Page 90 of More, Daddy
“Maybe, yeah. And maybe I just like the idea of being taken care of, being disciplined, having someone look out for me—I don’t know. But do I have to know? Can’t I just like slipping into a temporary world where things are hot and forbidden, secretive and dirty? Can’t we just have fun without needing it to mean anything?”
He blinks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but then, as westand in heated silence a moment longer, I start to understand his expression.
“That’s what I tried to tell my wife.” His nostrils flare as a bead of sweat traverses his temple. “Ex-wife.”
I shake my head. “See? It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you. We’re meant for each other, West, you and me. I wasn’t lying when I said it was all real.”
Suddenly my throat is in his grip, and his hat is knocked off my head. He opens his mouth, but it takes him a moment to hand down a command.
“You’d do anything for me? For your daddy?”
Goosebumps break out along my arms and belly, and between my legs, the needy, wet heat intensifies. I nod my head.
“Go take a fucking shower. Daddy doesn’t want to touch his babygirl after she’s been shamelessly rubbing herself on some fuckingnobodyall day.” He glowers at me as his fingers press into my pulse. “You’remyfucking slut, and no one else’s, and it seems you need to remember that.”
I nod my head.
“Open your mouth.”
I open my mouth, and he fills it with a hot, thick wad of his spit.
I nearly come as I swallow it.
“Get on your knees and crawl to your shower like the dirty whore you are. When you come out, be ready to make Daddy feel good. You owe him.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Briar’s wordsremind me of me. Younger me, from the past. The one who tried to explain to his loving wife that his sexual needs were not rooted in some deep trauma or some fucked up desire to be an incestuous monster. Merely, what I wanted and needed in the bedroom was just something hot and forbidden, something that made me come so hard, but that fulfilled me in ways that left me truly sated afterward. I tried explaining that sex is good, but leaning into a forbidden dynamic is insanely hot.
She just didn’t understand. The problem wasn’t that Pris didn’t understand. It was that she said she did. Shepromisedshe did. And she also promised to research it, to try it, to give it a go, for me, and for our marriage.
Briar is younger than I envisioned my partner being, but in many ways, she is more grown than some of my peers. She’s been forced to take care of herself, to pay her own way and forge her own path–and I can’t deny that I respect how well she’s done.
For the first time since discovering whoDaddysGirlreally is, while standing in the hot, rundown home belonging to Briar’s father, I actually considerbeingwith Briar.
I’ve been fighting it. Denying it, denying her and what we have.
The shock of discovering thatDaddysGirlwasn’t Cadence, and that whoever it was had made me love her under the guise of a lie—those things had me temporarily blinded. And even now, when I think about being lied to by a woman I care about, I’m consumed with anger.
But in equal measure, I find myself wanting to be with Briar. Despite how much I’m telling her it’s never going to happen.
What if it did happen?
What if I put all of my reasons and excuses aside and simply allowed myself to be happy?
The shower kicks on, and I can’t help the growl that escapes me when I peer down the hall and notice she left the bathroom dooropen. Of course she did. Starved for Daddy’s attention.
With a hunt of specific nature in mind, I stalk down the hall, opening the first door on the left. It’s the wrong one. This is her father’s room. What kind of father, might I add, leaves his daughter home to fend for herself all the time? Without AC? Without a car? I don’t care if nineteen is an adult. I don’t care if she’s employed full time. Briar told me she’s beentaking care of him for years—and by the looks of this dilapidated house, I believe her.
I glance around the room, taking in the unmade bed and the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, next to the hamper. There’s a painting of a pair of cowboy boots on the wall, framed in chipped, white wood. Aside from the bed and hamper, there’s a dresser and a closet, and a door that leads to an en suite bathroom. I close the door and try the next, finding a linen closet instead.
Next door opens into a bedroom, and my heart swells at the sight. In fact, I’m so stunned by the sight of Briar’s room, that I stand in the doorway just… absorbing it all.
Absorbing her in a way I never have.
A pink canopy daybed, the comforter frilly pink, the bedskirt matching. On top of the mattress, there are pillows in the shape of hearts, fuzzy, in ombres of pink and red, and regular pillows, covered in lace pillowcases. Beneath the bed is a pink rug, and on the walls are posters for beauty products, like lipsticks and perfumes, I even spot a poster for a Barbie camper van, and my lips curve into a smirk. A vase of faux flowers sits on the table next to her bed, and I stand there, heart racing, mind whirring.
