Page 10 of Babygirl for Christmas

My cheeks heat with a blush, and I feel absolutely mortified that my naughty fantasies are where my mind wandered off to. I search around for something else to tell him because I am absolutely not admitting to thinking about Nick as my daddy and me as his babygirl…

Jesus, Cherry, what is wrong with you?!

My eyes land on the bare Christmas tree save for the turtle dove ornament. “I was just thinking about the tree and how I should maybe decorate it or something,” I lie, wincing because I hate not being truthful. Definitely need that spanking. Crap. I need to stop thinking about that. Nick is just being nice. He can’t really be interested despite his words.

He gives me a suspicious look but doesn’t call me on my blatant lie. Which just makes me feel guiltier than I already do.

“We could decorate it,” he offers.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he says with a sexy smile.

Happiness bubble up from somewhere deep inside, and I realize for the first time that the real reason I didn’t want to decorate is that doing it alone feels wrong. Grandma and I always did it together. Even when I lived in the city, I came home every year to decorate and keep our traditions alive and well.

Strong hands cup my cheeks. “What’s wrong, babygirl?” Nick asks, giving me a worried look as he wipes tears from my cheeks.

I blink them away, not even realizing I was crying. “Nothing… everything is perfect. I don’t know why I’m crying.” I roll my eyes at myself. “I guess I’m just emotional. It’s been a long time since someone has-” I can’t seem to find the words, but Nick looks at me with understanding and pulls me against his chest in a reassuring hug.

“I understand. Sometimes we just need someone to see us. To reach out to us in the dark and shine down the light,” he says, verbalizing the exact thing I was struggling with saying.

“Thank you for being here, Nick. I didn’t realize how alone I was until you came to fix my heater. I mean, I have co-workers I see every day, but that’s not the same as having a friend…”

The look in his eyes tells me he wants to be much more than friends, but he doesn’t say anything—I wish he would. I know it’s moving fast, but that old crush has come back with a fierceness and has turned into so much more.

Nick and I go to the basement and find the tree decorations. I carry one of the four boxes because he grumbles that it’s his job to haul heavy things. I put up a token protest but secretly love how he’s doing all these little things to take care of me.

While he’s carrying the last two boxes up from the basement, I decide to get started on the lights. I take the turtle doves off the tree and gently set them on the mantle. Unable to find the stepladder, I grab one of the kitchen chairs and stand on it, starting to weave the twinkle lights through the branches.

“What the hell are you doing, young lady?” Nick scolds from behind me.

He startles me so bad I jump and teeter on the chair I’m perched on. Just before I tumble off the chair, he’s there, catching me in his strong arms with a look of both fury and worry on his face.

“I should spank your ass for that,” he growls. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

A little thrill at the threat of a spanking rolls over me, but then indignation takes it’s place quickly. “You’re the one who scared me! I was perfectly fine until you yelled.”

“Watch your tone, little girl.”

That’s the third pet name he’s used—babygirl, young lady, little girl… all of them have my heart thudding in my chest like a bass drum. Could he be a daddy? It feels like maybe he might be. Or am I just seeing things that aren’t there?

“Or what?” I challenge.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Or I’ll spank your petulant little ass.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I say breathlessly.

He pushes me out, turning me so that I’m facing away from him. His hand cracks down on my jean covered ass, and I squeal. It isn’t that it hurts; it’s the shock that he actually followed through with his threat.

“You can’t do that!” I screech as he spanks me again. “You’re not my daddy, and I’m not a child,” I argue, even though that’s not what I want to do at all. I feel like I need to though.

“Maybe I should be.”

I turn around and catch the shocked look on his face before he shutters it. My pussy clenches wetly, and my mind instantly rolls through all of the fantasies I’ve had since that first book I found by accident with a daddy dom.

“What do you mean?” I ask, panting.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, babygirl. Don’t you?”

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