In Debt to Daddy Page 9

  He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. He stares at me so long I’m sure he’s read the answer on my face. “You’re an infuriating pain in my ass. But you’ve got the sexiest pout, princess.”

  “No, I don’t,” I say putting extra pout into it. I don’t even mind that he called me princess. Hell if it isn’t growing on me a little. I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever really complimented me—and it’s the worst, most backhanded compliment ever—but it’s still warming me inside out. I’m gleaning intense satisfaction from the fact he may hate me but he’s attracted to me.

  “Yes, you do. And I’m going to enjoy watching you pout in the corner with your sore bottom sticking out.”

  I try to shove off his arms from around my hips. He just grabs my ass and pulls me into his hard body.

  “That’s enough fighting for one night, young lady. You knew you were going to be in trouble the second you called me. Yet, here we are. You still called. Out of everyone you could have called, you called me.”

  The starch is officially out of my britches. He’s right. I know he’s right. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

  “Well,” he starts, pulling me around to face him. “Are you going to take your punishment like a good girl, or am I going to have to tie you down?”

  From the challenging gleam in his eye, I’m pretty sure he likes the prospect of tying me down. I’m not completely unmoved by the idea. But, no. No. That would be worse, much worse. The fluttering of butterflies in my stomach I had on the entire ride here are back.

  That doesn’t stop me from shooting him a haughty look of my own and lifting my skirt as I bend over the end of the bed. If my legs tremble slightly, it’s because it’s chilly in here. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, “Do your worst,” but really, why tempt fate…

  Bravado. I’m all bravado.

  I squeak and give myself away when he reaches under my skirt and pulls my hot-pink, lacy panties down to mid-thigh. I peek back at him, and it’s a mistake. He is hugely imposing towering over me. My stomach drops down to somewhere in the vicinity of my curling toes.

  “I-I’m wearing a thong. Why are you pulling down my panties?” My voice is so breathy when I ask, I sound like I’m doing a bad impression of Marilyn Monroe.

  He raises a brow, and his mouth kicks up in a half grin, but he’s not looking at me, or at least not my face. I feel the place he’s staring at heat, and I move to close my legs, but he stops me with a hand. “Your panties are down so that Daddy can have a full view of your sweet pussy,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

  I’m not sure what’s more messed up, the fact that he refers to himself as Daddy or the fact that when he says it—every time he says it—new moisture floods my bits with tingles of awareness.

  Crouching behind me, he grabs my ankles and moves my feet even farther apart. “And your panties are going to stay around your thighs so you remember just how exposed you are to me.”

  I bite my lip and hide my face in the soft quilt under me. I can feel his breath at the back of my thighs and know his face is level with me, right there. He has to be able to see how humiliatingly wet I am right now.

  His hand cracks down on my ass, and I cry out more in surprise than pain, although I swear I can feel his handprint throbbing into form on my ass. The sensation is moving its way to my tiddly bits as he alternately smacks left to right, right to left, and it’s almost relaxing. I can’t believe I was so worked up over this. It’s only the third spanking he’s ever given me, but it’s the lightest by far, and I wonder if it’s because I’m not fighting it that it’s not so bad. As soon as he stops, I raise my head, feeling slightly confused. I choke on the words, “Is that it?” as I hear the unmistakable sound of a belt being unclasped.

  I whip around just in time to see his brown leather belt clear the last loop of his pants. Panic surges through me so fast, I’m lightheaded.

  “Oh no, wait!” I say, moving to stand.

  My belly hits the mattress and I bounce a little as his strong hand pushes me down and then holds me in place.

  “No waiting,” he says, a second before the crack of his belt sears across my ass and rings in my ears. It steals my breath, that first strike. The second strike has me shouting into the quilt. I’m dancing on my tiptoes, clutching the quilt for dear life. I’m a wimp. A total wimp. I thought I could take it, but I don’t know if I can.

  “Hold still for your punishment,” he says, grabbing my wrists. I wasn’t aware of reaching back.

  Tears sting my eyes as a startled cry leaves me when the belt strikes down over the same spot twice.

  “You were reckless,” he lectures. “A reckless, careless, selfish, selfish little girl tonight.” Every word is punctuated by the jolting strike of his belt.

  Tears roll down my face at his words, combined with the shock of each strike zinging through my body. It’s like every nerve ending from the top of my head to the tips of my toes is lit up. I’m swamped with sensation, but his words sting worse than the belt. They rip me open and make me feel like I’m bleeding.

  “Does your brother, the one recently beaten to a pulp—and yes, I’m not stupid, I know whatever the hell happened to him wasn’t an accident—does he know where you are? Where you were?” he asks as he brings the belt down again. “Do you know how much he cares? How much he worries about you? Do you even care, or were you too busy being a reckless, selfish brat?”

  “I care! I’m not selfish,” I cry over and over. “I’m not selfish, I’m not fucking selfish!” I don’t know why it matters, but I hate that he thinks that of me. I was reckless, but it was because I do care. I care so much I’m doing things that are tearing me apart inside, but I can’t explain that to him without telling him everything.

  Hank’s lifting me up and wrapping me in his arms before I realize the spanking is over. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he says into my hair as he drops a kiss on the top of my head. His hands are soothing circles in the middle of my back as I stand in his arms, my tears soaking the front of his T-shirt.

  Little by little, I come back to myself. The stinging welts on my rump have made way to heated waves, and I’ve never been as wet down there as I am right now. Like my clit is beating in time with my pulse, swollen, heavy, needy wet.

  I’m all longing and confusion when I blink up at Hank. It must show because his eyes spark with an answering flare of fire before he palms my face and swipes my tears with his thumbs. For a fleeting second his expression is so tender my breath catches, but then it’s gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it.

  His cock is a hard and hot brand against my belly. I rub my breasts against his chest like a cat in heat. I’m worked up and ready for some bed sports in a way I’ve never been before. I’ve never orgasmed during sex, at least not in any memorable kind of way, but right now, with Hank, I think it’s going to be different. For the first time in my life, I’m excited to find out.

  “No, ma’am,” he says, holding me back at arm’s length. “Naughty girls don’t get rewards after punishments.”

  I scowl up at his patronizing face because, really, I’m done with this bullshit. I took my spanking like a good-freaking girl, dammit. And his thing is as hard as a baseball bat. What kind of man denies himself when a horny woman throws herself at him? And hell in a handbasket, I’m so damn horny I could spit.

  “Ahh, there’s that pout I love.”

  I tense my lips at his words, trying to wipe the pout off my face. Screw him.

  He just chuckles and drags me over to the corner of the room. His body is flush behind mine, pressing into me, as he places my hands up on the wall. His large callused hands cover mine before trailing up my arms and down my side till they reach my waist. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me back on his hard cock.

  The rough denim of his jeans scrapes my tender ass, but I’m still engulfed with warmth at the move. My nipples are pebbled under my shirt, and I wish he’d reach around and put his hands on me where I need
him most.

  His mouth is at my throat, his beard tickling in the most delicious way. From the tender spot where my shoulder meets my neck, he kisses and licks a path to my ear. My head falls back on his shoulder as he nips my earlobe.

  For a man set on not having sex with me, he’s doing a poor job of it. I’m melting all over again.

  “It’s corner time, princess,” he says at my ear. Princess comes out so grating, my entire body stiffens. I don’t register the words “corner time” until his body moves away from mine.

  “Excuse me, what?” I glance back.

  “Palms to the wall.”

  The authoritative bite in his voice has me automatically doing his bidding. I stamp my foot, frustrated with my own weakness.

  “Tantrums during corner time will only earn you another spanking, young lady.”

  “Fuck you.” The words are out of my foolish mouth before I can recall them.

  The clap of his hand striking my poor posterior is heard before I feel it. But lord, do I feel it. I’m up on my tiptoes for his next two swats to my throbbing rump; my breath catches on a soundless cry.

  Tentatively, I settle back down on my heels, panting through the awakened burning throb of my abused butt. The heat spreads through me in what is becoming an alarmingly familiar pattern.

  I rest my forehead on the cool wall between my hands, and groan. Although I’m tired, my body is wide awake and screaming for attention, but the man it wants attention from is a little insane. Maybe I’m insane, too, because when I turn my head and look at him from under my lashes, the words that trip off my tongue shock the air out of the room.

  “I don’t want to play this game anymore, Daddy. Please, I need you.”

  Desperate times, call for desperate measures. With a trembling hand, I reach behind me and wrap my fingers around the outline of the hardest cock I’ve ever felt. It jumps in my hand, and his eyes glaze over…I have him.

  Or at least I thought I had him.

  He grabs my wrist and puts it back on the wall. “I guess someone’s ready to play big-girl games, now, huh?” he growls at my ear. “That’s okay, baby girl. Daddy knows how to put big girls in their place, too. Don’t you dare move a muscle.”

  With that, he steps back and…leaves the effing room. The click of the door has me glancing around, and he’s gone. What the hell? I wait a second, and I don’t hear anything.

  Screw this, and screw him. I’ve never been so desperate to get off in my life, and I’ve been left hanging quite a few times. I know how to handle business all by myself.

  Reaching down, I touch my finger tip to my swollen clit, and my eyes roll back.

  Oh, yesss.

  11

  HANK

  So yeah, I like daddy dirty talk. A lot. It’s my thing.

  When I was a kid, I loved playing house. The neighbor girl across the hall would come over, or I’d go over to her place while our moms were doing lord knows what, and we’d play. She’d want to play school, and store, or doctor, but not me. I’d always turn it back into house. And I was always man of the house.

  I was obsessed with dads and pretending I was man of the house. It doesn’t take a clinical psychologist to figure out why. My mom, well, she was a whore, a bona fide sell-herself-for-money prostitute, and I didn’t have a dad until I was sixteen and my mom had been dead and gone for two years.

  I wasn’t ever looking for a father figure as much as I wanted to be the father figure.

  In my teens my “man of the house” fascination just kind of got interwoven in all the dirty fantasies my hormonal mind was cooking up. By the time I reached adulthood, I guess you could say I still liked to play house, just a much dirtier version.

  Daddy dirty talk in the bedroom became a regular thing for me by my early twenties. Spanking, too. Nothing gets me hotter. Some may say I like the Daddy/lg BDSM dynamic. Other may just say I’m a kinky, controlling bastard. Hell, I’ve been called a sick fuck—not all women are turned on by it. But, lucky for me, more often than not, it turns them the hell on.

  The thing is, I’ve never really taken it outside of play. I’ve just never been one to take it that far, or go for that twenty-four/seven D/s type dynamic that involves things like discipline. And quite honestly, none of the women I’ve been with would have gone for that, either. That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what it would be like, and yeah, I’ve fantasized about it—Jesus H. how I’ve fantasized about it—but, in reality, I never thought it was going to happen. I never thought I’d really want to be burdened with that kind of responsibility in real life.

  Somewhere between Candi presenting her delectable ass in willing supplication to my authority over her and settling her in the corner—instead of sinking my cock inside her, which I’ve never wanted to do more—it’s really sinking in. I’ve unwittingly taken on that responsibility. Hell, I jumped in with both feet. I’ve taken on a big role here. All the spankings I’ve given her have been leading up to this moment.

  I’m in full on Daddy Dom mode.

  And I can’t lie. It’s a rush. It’s a rush like I’ve never experienced. My dick is harder than a railroad spike, and my heart is beating out of my chest. Fuck, I want to bang my head against the wall, I’m so hot for her right now. Her pussy is so fucking wet the tops of her thighs are coated with her own honey. Each time I’ve laid my hands on her, she’s practically vibrating with need, and I want to fulfill that need.

  Her reaction to everything I do, everything I want to do to her, is so fucking perfect, a part of me wants to worship at her delicate feet. The weird thing is, as hard as I am, as much as the prospect of sinking into her turns my crank, I genuinely don’t want her to ever pull this shit again. Not going to the strip club. And not thinking she can manipulate me.

  Her body is begging for me to take her. Hell, my body is begging for me to take her, but she still thinks I’m like other guys she can easily manipulate. What she needs to learn is that I’m nothing like any man she’s ever been with, and I’m going to make sure she knows that beyond any doubt.

  There are so many punishments daddies can give their little girls, and I’m going to delight in introducing her to each and everyone one of them.

  I grab the bag of goodies we got at Pinky’s earlier, out of the 4Runner, and head back inside. Taking a deep cleansing breath to clear my head and will some blood out of my dick, I open the door to my room and stop in my tracks.

  My little princess has one arm braced on the wall, her head resting on her forearm, and the fingers of her free hand are right where I want to be. She’s so busy working herself over, it’s a second before she realizes I’m in the room with her.

  “Oh god!” she cries, turning farther away as if to shield herself from me, but it’s way too late for that. “Get out!”

  Not on her life am I going anywhere. I close the door instead. “Oh, Candi, Candi, Candi,” I say strolling farther into the room. “Daddy didn’t say you were allowed to come.”

  “Well, I-I-and you,” she stutters facing the wall.

  “You-you,” I mock. “Only naughty girls come without permission.” I turn her around to face me, her back against the wall. I grab her hand and force her wet digits back inside her along with mine. I bite back a groan when her hot cunt squeezes down on our combined fingers. I drag our juice-slicked hands from her slit and hold them up as if for her inspection.

  “Looks like someone’s been stealing orgasms. What are we going to do about that?” I suck her wet fingers into my mouth, glorying at her tangy taste as I paint her lips with my wet digit.

  Her face registers shock, but her lips part so I can shove inside, wishing it was my cock rubbing against her tongue. I groan as she instinctively sucks.

  “I think someone owes Daddy an orgasm of his own. Don’t you?”

  Her pretty blue eyes go wide as understanding sinks in. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, “You want me,” she points at herself, “to-to—”

  I fist my
hand in her hair and bring her face up to mine, “You’re going to get on your knees and suck Daddy’s cock, like you sucked my finger, and you’re going to swallow everything I give you. Yes, sir?”

  “Ya-yes, sir.” She’s practically panting, and her tongue darts out, licking over her full rose-petal lips like she could already taste me there.

  Hell, it’s taking a force of will for me to follow through with my plan. “But first, I need you to bend over the bed,” I say, holding up the bag. “Someone needs to learn what happens when they try to manipulate their daddy.”

  “What? I-I didn’t.”

  “Really? You didn’t call me Daddy just because you thought you could use it to your advantage? Was that not what you were doing?”

  Clearly stunned but knowing it’s true, she says, “But I thought you like that—I mean, you call yourself that—”

  “I do like it,” I say, cupping her face, and run the pad of my thumb along her lips. The soft lips that are going to be wrapped around my cock in a minute. “I love it, actually, but you didn’t say it because you meant it. You said it to try to get your way. And that’s why I’m going to put something inside your bottom to give you an idea of what happens when you try to manipulate me.”

  “My...bottom?” .

  I kiss her cheek, and turn her toward the bed. “I hear it helps to relax.”

  “But don’t you want me to-to...” She points to my dick, like she can’t say it.

  “Suck my cock? Oh, princess, you’re going to do that. Trust me, I’m counting the seconds until you do that. But first, you’re going to learn another kind of lesson. The spanking was for your reckless, foolish behavior tonight. As was the corner time. Giving Daddy an orgasm is a mild punishment for stealing one of your own. And this.” I hold up the butt plug package in front of her with a flourish. “This is for trying to manipulate me. Now, I think you won’t be needing this anymore tonight.”

  I unzip her gold skirt, let it fall to the floor, and pull her scrap of a shirt over her head. When I unlatch her bra, her breasts swing free, and I can’t help but cup one, thumbing a gorgeous nipple. Pink, her nipples are a delicate shade of pink, and the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Like little rosebuds.