Page 14 of Chaining Daisy
Our gazes clash and warmth zings down my belly but it’s not just sexual. I absolutely adore teasing my Daisy this way. She’s always so snappy and unpredictable.
“Fish.”
Her answer surprises me so much that a laugh bursts out. Clever little thing
She capitalizes on her win, expanding on her answer for both of our amusement. “You know, when you catch those tiny little wiggly things and then pretend they’re monsters?” Her fingers pinch together and expand as wide as her little hands can stretch. A naughty playfulness lights her up and I wish I could capture it and bottle it, so I could drink in that expression over and over again. “You make tiny little tadpoles into foot-long piranhas!”
“Piranhas! I don’t think piranhas are a foot long!”
“Exactly!” She shoves playfully at me.
“But what if they are? What if you’re wrong?” I pause and let my face become exaggeratedly serious. “It’s time for a Google off!”
Daisy play-gasps, clapping her hands to her cheeks, pretending to be scared, though her mouth quickly curves up in delight.
Google off is a game we like to play where we test one another’s statements. The rules are this—we have to name the stakes. Then we google the answer to our debated issue. The first result is accepted as our absolute truth. The loser has to suffer the consequences.
Daisy closes her takeout container and sets it behind her before crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. In a tone that would rival any cowboy in a Western shoot-out movie, she says, “Name your terms.”
“If piranhas are over a foot long then I get…a foot massage.” I laugh at my own cleverness but honestly, my pick is no surprise. It’s my favorite consequence, though there are a few fantasy consequences that flit through my mind. My favorite one is Daisy on her knees, her hair gathered up into a ponytail by one of my hands as her plush lips fall open and her warm, wet mouth engulfs the head of my cock.
“Ugh, that was such a bad dad joke. And I knew you’d pick that!” She gives my arm a weak, playful slap accompanied by a long-suffering expression.
“Ouch! Assault!” I rub at my arm.
She laughs. “You poor baby! Here.” She leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my arm, one I can hardly feel through my shirt, but it nonetheless sends sparks writhing through me. I stop breathing as she sits back up.
I notice her pupils are blown out and her breathing is shallow. Could it mean what I want it to mean? I study every inch of her face, wondering, as she opens her mouth and names her terms. “I want a back massage. A real one. Not two seconds on my shoulders and done.”
Fucking hell. I hope I lose. May the Google gods be against me.
There is nothing I want more on this Earth than to slide my fingers over every inch of her exposed skin, unless it was to slide my tongue over it instead. Maybe I could convince her that I need to take her shirt off to massage her properly. I picture sliding my fingers underneath her bra straps, pretending they get in the way too, gently moving them aside.
She’s never picked this consequence before. God … today is changing everything. And I’m here for it.
The way her gaze is flickering across mine, the way I realize I can see the shape of her nipples growing taut, pressing up underneath her shirt … there is no bra to shove aside. She’s definitely not wearing one. My fantasy morphs so that she’s sprawled on the gray carpet in front of the fireplace shirtless, the sides of her small breasts visible as I rub up and down her spine, straddling her. Maybe my fingers will slip, caressing the edges of those soft globes. Maybe I can make it feel so good she ends up moaning.
I end up squeezing her phone harder than I intend—I’m so fucking turned on.
This might be so much easier than I ever imagined. But in the year and a half or so that I’ve known her, I’ve imagined so many things. The kink that popped up from the moment I met her has only grown. I love this girl … but I also want to do very bad things to her.
Is that the sort of thing she can accept?
Or will I scare her off?
The temptress smile and sultry eyes she’s giving me makes the darkness in me rise, filling my chest and my mind like smoke. It takes everything I have not to just grab her and shove her back on the couch so I can teach her what Daddy likes, the way I’ve imagined doing hundreds of times.
No.
Every last bit of my self-control wrestles down that salivating monster, the beast panting inside me. I can’t scare her like that. I’ll lose her.
Unaware of the battle inside of me, of the danger she’s in, Daisy morphs out of sexual goddess mode and motorboats her lips the way she always does when she’s impatient. She adds a finger snap as she commands, “Hurry! Let’s see!” She leans forward, reaching for her phone, but I hold it aside, out of her grip, making her stretch until she’s so damn close to falling over in my lap.
One little push and she’d be splayed across my legs.
God.
I turn away slightly. “I’ve got it.” I swipe and unlock her phone, ignoring her startled exclamation about the fact that I know her password. I don’t just know this password. I know her computer password. I know her social media passwords.
