“So, you’ll be back Friday?” I finally asked, unsure why the thought of him leaving for just a few days saddened me. I should be focusing on the fact that it would allow the perfect opportunity to escape. I shouldn’t be thinking about the fact that his overwhelming presence wouldn’t be surrounding me and making me feel whole for the first time in my entire life.
I faked a smile. His brow furrowed slightly, but it passed so quickly that it felt like I’d imagined the whole thing.
“Yes. I’ll be back Friday afternoon and I’ll take you to dinner at my favorite restaurant in town.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I lied, painting on a happy face.
“Yeah. Me too,” he replied softly.
He put the dishes in the sink and started washing them himself.
“I didn’t think a man like you washed dishes,” I teased.
He glanced back at me with a grin.
“I do a lot of things that may surprise you,” he said.
Like spank naughty little girls with your belt after you make them call you Daddy.
I shivered, trying so hard to ignore the wetness that had soaked through the cotton fabric of my panties. He must have seen because he finished washing and drying the dishes and turned back to me. I drained the rest of my mimosa in one large gulp, trying to quell my sudden raging anxiety even though it did anything but.
“Stand up, little girl,” he commanded, and I narrowed my eyes in confusion.
He rounded the end of the island slowly, keeping his eyes on me. He wore the same expression that he’d had when he demanded my obedience in the shower and almost instinctually, I climbed out of my chair. When he came up behind me, his fingers grazed along my shoulder and slowly curled around my throat. I closed my eyes, reveling in the way those fingers felt against my skin and hating it all the same.
His other hand curved around my waist.
“Daddy expects his little girl to behave while he’s gone,” he whispered in my ear and a shudder raced down my spine. With his chest pressed against my back, I knew that he could feel it too. His lounge pants did nothing to conceal the erection hidden within them and I could feel every long inch of it against my backside. My mouth went dry, and I clamped my lips together in an effort to contain my sudden need to beg him to bend me over the counter, rip down my jeans, and fuck me so hard that I would feel it until he returned from his trip.
“When Daddy’s away, little girls will play,” I teased and his hand dipped lower to cup my pussy. He patted me there several times with the flats of his fingers and I was unsure if he intended to tease me or warn me of what was to come.
I remembered how his palm had felt against my wet folds and I swallowed anxiously when I imagined those fingers would feel like if he decided to truly punish me there.
My pussy clenched down hard. He unbuttoned my jeans and slid the zipper down. Casually, his fingertips dipped beneath the line of my panties and I sucked in a breath as his rough skin brushed against mine. He captured my clit between two fingers, and I gasped audibly as a jolt of electric pleasure coursed through me.
I tried to push away, although his arms were enough to keep me captive against his large form.
“If you touch this little pussy while I’m away, naughty girl, I’ll have to spank it bright red,” he warned, and my clit pulsed right underneath his fingers.
What was wrong with me? Why were his threats turning me on?
“I’m used to doing what I want, when I want,” I scoffed, and he pinched my clit hard. I keened out loud at the unexpected blossom of pain in between my thighs.
He pushed my jeans roughly down my hips, leaving my panties in place. Those didn’t last long though.
Q
uickly and efficiently, he tore my underwear down and bent me over the island with his fingers still lightly pinching my clit. His other hand descended down the cleft of my cheeks, catching me by surprise as his knuckle just grazed over my bottom hole before he slid a single finger inside my pussy.
I gasped. I was embarrassed because the sound was something between a cry and a moan.
“Maybe I should schedule for a little more time on Friday before dinner. Perhaps you’re going to need to spend it over Daddy’s knee,” he scolded as he circled my clit firmly. I struggled against him and he pinned me harder against the island as a result.
“No!” I exclaimed.
“You’re protesting an awful lot for a little girl with a pussy this wet at just the mention of being punished by Daddy’s hand,” he mused, and my mouth opened and closed without a single smart-assed retort.
He slid a second finger into my pussy, and I groaned, unable to keep quiet. When his fingers started to flutter deep inside me at the same time that his other hand worried my clit, I couldn’t stop myself from crying out loud with pleasure. With his expert fingers, it didn’t take long for me to feel as though I was approaching the edge of a reluctant release.