Page 4 of Daddy's Little Treat

Fuck, I love her. This isn’t easy for her to do. It’s not easy for a lot of people to do.

“I’m proud of you, Little Girl.” I hear her quiet, contented purr through the phone. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll be there before you know it.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, Wolfie. I’d hate for this little red dress to go to waste," she teases in a sultry tone, one that makes my cock twitch in my pants. “Better come find me.”

Before I can respond, she ends the call, and my determination to get shit done is suddenly heightened. The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I get to my Little Girl. She needs to see how big and bad this wolf can be when he’s hunting his prey.

3

KELSEY

My tits are gonna fall outta this dress. What was he thinking when he picked it out?

That’s a rhetorical question because I know exactly what Logan was thinking, or at least what he was thinkingwith. But I can’t be mad at him. I’m thankful I have a man who loves me fiercely and always thinks I’m beautiful—no matter what I’m wearing.

Yet, despite the way that I reassured him on the phone that everything was fine, I’m still filled with nerves as I park my car for the valet in front of the stunning home where the party is taking place. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. And festive. If all the cars I saw parked along the drive and down the street are anything to go by, I’d say the event is in full swing. But I push away the thoughts of how many people are inside—strangers just waiting to judge me—and focus on catching up with Chloe and Matt, who I’m hoping are already here.

Batmanopens my door, and I exit the vehicle, smoothing my hands over my dress. He smiles appreciatively as his gaze rakes over my body, but I cast my eyes downward, letting him know I’m not interested.

Better watch it, Batman. The Big Bad Wolf doesn’t share his toys.

I mindlessly tug at the hem of the low-cut dress in a fruitless attempt to lengthen it past my upper thighs. I rarely wear anything short, but I’m trusting Logan wouldn’t select something he didn’t think would look good on me. My toned calves are accentuated by strappy black heels as they clack against the pavement on my way to the front entrance. And there’s a slight breeze circling my feet where my red cloak barely kisses the ground. I run my fingers along the fur trim of my hood, focusing on the surprisingly smooth, soft texture. As I remove the covering from my head, I’m pleased by how the caramel highlights of my dark curls gleam under the porch lights.

Yes, this is a revealing costume and not one I would’ve chosen for myself. But I feel confident and sexy, just as Logan knew I would. I never should have doubted that Daddy would take care of me. He always knows what I need, even before I know I need it.

With my shoulders pulled back and a lift of my chin, I continue up the stairs of the elegant mansion. The music can be heard from the main road, but I don’t let it deter me as I cross the covered porch leading to the front door. A sign directs guests to let themselves in, which is understandable since no one could hear a doorbell with the “Monster Mash” blasting through the home.

As my thumb presses the release of the handle, my heart leaps into my throat when an oversized black spider descends from the ceiling, heading straight for my face. I shriek and duck, then laugh at myself when I realize it’s fake. Glancing around, I notice only good-natured smiles, likely from others who fell for the same gag. My cheeks flame, and I’m grateful my golden-brown skin hides my embarrassment.

The host has gone all out decorating the double staircases and extravagant chandelier of the two-story foyer. Fake cobwebs are draped everywhere, and the largest bowl of candy I’ve ever seen rests on a marble-top table in the middle of the room. And those aren’t the fun-sized treats either. No, these are full candy bars, a trick-or-treater’s dream come true.

Struggling to resist my favorite, I reach for a Mr. Goodbar. But I stop myself when I spot a slender brunette in a skintight catsuit, complete with a tail and pointy ears. Her sleek look appears effortless, with a grace and sex appeal I could never achieve. I turn away from the huge crystal bowl, deciding against the chocolate, until I hear Logan’s voice echoing in my mind, and I stop midstep.

He’d chastise me for being so critical and comparing myself to another woman, any woman for that matter. Daddy frequently reminds me that no one is allowed to bad-mouth his Little Girl, and that includes me too. The image of his gorgeous face with a flare of contempt in his eyes makes me smile, considering it comes from good intentions and his unconditional love. I grab the candy bar and shove it in my clutch for later because Logan would want me to enjoy the treat.Iwant to enjoy the treat. So I will.

And anyone who wants to judge me for it can kiss my fluffy ass.

Ahead and to the right, costumed guests mill around a decorated archway. I saunter toward them, my mouth falling open when I gaze at the ballroom on the other side. This place is more impressive than I first realized. And the music heard from outside is coming from a live band playing on a stage at the back of the room. There are Hollywood-worthy props decorating the space and life-size figures of villains from popular scary movies, including Chucky, Michael Myers, and Freddy Krueger. I’m staring at an eerily realistic Jason Voorhees mannequin when I sense someone behind me. Turning, I findWilly Wonkasmiling warmly at me, so I return his gesture.

“You must be Kelsey.” His gentle, brown eyes and rich, baritone voice are inviting, melting away some of my initial tension.

I grin at him. “How’d you know?”

He extends a gloved hand for me to shake. “Logan asked me to take special care of Little Red Riding Hood. I’m Mr. Tibideaux.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for inviting me into your lovely home.”

“The pleasure is all mine, dear.” Logan told me Mr. Tibideaux is in his late-sixties, but he’s a kid at heart and loves to have fun. His costume and this party attest to that. “I enjoy sharing my favorite holidays with people, and the more friends I have to share them with, the better.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Tibideaux. I mean,Mr. Wonka.”

He’s winking at me when someone calls out his name, and he turns toward the speaker. He assures me we’ll catch up later and encourages me to enjoy one of the numerous buffets located throughout the home.

I agree. Food sounds like a great idea, but a stop at the bar would tamp down the uneasiness threatening to rise back up. I don’t drink often, so I’m unsure of what to order, and the young woman behind the coffin-shaped bar notices my hesitation.

“Would you like to try a spooky cocktail? Tell me what you like. Strong? Sour? Sweet?”

“Definitely sweet, please.”

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