Page 120 of Their Perfect Daddy

“Mind out of the gutter. Get into position.”

Shaking off the lust is hard. All I want is to sink into the pleasure his voice and words bring. I want to strip bare and explore all I can with him and our princess.

Before I know it, I’m draped over his knee. He tugs my sweats and underwear until I’m bare. The cool air in the room feels odd against my overheated skin. It hadn’t been long since I showered, and there's still a lingering heat from it.

Why am I just as aroused as I am terrified?

“Pick a word, Brat. Something you’ll remember to say if you’re overwhelmed and want to stop.”

“What about stop?” The words comes out as a taunt. It’s strange to be this bold with my words despite the position I’m in.

I never claimed to be a genius.

Daddy chuckles, his hand gripping my hip tight to keep me still. “Stop isn’t going to work in this scenario. You need to be able to let me know you truly want me to pull back. People can sometimes say stop when they really want more instead.”

“Acrobat,” I tell him quickly.

He hums. “Why acrobat?”

“It’s the name of my favorite book.” The words are much softer than before. It’s strange to admit this type of stuff to them. We’ve been living together for a while now, none of us ready to break apart this family we’ve built. Yet telling them I read romance books feels somehow more intimate.

Daddy doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he adjusts me until I’m just how he wants me. Then he addresses our princess.

“I want you to take his hand. He’s going to feel overwhelmed and need your support. Don’t do anything more. No kisses or petting. Understand, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His hand slips inside mine. I look over to see him smiling softly at me.

“Princess…” My words cut off. I’m not sure what I want to say to him. Maybe it’s to reassure him this is fine. Maybe it’s to ask him to help me talk my way out of it. I don’t know, and I likely never will because in the next moment, I feel the sting of palm against flesh and my thoughts evaporate.

I suck in a breath as I prepare for the next one. When Daddy’s hand trails over the spot he just hit, I’m not sure how to react. Part of me wants to trust the gentleness of it, while the rest of me understands he’s nowhere close to done.

One spanking doth not conclude a punishment — or whatever Shakespeare would say.

“Time for you to count, Brat. We’re going for twenty. Ten on each side. If you’re good, we’ll stop there. If not, I can keep going.”

Nodding, I squeeze our princess’s hand for reassurance. I’m met with a gentle hum right before another smack lands against me. This one is on the opposite side. It stings enough I almost forget to speak.

“Two,” I force out.

“Two?” Daddy repeats. “What happened to one?”

I turn my head to look at him. “You already did one.”

“No, Brat. That was merely to gauge what you could take. We start from one when counting. Let’s try again.”

Grumbling at the news I’ve somehow had two that won’t count, I turn my face down to the comforter. This time, I’m ready when it comes.

“One!”

Smack.

“Two!”

Smack.

This continues until we reach the end. I’m a mess of tears, snot, and arousal by then. And confused. I’m so fucking confused.

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