Page 27 of Her Stepbrother Master
“Brad?” she began tentatively.
“Yes, mouse?”
“I’d like to make a nice dinner tonight, but I’ve already spent the allowance my father gave me for the semester. I didn’t have to buy groceries living at the dorm, so it went rather fast now that I’m buying my own food.”
Brad moved to reach for his wallet in his back pocket, then seemed to reconsider. Scooting his chair back, he said, “Come sit on Daddy’s lap and ask him sweetly.”
Her heart picked up speed. Dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin, she stood and walked over to him. She straddled his lap and pressed her warm core right against the bulge in his trousers, rocking her pelvis forward and back. She twined her arms behind his neck and leaned forward to speak in his ear. “Daddy,” she said in her best baby-girl voice, “May I please have some spending money?”
The surge of his cock against his trousers was the only confirmation she needed. She may not understand the meaning behind Brad’s games, but she did know how to play. In fact, it seemed she’d been born for nothing other than to be Brad’s plaything.
He gripped her bottom and pulled her even closer, closing his eyes for a moment, as if to savor the feeling. For the first time, she felt as if she were in charge. Some of Brad’s control had slipped as he showcased his desire for her. Why had he still not taken her, then?
“If you keep this up, little girl, I’ll be broke in no time.”
She nibbled on his ear. “I just need a widdle bit of money, Daddy,” she said, still using a baby voice.
His fingers squeezed her bottom tighter. “Reach into Daddy’s back pocket for his wallet.” His voice sounded thick.
She stretched her arm, seeking the billfold, but feeling the muscular lines of his buttocks as she did. She pulled it out and sat back, a satisfied smirk on her face as she played the part of the greedy child. Opening the wallet, she batted her lashes at him. “How much may I have, Daddy?”
“All of it,” he said, lids low. “You can have all you need.”
She beamed at him, but plucked out a twenty dollar bill, leaving at least another fifteen for him. “This should be enough.” She folded it and tucked it inside her bra, loving the way his eyes followed the movement hungrily.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You’d better go to work, Daddy, or you’ll be late.”
He started, as if he’d forgotten all about work. Helping her off his lap, he stood and picked up his lunchbox. “I’ll see you tonight, little girl. Be good.”
“I will, Daddy.” She beamed her most innocent smile.
When he left, she cleaned up the dishes and apartment, her spirit dancing a little jig. Playing house with Brad was more fun than she’d ever imagined.
Brad opened the door to the apartment and stopped dead in his tracks. LuAnn looked like the perfect little housewife, in a strapless red and white polka dot dress, with a bold red scarf at her neck. She’d tied a red satin ribbon around her head to hold the hair out of her face.
She turned to him with a bright smile, but when he just stood there, her expression dimmed. She smoothed the front of her dress. “Do I… Well, I?—”
Finally, he made his lips move. “You look beautiful.”
Her shoulders relaxed and the smile returned.
“And it smells delicious. What are you cooking?”
“Roast chicken, potatoes and carrots, and I made a homemade apple pie,” she said, beaming. “I also washed and ironed all your clothes and cleaned the apartment.”
He frowned. “Did you study at all today?”
She put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot, in the childish way he found so appealing. Mainly because he liked having a reason to spank her naughty little bottom. He adored her innate childishness.
“Can’t you just say thank you, LuAnn?”
He grinned and sauntered closer to her. “Thank you, LuAnn,” he said, slipping his hands around her waist and letting them wander to her delectable buttocks. He squeezed and kneaded her cheeks. “Still sore?” he asked, remembering how beautiful she looked during her spanking the night before.
She hesitated, as if not sure how to answer.
He touched her nose. “The truth, mouse.”
She grinned. “Not really. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like the dickens at the time.” She gave another foot stomp.
