Page 28 of Rayna's Daddy

“Thank you.” She smirked.

I took my drink back over to the coffee table and sat it down.

Rayna approached with a glass of ice and a can of ginger ale. Her eyes grew wide, and a silly grin spread across her face.

“It smells amazing.” Rayna lowered herself to the ground between the couch and the coffee table and tucked a napkin into the collar of her shirt. Her eyes scanned the tray before settling on the pile of greasy, hot fries. She grabbed one and dipped it in the ranch dressing and the ketchup before putting it in her mouth. “Mmh. Yummy.” Her attention went to the burger next. It was bigger than her head. She gripped it with both hands, dipped it in ranch, leaned in with elbows out, mouth wide open, and took a bite. Ranch dressing dribbled down her chin.

“Oh, my god.” Her groans were orgasmic.

I chuckled.

“What so funny?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone enjoy a burger quite so much.” I stole one of her French fries and moved over to the couch.

“You want to know the secret?” Rayna motioned for me to lean in. “It’s the ranch dressing. Good ranch dressing could make an old leather shoe taste good.” Her fingers reached for a fry, dipped it in the ranch, and brought to my mouth. I took a bite, staring into her eyes. They grew wide and her cheek flushed pink. My little girl was turned on. She popped the other end in her mouth and grinned.

“Good right?”

“Yep.” I licked my lips.

The blush spread from her chest down her neck and to her chest. I resisted the urge to peak under the napkin to see how far it went. She quickly turned her attention back to her food, alternating between bites of burger, sweet potato fries and skinny fried. All drenched in copious amounts of ranch dressing.

I feared what would happen if she ran out.

“Aren’t you hungry?” She motioned toward my untouched dinner. My typical grilled chicken and vegetables had no appeal. Watcher her eat was a lot more nourishing to my soul.

“I’ll get to it.”

“I’m making a spectacle of myself.” Rayna wiped her mouth with the napkin and sat it on her lap. She frowned and looked away.

“Who told you that?”

“What?”

“That you’re making a spectacle of yourself.” I shift back and faced her.

“My grandmother.” The smile returned. “She used to always say that to me, and I thought it was a compliment until I actually looked up the word.”

“Maybe she did, mean it as a compliment. Some people like spectacles.” I sipped my drink.

“Do you like spectacles?” She lowered her head and peered up at me with those bright brown eyes. Anticipating my answer like the little she was trying to pretend not to be.

“I think I do.” I pulled her ponytail. She pushed my hand away, going back to eating her fries. She was doing it to avoid talking, I suspect. I wasn’t going to let her off the hook. She had asked the question; it was time for me to answer.

“You asked me earlier why I speak to you the way I do?”

She nodded, but didn’t look at me.

“I guess because you make me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.” I reached out my hand. “Come sit up here next to me.”

She wiped her hands on the napkin again, retrieved her legs from beneath the table, and sat up on the couch.

“You bring out a side of me I thought I had buried forever.”

“What side is that?” She whispered.

“My nurturing side.” I lifted her chin. She blinked. “My Daddy Dom side.”

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