She mumbled a groggy “good morning” happily, then gasped when his callused finger brushed against her clit. His cock was already fully awake, pressing between her bottom cheeks.
“Daddy’s hungry for something sweet, baby girl,” Clay said, nibbling on her neck and shoulder. “Do you have anything sweet to give me?”
“I can make you some pancakes.”
He laughed and threw back the comforter, leaving her naked body exposed and vulnerable. She squealed when his hand palmed her bottom cheek and squeezed. “Such a sassy attitude coming from someone with a sore bottom.”
“It’s not sore anymore, Daddy,” she said sweetly.
“Hmmm, is that right?” he mused in mock displeasure. “Maybe Daddy didn’t spank you hard enough.” He brought his hand down in a smart slap. “Do you need another spanking?”
“No,” she said, giggling and trying to free herself from his hold. She could already feel the moisture pooling between her legs, as it always did when he spoke in that way to her.
His arm held her in place while his finger slipped lower into her wetness. “If you don’t need a spanking, what is it that you need, baby girl?” he rumbled in her ear.
She stopped trying to wriggle out of his grasp and parted her legs, wantonly exposing herself to his view and touch.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised.
“I ache, Daddy,” she pouted. Her pussy pulsed with desire that was growing exponentially with every touch and word he spoke.
“Do you? What exactly aches, baby?” he murmured, removing his hand from between her legs and circling it over her waist and hip.
“My pussy,” she whimpered, enjoying the naughty game they were playing.
His deep chuckle warmed her from the inside out. “Well, we can’t have that.” He readjusted her to lie on her back, where he pushed her ankles forward. Her knees parted of their own accord, and she moaned when he leaned forward and landed soft butterfly kisses on her clit and the sensitive lips around her entrance. “Daddy’s going to kiss your ache all better.”
“Will you kiss it with your cock please, Daddy?”
It was Clay’s turn to moan. “You sure, baby girl? I warn you, I want to kiss it hard.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, arching her pelvis forward. “It needs to be kissed really, really hard.”
She didn’t have to ask again. He straddled his knees around her and in one smooth motion buried his cock into her balls deep. Her pussy clamped down around him, milking him as he dragged his cock out. Sparks of electricity ignited throughout her body. She groaned in pleasure when he slammed back into her.
Sometimes Clay made gentle love to her, but this time he ravaged her There was something about being stretched and forced to accommodate his animal lust that made her feel utterly dominated and possessed. She was his to do with as he pleased, and that point was reiterated with every thrust inside of her.
He flipped her around so that she was on her hands and knees while he took her pussy from behind, landing a gratuitous hard swat whenever he felt compelled. Oh, how she loved Clay and all the white-hot passion as well as the little girl adoration he stirred in her. His hand reached around and fondled her clit as he continued to pound into her, igniting flames of heat in her belly and sex.
After each of them had their release, Clay collapsed next to her on the bed. “Fuck, I love you,” he exclaimed.
She snuggled into his arms as he wrapped them around her. “I love you too, but you’re not supposed to say that for the first time after sex.”
“Pshaw. That’s ridiculous, and besides that wasn’t the first time.”
“No?” she asked. “Did you say it last night?”
“Yes, I did, baby girl, and I plan to say it every night from here on out. My little girl needs to know how much she is loved.”
Abby sighed happily, grateful to be where she was in that moment. It had only been the day before that she’d feared Clay was lost to her forever, but the opposite was true. He was beside her now, professing his love. She had a lot to learn about what it was like being loved by Daddy Clay, and she couldn’t wait for him to teach her everything.
The End
Part Two
By
Jane Henry
Chapter One
Shane Weston stared into the mirror, straightening his tie, and frowned. He hadn’t worn a tie since his daddy remarried a decade prior, and he didn’t much like it. Casual t-shirts, well-worn jeans, and a comfortable pair of leather chaps more suited him than the fancy get-up Clay’s fiancée Abby had cajoled him into wearing for the wedding. He fastened the thick leather belt at his waist, dusted off his Stetson, and placed it on his head, thankful he could at least wear a few familiar things.
“It’s just an hour,” Abby had said, her fetching eyes pleading with him as she handed him the tie that coordinated with Clay’s. “As soon as we say ‘I do’ you can whip that tie off and toss it in the river for all I care.” Shane and Abby had forged a friendship after a rocky start and now that he’d gotten to know her, he couldn’t help but like her.
“An hour?” Clay had teased. “More like ten minutes, so I can whisk you off into the sunset.”
Something had tugged at Shane then, seeing the way Abby giggled at Clay’s teasing look, and Shane had finally caved and ordered the clothes Abby wanted him to wear to coordinate with Clay’s.
He scowled at his reflection and shrugged. He supposed he cleaned up alright. He’d deigned to trim his longish black hair, and tidied up the scruffy beard he’d taken to wearing. The denim blue shirt matched the color of his eyes, and the tie made it look more like he wore his Sunday best. Still, he couldn’t wait to shrug the fancy attire and put on something a bit more comfortable.
“Shane?”
He started, not knowing anyone was still at the ranch. He’d come back to make sure everything was locked up tight, and the two lovers’ wedding rings jangled in his pants pocket. He’d thought the small wedding party had already made their way to the chapel, but to his surprise, Daisy stood by the cluster of black cherry trees that lined the front lawn of the ranch.
Was that Daisy? Or had an angel somehow come into his midst?
She stood with her curly blonde hair tucked up onto her head in intricate swirls like a halo, curlicues framing her heart-shaped face, the color of her dress a periwinkle blue. The dress hugged her curvy frame in all the right ways, the front dipping just enough to reveal the shadow of her full bust, the waist cinching in a wrap style that accentuated her curves, then flaring to just below the knee. Silver earrings dangled in her ears, matching the necklace she wore around her neck, and she carried a clutch purse in one hand and a bouquet of spring flowers in the other. She wore a pair of silver sandals that looked strappy and lethal, causing her to wobble when she made her way over to him. Or was it something else that made her wobble on her feet?
“Daisy?” Shane asked, reaching a hand out instinctively to steady the girl as she approached him. “Why are you here? You alright?”
“I… I came back to get something is all,” she said, her eyes shuttering as she attempted to hold her head high, but as she took another step, she went lurching in his direction and her bravado failed her. She emitted a little shriek as she went tumbling, but with the instinct bred of years lassoing cattle, Shane easily braced himself and caught her in his strong embrace. Now that she was close to him, he could smell the faintest scent of lilac, and something else—something stronger. He clenched his jaw as he righted her.
“Have you been drinking?”
She turned away from him. “Might’ve toasted the bride and groom-to-be over brunch with the others,” she said. “But not much.”
He felt his jaw clench as he held her firmly by his side. “Uh huh. Last I checked, the legal drinking age in Dallas is twenty-one, not eighteen, little lady. How do you think your sister and future brother-in-law would feel about this?”
She yank
ed her arm away from him and turned to go, her gait still unsteady. She tossed over her shoulder, “I think they’re too busy to notice, and anyway, I only had a little. Now if you’ll leave me be, I’ll be heading to the chapel before I miss the whole shebang.” She wobbled again, and in two strides he’d caught up with her.
“You’ll come with me,” he said, marching her with conviction to his pickup truck that waited in the driveway. How could she? He’d only known her for three months, since she’d grown old enough to leave foster care and come live with Abby and Clay. She lived on the other side of the ranch house, and to Shane, she’d seemed a sweet little kid, but no more than that. She was good-natured and jovial, but immature, still running around with the few hooligans she’d befriended at the local high school. He hadn’t paid much attention to her, as he was a good twelve years her senior and had no use for immature little girls who were barely out of high school. He woke at dawn to do his chores, spent his days in the barn, and when he came in to dinner, she was often pulling a shift at the local grocers.
How had he failed to see the woman who’d blossomed under his very eyes the past few months? He swallowed hard as he opened the door to his truck and helped hoist her up, the silky feel of her dress covering her womanly curves making him hard.
He would not be attracted to Abby’s little sister, dammit. He was a full-grown man in need of a full-grown woman, not a man in need of a little girl who’d do better with a hand across her ass than a man by her side. With more force than necessary, he buckled her into the truck, hit the lock as if she would run like a scared stray if he didn’t, and slammed the door. Muttering under his breath, he marched over to the driver’s side and yanked the door open, only to find her sitting in the cab with her arms folded across her chest, muttering something about ‘manhandling,’ and ‘rude,’ and ‘not the boss of me.’
“You sit there and be quiet,” he said. How he longed to turn the little brat over his knee and teach her to behave herself. “We haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other, Daisy, but there’s something you’d do well to learn right fast.” His southern drawl thickened when he was angry. “I don’t cotton to selfish behavior.”
“Selfish behavior?” she spat back, tossing her hands up in the air. “Who exactly do you think you are, Shane? Just because you’re like twenty years older than I am does not give you the right to boss me around.”
Twenty years older? The nerve!
He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled before he spoke. “First of all, I’m not bossing anyone around. I’m merely telling you that your behavior is not acceptable. Second of all, I’m not—”
“You most certainly are bossing me around!”
He turned his full six-foot frame toward her little one and pierced her with a look he’d mastered as the eldest of six little ranch hands. His voice, low and dangerous in the privacy of the small cab, was barely controlled. “That’s enough, young lady. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I am not twenty years your senior.”
“Pfft,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re old enough to be my daddy.”
She was goddamned lucky he wasn’t her daddy. He’d take his hand to her naughty little ass good and proper.
“You’ll listen to me now,” he continued, holding onto his temper by a thread. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself tipsy on your sister’s wedding day. You may not care, but the man she’s marrying is my best friend, who I think the world of, and I will not allow you to ruin their day by disgracing them.” He allowed his words to settle in as he pierced her with a look. “You get me?”
To his surprise, her pretty hazel eyes softened then. “I don’t want to ruin their day, Shane,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to… do anything stupid.”
The way her voice sounded made him soften a bit. “Then why’d you go and drink, honey? We’ll have plenty to celebrate later. Why now?”
She sighed. “Malcolm gave me some of his mother’s moonshine. I was… nervous. And he… told me it would give me courage.”
“Malcolm?” His voice sounded angrier than he intended. “Moonshine?” Who the hell was Malcolm?
“My ex-boyfriend,” she said, shaking her head.
He’d beat the tar out of the little shit.
“Yeah?” He clenched his left hand into a fist she couldn’t see while he started up his truck with his right hand, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started a conversation involving her ex. He needed to change the subject. “And why are you nervous? What’s there to be nervous about?”
“You didn’t know? Abigail asked me to sing at the ceremony.”
All the talk about tiaras and invitations and fondant and buttercream made his head spin, and he’d dutifully ignored all the details for months. He cleared his throat. “Well, now, honey, there ain’t nothin’ to be nervous about. It’s just us.” The wedding was the smallest he’d ever attended, just the bride and groom, him and Daisy as witnesses, the ranch hands Clay hired, and a few other friends. “Why don’t you practice here, with me, on the way?”
He flicked the directional left, and turned down the road that would bring them to the chapel.
“No.”
His brows shot up as he gave her a sidelong glance, and he pulled to a red light. No? “Come again?”
She’d crossed her arms on her chest, and her jaw was clenched, her eyes fiery and defiant. “You can’t make me.”
The sudden desire to reach for her blonde curls and tug her hair, to teach her how to mind, startled him with the intensity. He had no idea where her defiance was bred, but he’d make it his mission to find out.
What the hell?
She was too young for him.
Unavailable. Defiant.
And she would soon be his best friend’s sister-in-law.
“Fine, then. Don’t sing. You’re right, I can’t make you, nor do I want to. We’re almost there anyway.” But he couldn’t help but issue one final warning. “Now you behave yourself and sober up good or I’ll do it for you.”
She cast a wary look his way. “How, pray tell, would you go about doing that?”
As he pulled into the parking lot of the little chapel, he shrugged with nonchalance even as he allowed steel to enter his voice. He threw the truck into park and cut the engine. “I figure a good old-fashioned spanking ought to do the trick.” He shrugged. “But maybe we won’t have to find out.” He flexed his fingers and cracked his knuckles.
Her hazel eyes widened, then narrowed, before she yanked open the door of the truck and stomped away.
He smirked, satisfied at a job well done. Seemed she was sober enough, all right.
Chapter Two
Later, Daisy felt a bit guilty about not paying attention to her sister’s wedding day. She loved that her sister had found Clay. Abby had worked so hard saving her money to send Daisy to college, that she deserved to be happy now.
She reasoned that it was the nerves anticipating her performance that distracted her, and ignored the little voice that called her bluff, reminding her that what really distracted her was the tall, muscular, handsome, and bossy-as-hell cowboy.
As the minister prayed over the new couple, Daisy took a moment to surreptitiously glance at Shane. Before today, she’d only seen him in his well-worn work clothes and a t-shirt. Damn, he shined up nice. He wore a button-down blue shirt that accentuated the blue of his eyes, stark in contrast to the jet-black hair that framed his rugged, handsome face, his jaw edged by his dark, scruffy beard. He was so big… strong… immovable. Something in her stirred.
“You may now kiss the bride.” The minister grinned benevolently, Clay whooped and hollered, and Abby flushed like a schoolgirl as he swept her into his arms and kissed her. When Clay bent Abby back, Shane’s gaze caught hers at the exact same moment she looked his way. Though he smiled, there was something else in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher, because the minister was calling her name, beckoning for her to go
to the podium and sing the final hymn as Clay and Abby made their way to the exit. Daisy froze, staring at the podium for a split second before her gaze swung back to Shane’s.
He smiled at her. It was the first time she’d ever seen the man smile, and to her surprise, it did strange, wonderful things to her. Her tummy fluttered and her heart raced as he gave her a gentle, encouraging nod, tipping his head to the podium. It was all the encouragement she needed. She nodded to him and his smile broke out even wider, his eyes crinkling around the edges, his white teeth flashing at her. She trotted to the podium, took the microphone in hand, and without giving it another thought, she sang for her sister, her voice lifting to the tune of the southern hymn Abby had requested, her very soul swelling as her voice filled the small chapel.
The newlyweds did not rush out of the church but sauntered as the hauntingly beautiful song lingered. As Daisy sang, her heart soared, her fears vanishing as the lyrics and beat of the song took her away. She was where she was meant to be, in her element.
The others left the church one by one until the final word was sung, and when she finished, she became aware of nearly vacant church—vacant except for one lone cowboy tipping his Stetson to her.
“I never knew you could sing like that,” Shane said, awe written across his face.
And I never knew you could look like that, she thought, but she schooled her features to a demure smile and nod. “Thank you, Shane. I wanted to do it for Abby.”
He took her by the elbow and led her out of the chapel, where Abby and Clay received their guests. Shane and Daisy were the last two out.
“Pleased to see you two enjoying each other’s company,” Clay said, grinning with pride as he held his new wife’s hand.
“Oh?” Daisy asked. Why on earth did he care if they enjoyed each other’s company? His observation made her squirm for some reason, and she wondered if Shane felt the same, as he released her elbow.
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