Call Me Daddy

by Jade West

  I love being icky with Laine. Love pushing her boundaries.

  I slide into bed beside her, my cock already hard for more, but it won’t be tonight. She’s taken enough.

  She sighs as she snuggles against me, and I kiss her hair. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, Daddy Nick.”

  I’m Daddy Nick again, but that’s ok. I hold her so tight and she drifts off to sleep so much more quickly than usual. Her breath is quiet but steady, and just being next to her soothes me. I never want to let her go.

  I love my sweet little Laine more than I’d have ever imagined. It’s more than desperation for a life less lonely than the one I’ve been living for so long.

  It’s in her quiet grace. Her sweet smile. Her easy laugh. It’s in the way she’s so kind, the way she cares for me, looks up to me, the way she appreciates everything I do for her. The way she’s so keen to please me. So keen to be mine.

  I love Laine because her bad start hasn’t made her bitter, or hostile. It hasn’t closed her down to love or made her suspicious. She’s still a sweet, soft soul with a warm heart.

  She’s my beautiful girl. The one bright star on a cloudy night.

  I drift off to sleep so soundly in her arms.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Laine

  I wake up in Daddy Nick’s arms. No college. No work. It makes me smile to find him still sleeping.

  I’m not a virgin. I’m not a virgin. I’m not a virgin.

  I feel different. Squiggly inside.

  Happy.

  I roll over to face him, and he stirs but doesn’t open his eyes. I stare at him, just because I can. It’s a guilty pleasure, staring without him knowing. Like I’m spying, chasing secret glances.

  He looks so beautiful in the morning light. His dark eyelashes, his perfect shadow of stubble. His strong nose, his cheekbones. His brows are so well shaped, serious, even when he’s sleeping. The light makes the grey at his temples look so fine, just a smattering, and it doesn’t make him look old, not like Kelly Anne thinks. It makes him look so professional.

  “I know you’re staring,” he says, and his eyes open into mine. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  My heart flutters. “Morning, Daddy Nick.”

  He doesn’t move and neither do I. We lay still, just staring, and there’s the softest smile on his lips.

  “I haven’t slept in in such a long time,” he tells me, and I can believe it. He’s always up so much earlier than me.

  I smile. “It’s relaxing. All warm and snuggly.”

  “It’s a tight fit, this bed.” He stretches out his legs to illustrate, and he’s right, it is a tight fit, but I like it that way. I tell him so and he holds me tighter, squeezes me until I giggle, and then his eyes are serious again. “How do you feel, Laine?”

  “Good,” I say. “Amazing. You made it amazing. Everything I ever dreamed of.”

  “Your kind words do wonders for a man’s ego.”

  But Daddy Nick doesn’t have an ego. He’s strong, but not arrogant. I know plenty of arrogant people, I’ve known them my whole life, the people that think they know everything, that they’re cooler than everyone, better than everyone. Better than me. I’ve known so many people who think they’re better than me.

  But not Daddy Nick.

  “Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

  I tell him no, because I don’t want to move, but my tummy betrays me and rumbles.

  “I think you might be a little liar, Laine Seabourne.” He taps my nose, and I can’t stop laughing. I wonder if it’s some kind of weird post-virginity-losing endorphin thing, because my body feels light enough to float away. He throws back the covers and I groan through the giggles, but he doesn’t care. He kisses my forehead before he drops his feet to the floor, and then he’s up.

  My laughter stops when I see he’s hard. A pang between my legs as I remember how he felt there.

  He grabs his cock as I stare. “You can’t honestly be surprised, sweetheart. I’ve been in bed with a beautiful, delicious young woman.”

  Woman.

  He called me a woman.

  It feels better than I ever thought it would feel.

  “Are you getting up with me?” he asks, and I nod. Even though the sheets have embraced me as one of their own, I still want to get up with him. I hold out my hand like a lazy cow as I yawn, and he pulls me up. I can feel the difference when I get to my feet, my pussy so tender, and my legs wobbly.

  “All alright?” he asks. He takes my pink robe from the door and helps me into it.

  “I’m good,” I say. “I’m just… I feel different…”

  “You feel like you’ve been fucked,” he says. “You’ll get used to that, sweetheart.”

  I follow him as he steps out onto the landing, keeping to his side like a shadow. I follow him into the bathroom without a thought, and he smiles a sly smile.

  “Wanting to return the favour?” I look blankly until his smile turns into a smirk. “Daddy needs to take a piss, Laine.” My cheeks burn, and I say I’m sorry, but he grabs my hand. “I didn’t mean you should leave. You don’t need to leave, sweetheart. Not if you don’t want to. No secrets, remember?”

  I’ve never seen a man pee before. The thought excites me, even though it might be icky. I can’t even imagine what Kelly Anne would say.

  He steps over to the toilet and lifts the seat, and his cock is in his hand, still a little hard as he aims at the bowl. I step closer, and my mouth is dry. It feels dirty. Nice dirty.

  The stream comes out so fast when it starts, and it must feel good, because he closes his eyes and lets out a groan. I’m still staring when he opens them, and he’s smirking again. I feel like such a silly idiot, and maybe he knows, because he tips his head and beckons me closer.

  “Don’t be shy,” he tells me.

  He takes my hand and I jump a little as he wraps my fingers around his dick. I’m not expecting him to let go, but he does. His cock jerks and makes me start, and pee sprays off the side of the bowl like crazy. He laughs. “Steady, sweetheart.”

  I’m sure this isn’t what other people do, but I’m transfixed. It half makes me want to giggle and half makes my clit tingle, and I’m positive that must make me a dirty girl, not the little prude Kelly Anne has me down for. That makes me strangely proud. Strangely grown up. Kelly Anne tells me everything about her sex life, and there’s never been anything like this. But then again, there’s never been so much of anything Daddy Nick has shown me. Nobody’s ever put their tongue in Kelly Anne’s asshole and told her how good it tastes. She’d definitely have told me about that. She’d have bragged for a month.

  It’s ridiculously fun, aiming someone else’s pee around the bowl. His cock feels different like this, only half hard. He’s still big and veiny, but less… threatening. I dunno if threatening is the right word, but it’ll do.

  The spray eases to a trickle, and then just a drip, and I wonder what I should do next. Maybe shake him, or wipe him? I don’t have a clue. I squeeze him instead, and it takes him by surprise. He grunts, and shifts on his feet, and there’s a thrill right through me as I feel him swell in my grip.

  “Dirty girl,” he says, and I’m beginning to believe it. My pussy clenches and it feels different than usual… tender, and achy, and… horny. I keep squeezing, moving my hand up and down him with the sweetest smile on my face I can manage, and he likes that too. He can’t stop looking at me.

  His hand tightens around mine, and he moves me harder, faster.

  “Want to jerk Daddy off in the bathroom? Is that what my dirty little girl wants?”

  I nod. I do want that.

  I feel more in control than I’ve ever felt around him, wrapped up tight in a fluffy robe while he stands naked, his dick in my hand. I’ve been learning, trying really hard to do it just as he likes it, and it’s working. His breath is fast, and the muscles in his thighs are so tight, his eyes staring at my fingers as they work so hard.

  “That’s so
good,” he groans. “That’s really good, Laine.”

  I don’t feel so much like his little girl this morning. I’m a woman, not a prudish little virgin. I’m the one giving him all the pleasure as he thrusts in my grip.

  “You want to make me come? Like this?”

  “Yes.” My voice sounds more confident than usual.

  His eyes meet mine, and I smile but don’t add a please or a Daddy or even a Daddy Nick. I can tell he’s thinking about it, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything and I take it as some kind of silly victory. I can’t explain why, it just is.

  Not being a virgin anymore has definitely gone to my head.

  I nearly snort giggle at the thought of me in slutty underwear and ridiculously high heels as I morph into some sex siren, but when he arches his back and his cock twitches, everything becomes so serious.

  I’m going to make him come, without his help, without him taking over, or putting it in my mouth, or gripping my fingers and showing me what to do.

  “Fuck, Laine,” he groans. “That’s so fucking nice.”

  My heart swells with pride, knowing I can do this. I’m not such the silly little prude I thought I was.

  My wrist is aching but I don’t slow down, I concentrate on the tip of him, where he’s getting wet, and that makes him grunt and sway and curse. I love the way it makes him curse.

  “Fuck, I’m close,” he tells me, but I already know that, I can feel it in the way his cock jerks, in the rasp of his breath.

  I could explode with joy when the first spurt of cum splatters the cistern. It’s not even close to the bowl, but that doesn’t matter, Daddy Nick isn’t even looking. His eyes are screwed shut, his voice nothing more than grunts as he spurts again and again.

  I made him come.

  A milestone that seems like such a big deal.

  I can’t stop grinning.

  “You look like the cat who got the cream,” he laughs when he’s gathered his breath. “Well done, sweetheart. That was perfect.”

  Perfect.

  My cheeks tickle from smiling so bright. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be expecting that kind of treatment every morning, if you’re not careful,” he says, but he’s joking, his eyes sparkle. “Now, let’s go and get you some breakfast, you’ve certainly earned it.”

  He slaps my ass as he passes me by, and grins as he grabs his robe.

  This isn’t the morning Daddy Nick I’ve come to know. He makes breakfast and hums a song I’ve never heard. He’s relaxed today. Today I help him, chopping up mushrooms as he fries the sausages, and getting the bread ready for the toaster.

  “Teamwork,” he says as I drop the mushrooms into the pan.

  “Teamwork,” I agree, and raise myself on tiptoes until he presses his lips to mine.

  The bacon smells incredible, and I really am ravenous. I let out the most contented sigh as we sit down to eat our meal, and he smiles over at me before he tucks in.

  “I used to hate the weekends,” he tells me. “They felt so empty. I’d work, just to fill the time.”

  “Mine too,” I admit. “I mean I babysat, but Kelly Anne is normally busy in the daytime, and Mum would be out. Crappy TV was my friend.”

  “Crosswords were mine,” he admits. “When the to-do list was checked off, that is.”

  The bacon tastes as delicious as it smells. I tell him so and he compliments me on how the mushrooms are sliced just so.

  “So, here we are,” he says. “A whole weekend with no work, and no babysitting. What to do, Laine?”

  I shrug. “Whatever you want. I’m happy just being here with you.”

  “And I’m happy being here with you,” he says. “But we should go out, do something, live a little.”

  I’ve been living plenty, but I don’t tell him that. I get the feeling he’s really breathing for the first time in forever, and I get that, because I am too. Like a butterfly breaking out of a lonely cocoon. That’s what I feel like.

  Like a butterfly.

  Butterflies.

  I have an idea. A great idea that gives me shivers.

  “What?” he asks. “Where do you want to go?”

  I shrug like it’s nothing. “Just somewhere. I need to look it up online.”

  “We’ll go wherever you want,” he says. “My treat.”

  But not today. Today will be my treat.

  I keep quiet and eat my breakfast, and he does too. He looks at me curiously, as though he’s trying to read me, but I keep a poker face, determined not to ruin the surprise. I so want to surprise him.

  I clear our plates as soon as we’re done.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nick

  She’s bursting to tell me where we’re headed, clutching her phone so tightly as she relays the directions from the navigation software. Her voice bubbles with excitement. A surprise, she insists.

  I can’t remember a time someone gave me a surprise like this. Not even Louisa. Louisa was sweet and vivacious, but she wasn’t thoughtful. I enjoyed spoiling Louisa, just as I enjoy spoiling my little Laine, but the creature in the seat beside me is turning out to be a very different girl altogether.

  “Don’t I get a clue?” I ask.

  Her hair shimmers as she shakes her head. “No. You’ll like it, though. At least I hope you will.”

  I’m already liking it. Being with her is enjoyment enough all on its own.

  I keep my eyes on the road, none the wiser of our destination as I take the roads she points out.

  “Not far,” she says. “Take a right, up here.”

  And that’s when I see it. A brown tourist sign on the roadside. Butterfly Zoo.

  “Crap.” She groans. “I didn’t know that would be there. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  But it is a surprise. It’s such a surprise I’m lost for words. I was just a boy when I last took my net and disappeared into the countryside to indulge my fascination with butterflies.

  Now I only admire them dead. So many lifeless specimens, pinned and mounted in frames on my wall.

  The excitement in my stomach is boyish and unfamiliar. An innocence long since forgotten. Buried, with the rest of my life.

  “You do want to go, right?” she asks. “You do still like them?”

  “I love them,” I tell her, and my heart pounds with the thrill as we pull into the car park.

  I park up in a space and turn off the engine, then sit, staring in wonder at the bright painted wings over the entrance doors.

  I want to tell her how strange I feel inside, how her thoughtfulness has moved me to nothing but stunted silence, but it’s all I can do to smile and take her hand in mine.

  Her fingers squeeze. “They’ve got over two hundred species here. Some rare ones, too. I looked it up online.”

  “This is really something, Laine,” I tell her.

  “So, let’s go,” she says. “Show me some butterflies. I can’t wait to see.”

  Neither can I.

  We check in at the entrance, and as I pay the fee I ramble on to the attendant with an enthusiasm so alien. I hand Laine the complimentary spotter pamphlet with a smile.

  I won’t need it. I know so many by heart.

  The place isn’t busy, not on a cold December morning. The crowds are sparse, even though the glass ceilings bathe us in beautiful warm sunlight. We enter the main butterfly dome unhindered by queues.

  A mass of exotic plants. Colour and life and beating wings. Thousands upon thousands of butterflies that overload my senses. I gawp, like an imbecile, so taken by the sight that my breath catches in my throat.

  “This is amazing!” she says, and it’s all I can do to nod.

  An emerald and black butterfly takes lazy flight in front of us, its wings big and shimmering with metallic beauty. Laine frantically thumbs through the spotter guide, but I still her with a squeeze of my hand on her shoulder.

  “Papilio blumei,” I tell her. “Found only on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi. It’s a peaco
ck, otherwise known as a green swallowtail.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she says, and her eyes follow it all the way out of sight.

  “I’ve got one on the wall.”

  “I’ve seen it.” She smiles. “But it’s so much more beautiful when it’s flying, don’t you think?”

  I’m sure there’s no deeper meaning intended behind her words, but I feel it nonetheless.

  “Yes, Laine. It’s so much more beautiful alive.”

  “I feel alive,” she tells me.

  “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

  I wander amongst the plants, leading Laine so gently along the paths marked out. So many butterflies, and I tell her about them all. I tell her their Latin names and where they’re from. I tell her if they’re endangered, and what sizes they grow to.

  She listens in wonder, hanging onto every word I say. I think she may love them nearly as much as I do.

  Her steps are light and bouncy, her gasps genuine. “That one!” she squeals, pointing up ahead. “It’s so beautiful!”

  And it is.

  Of course it is.

  The Maculinea Arion is the largest and rarest of the blue English butterflies. Little, blue-eyed Laine reminds me of one – so beautiful in her fragility. So graceful and delicate. Such a rare delight. I tell her so, and her smile melts my heart.

  “That’s really nice.”

  “And really true, sweetheart.”

  The Arion flutters close, and my breath hitches, the thrill palpable. I see the butterfly’s path, see so clearly that it’s going to land. It couldn’t be more perfect, and it makes me shiver. Fate, she would say, and I’m beginning to believe her. I step away and take out my phone, just quickly enough to call up my camera app.

  The butterfly dithers around her head before it lands, perches and flaps its wings once, twice, three times before it rests, so blue against Laine’s pale blonde hair. I watch my beautiful girl crowned by the beautiful butterfly, my heart full to bursting as so many others flutter around us.

  Her shock is divine, her expression of wonder so beautifully innocent, and I know it for certain. Laine will love butterflies as much as I do. I can see it in her eyes.