I excused myself by telling the woman behind that counter that it was for my daughter before she’d even asked, and all I got in response was a blank stare. It would seem that night-shift employees are even more dead inside than the day shift. I wanted to make it clear to her that I wasn’t buying it for my benefit, yet somehow that didn’t come across. The truth is, that lie was for me.
My chest thumps as I hear Mackenzie’s door open and close, and my heart races as I imagine her opening it. I wonder as I sit back down at the breakfast table whether she’s trying it on, picturing her slipping the tight little two-piece slowly up her long legs and over her tight thighs until it presses against her-
‘Enough,’ I breathe, feeling dizzy as my dick strains inside my pants. I slam the sides of my head and then grip the edge of the table hard as I calm myself down, closing my eyes and focusing.
It’s just a simple gift.
No more skinny dipping. No more wet t-shirt competitions. No more soaking panties.
I lick my lips and swallow, then I turn around. I need to eat something. I haven’t eaten in hours, and I’ve been up all night. The fridge is fully stocked and for a moment I step back and admire it all.
Mackenzie is good.
She’s efficient, on time when it matters, useful and effective. The only problem is that damn brat mouth of hers.
I sigh.
There needs to be a consequence for last night, as well as a reward.
If I give her a prize for that kind of insolence, she’ll push it further and further, and now I find myself in a position where I don’t want her to push it so far that I have to tell her to leave… because I don’t want her to go.
‘Daddy,’ shouts Harpy, and I turn around too late as she rams into my legs and wraps herself around me like a vice.
‘Hey baby,’ I say, leaning down and scooping her up, but she clings on like a limpet and I have to pry her fingers free as I laugh.
‘Morning Mr Ledger,’ says Mackenzie, and for a second I go rigid, turning to find her beaming smile as she squeezes past us and opens the fridge door, pulling out a quart of milk before priming the machine. ‘Coffee?’
‘Sure,’ I say, looking her up and down, her latest summer dress sending a breeze in my direction as she twirls back and forth.
‘Hoops for the Princess?’ she asks, a red sheen to her cheeks.
‘Hoops,’ shouts Harper.
I place my littlest girl down in her chair as she kicks her legs, and then I glance back toward Mackenzie as one shoulder of her dress drops down her arm, and there I see a glimpse of the strap of the bikini I bought her and I can’t help but grin.