Page 37 of Daddy's Little Librarian
She burst into tears. She didn’t mean to, it just happened. She also threw her arms around his neck and crawled into his lap so he could hold her, all of her, and she didn’t care how many neighbors were milling around outside watching them.
“Yes!” she whispered into the side of his neck. “Yes, Daddy, please! I thought you were mad at me. I thought you were going to leave.”
His arms tightened around her, holding her as close as two people could come.
“Of course, I’m mad at you,” he said fondly. “You hit me with a flower pot. I’m going to make a new rule about that. I’m also going to make a new rule about humming or singing anything that came from Pirate Pete’s. Or doing Daddy’s laundry, but frankly, we’ve got more important things to discuss right now.”
Tipping back her head, she met his smile with one of her own. “Like what?”
“We still have things to do before we go to sleep tonight.”
She drew back a little further, brow furrowing. “Like what?” she asked again.
He remained quiet, his gaze slowly heating, waiting for her to remember. And she did. The memory hit her clit first, before zinging out through all the rest of her. He wanted to kiss her special place and have her one more time.
“B-but you’re hurt,” she protested, her face and belly both flushing hot with a slow, molten flowing sensation that wasted no time in spilling down between her legs.
“I’m a guy, I just got out of prison, and I am not that hurt.” Bed, he mouthed and smacked her on the butt.
It didn’t hurt, but she hopped up off his lap and he came hopping up right after her. He chased her into the house and up the stairs, smacking her butt every step of the way until, by the time she reached her bedroom, she was breathless from laughter and running, but most of all, from excitement.
He took his t-shirt off over his head, dropping it on the floor as he pursued her, slowly now, all the way to the edge of the bed. “I get to unwrap the present this time,” he said, pushing her hands away from her pajama zipper. She understood what that meant, but she liked that he took his own sweet time unzipping her. He peeled her out of her clothes slowly, kissing and caressing the parts of her as he bared them. Her shoulders, breasts, belly, thighs. He even kissed her feet before stripping her completely bare and laying her down on the bed.
None of those were her special place, though. That he found on the journey back up her and from the moment his hot mouth made contact, nothing else mattered.
It was just her, and him, and the sighing moans he wrought from her one kiss, one nibble, and eventually, one slow, deep thrust at a time.
Just her, and him.
Forever.
The End
