She dropped her lip out. “Party pooper.”
He gave her a stern look, making certain to keep his smile from showing. If she saw his smile, she might realize how easy it would be for her to twist him around her little finger. And then he was totally fucked. There wasn’t much he would deny her, however he was determined that she would live a long life. So, he would guard her health and safety fiercely.
Something he was certain they would clash on.
He returned with two small bowls of ice cream and handed her one. It held a scoop of the cookie dough ice cream they’d brought with them.
“Where’s the rest of it?” she asked, poking at the ice cream.
“Like I said, ice cream is a treat. But if you don’t want it, I can take it back.” He made to reach for the bowl and she tugged it out of his reach.
“No, that’s okay. This is. . .fine. I guess.” With a clearly disgruntled look, she spooned up the ice cream, eating it slowly. And the way she licked that spoon. . .
Holy shit. Did she know what she was doing to him each time she took a long lingering lick? She had to, right?
He turned his gaze to the cartoon on the TV screen, trying to concentrate. H
e frowned. “Jeez, is this what kids watch nowadays? This is way too violent for you.” He started switching channels.
“Daddy! I was enjoying that.”
He looked over to see that she was almost finished with her ice cream and had some dripping down her chin. It was so at odds with her usually well put-together appearance that a wide grin appeared on his face.
“What? Is there something on me?” She swiped at her chin.
He licked his thumb and reached over to wipe her chin. “Nothing Daddy can’t fix for you, baby girl.”
Her breath hitched as his eyes caught hers. Something shifted between them. He was getting to her. Slowly. He already knew she wanted him, he just had to work past whatever barriers stood in their way to her giving herself to him fully.
“T-thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned back to the TV, before he was tempted to pull her onto his lap and claim that mouth. “I think we better find another cartoon for you. Surely, there is something more suitable for a little girl.”
“I liked the one we were watching.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “It will give you nightmares. They just don’t make good cartoons like they used to, like the Jetsons. That was a classic.”
She burst into laughter. “The Jetsons? Daddy, you’re showing your age.” Not that she hadn’t loved watching the Jetsons as a kid, but she wasn’t telling him that.
He gave her a mock-scowl. “Are you calling me old?”
“Of course not, Daddy. Why, you don’t look a day over fifty.”
He scowled. “I’m thirty-three, you little brat.”
He reached for her, pulling her over his lap, her stomach against his thighs.
“Daddy! What are you doing?”
“Teaching you not to disrespect your elders.”
She giggled. Damn, he loved the sound of her happiness.
He pulled her nightgown up. “You know, this no panties thing is very convenient. Makes it so much easier to turn you over my knee and spank your ass.”
“Daddy!”
“Little girl, you’re in big trouble for calling your daddy old. Disrespect is so common in little ones nowadays.”