Christmas Daddies

by Jade West

  I want him to know that I really am sorry.

  He isn’t far behind, and my breath catches as he closes the door behind us. The belt swishes on the hook as it slams, and I wonder if I’m really ready for this.

  “Over the desk,” he tells me. “On your front.”

  I lower myself so carefully, pressing my cheek to the leather inlay. It smells rich and woody, like old books and scotch.

  I imagine Nick here, in this very same position. I wonder if his heart used to race like mine is now.

  He lifts my dress, and tugs down my leggings and my knickers without saying a word.

  The air feels cold. My skin feels prickly.

  My mouth feels so dry I can hardly swallow.

  “Six,” he says. “I’m going to give you six. Not because I’m angry, but because you deserve it.”

  “Naughty girls need discipline,” I whisper.

  “Discipline shows care, Laine.”

  “I know,” I tell him. “I know, Daddy Nick.”

  “I love you, Laine,” he tells me and I’m so sad for what I’ve done that it hurts more than his belt ever could.

  “I love you too, Daddy.”

  “Six,” he repeats. “And you’ll learn your lesson.”

  I’ve already learned it, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but us. Nothing matters but loving Nick and him loving me back. Nothing matters but making sure I never hurt him again.

  I gasp as the leather glides across my ass cheeks. “This is going to hurt,” he says. He gives me a tap, and the leather feels so smooth against my bare skin.

  I wonder how many times it’s been used for this.

  I hold my breath. Grip the edge of the desk so tightly.

  And then I wait.

  Silence.

  One long empty silence.

  “I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispers.

  And then he hits me.

  I squeal and jolt forward on the desk, and my breath catches.

  It sears. It really fucking sears.

  Burns so bad I fidget from foot to foot.

  “One,” he says.

  I don’t want two, and I know it.

  I really don’t want two.

  I cry out when it lands, and it sounds so pathetic and desperate.

  The tears come so easily, filling my eyes and spilling over.

  “Two,” he says, and my body jolts with these crazy sobs that make me feel like a baby. “You understand why I’m doing this?” he asks.

  I nod. I do understand.

  I asked for it. In every sense of the word.

  I squeal again when it lands for the third time.

  A baby, I’m such a fucking baby.

  “Three.”

  I lurch forward and wail like a banshee as four strikes, and my ass is on fire.

  “Four.”

  I cry openly at the next, no longer caring how I look, or if I take my punishment well for him.

  I don’t care about anything much apart from the burn.

  “Five.”

  I close my eyes for six. And he waits.

  He waits until my sobs ease, and my body stops shaking.

  He waits until I twist my head to look at him and blink through the tears.

  “Have you learned your lesson, Laine?” he asks and I nod.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He drops the belt.

  No six.

  It makes the tears come all the harder.

  And this time he’s there. Pulling me up and holding me and smoothing my hair as I cry.

  I have no right to cry, but Daddy Nick doesn’t seem to care about that. Daddy Nick is so warm and kind.

  So loving, even when I’ve caused him so much pain.

  “I told you it would hurt,” he says, and I nod against his chest, my wet eyes soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

  I hope I don’t snot on him, but I doubt he’d care so much anyway.

  He puts his hands on my cheeks and tips my face to his and his eyes aren’t angry anymore, just scared.

  “I’ll never use the belt on you again,” he says. “You’re not a little girl, Laine. We just like to pretend you are.”

  A strange sob from my throat, and I’m nodding. I’m really nodding.

  And I’m happy, and sad, and relieved, and scared, and everything in between.

  “Thank you, Nick,” I say.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nick

  Laine needed to be cared for, just as I needed to care for her. Both needing that special someone to slot so nicely into their broken parts.

  It was beautiful.

  It still is beautiful.

  But this game can’t be all we are, not anymore.

  I pour her a whisky as I pour myself one. “It’ll help calm you down,” I say.

  She manages a smile.

  I take a seat at the table opposite and we sit in a silence no longer simmering with conflict.

  We’re past that now.

  My demons have backed away into their shadowy pit, and the girl in front of me no longer looks like her soul is breaking.

  “Tell me about Kelly Anne,” I say. “Not just about what a cow she is, but about why you ever liked her in the first place.”

  “You really want to know?”

  I nod. “I really want to know. It was part of you, Laine. I want to understand why. Maybe that way we can stop it ever happening again.”

  “It won’t happen again anyway. I’m done with her.”

  I believe her. Her eyes are full of the pain of betrayal.

  I know it’s a tough pill to swallow.

  She takes a moment, spinning the empty tumbler on the table as she clears her head.

  I understand that well enough, because I’m still clearing mine too.

  “I didn’t have anyone,” she says. “I was shy when I started school. I’d never done nursery, or been around other kids before. It was always just me and Mum, and I was scared all the time, worried that she wasn’t coming back.” She smiles sadly. “Mainly because she didn’t come back sometimes. Men, or work, or whatever. She’d leave me with the neighbour. An old woman who smelled of cheese.”

  “Cheese?”

  “Green cheese.” She wrinkles her nose. “She was nice enough but she really stunk.”

  “And Kelly Anne was there?”

  She nods. “Kelly Anne was a bossy boots. I felt so safe with her, because she wasn’t scared of anything.”

  “And she was nice to you?”

  She shrugs. “Most of the time. I’d follow her around even when she was bored of me. She’d play with other kids, and I’d just watch. Waiting until they argued, because she’d argue with people a lot, and make sure I was there to pick up the pieces. I made sure I was useful, just so she’d keep me around.”

  “That’s not friendship, Laine. Not really.”

  “I know that now,” she says. “But I never wanted to see it that way before. I never wanted to look at it. It’s impossible to carry on doing what you’ve always done if you realise it’s full of bullshit and lies.”

  “I get that,” I say. “You wanted it to be real.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I guess I did.” She spins the glass. “Kelly Anne was always so selfish. She was only really interested in what she wanted. Where she wanted to go or what she wanted to play or who she wanted to fuck. I was just an accessory, like a handbag. She’d tell me stories and make them sound so amazing. I guess she felt so cool knowing I was so not.”

  “Cool means shit, sweetheart.”

  “I think I know that now, too.” She smiles a sad smile at me. “The more cooler she seemed, the older she seemed. The more childish I felt, the safer I felt. Same with Mum. Only Mum really couldn’t take care of herself, not around work and all her men trouble. So I had to be a mum to Mum. A mum to her and a silly little sad friend to Kelly Anne, and somewhere it all got messed up.”

  “Life can get all messed up, Laine. But we can straighten it out again.�
��

  A tear rolls down her cheek. “I hope so. Because I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I didn’t know what it would feel like to have someone who really loved me. I didn’t know how safe I’d feel with someone who could take care of me.”

  “I feel safe too,” I admit. “I feel safe when I believe I have control over a situation. Over you. But I don’t. I don’t have control over you, Laine, and that’s alright. I shouldn’t ever have control over who you are, or what you want to do. I can support you, I can care for you, but not control you.”

  She doesn’t look convinced, but I am.

  Love has to be free. Alive like a butterfly, not pinned to a mount like the specimens I’ve been keeping for so long.

  Jane’s room was the perfect bell jar. Preserved so perfectly, just waiting for me to fill it with another little girl to replace the one I lost.

  A second chance at the same dream.

  Only no two dreams can ever be the same.

  “I love you,” she says. “I really love you. Not because of what you do for me, but because you’re honest and caring and see everything I want to see in myself.”

  “I love you too, Laine. Not because you’re my little girl, or because we share some weird kink that nobody else understands. I love you because you have a beautiful soul.”

  She smiles so brightly. “I don’t need Kelly Anne anymore.”

  I reach for her hand across the table and squeeze. “Jane’s gone,” I tell her. “Louisa, too. And I’m ready to let them rest now, Laine. We’re different.”

  “We’re us,” she says. “I want to be us.”

  “So do I, sweetheart.”

  Her fingers look so small in mine. “So, what now?”

  “We go to bed,” I tell her. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

  She nods. “I’d like that very much.”

  Laine

  I feel like I’ve cried for a lifetime as I wash my face in the bathroom. My cheeks are puffy and my eyes are tired.

  But I feel good. Like I’ve dumped a horrible weight.

  I guess Kelly Anne’s been nothing but a drain on me for longer than I can remember.

  I wonder how different life would have been if I’d have stopped clinging onto her all those years ago. I wonder if I’d have made other friends, lived another life.

  I wonder if I’d have grown up.

  I feel like I’m growing up now.

  And that’s weird. It seems so silly that being cared for as a child was what turned me into a woman.

  I smile to myself and Nick smiles back.

  “What a day,” he says.

  “I’m pooped,” I tell him, and he nods.

  “Me too.”

  I hold his hand as he steps onto the landing, waiting for him to open Jane’s door like he always does. But not today.

  He steps on past, and my heart pounds as he opens a different door. The one to his room.

  I’ve barely ever been in there.

  He flicks on the bedside light and pulls back the covers for me.

  “This is my bed,” he tells me, like it needs explaining. “I’ll clear out some wardrobe space for you in the morning.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  It feels so weird to slip into his grown up sheets. They’re grey. So stylish and grown up.

  And soft.

  They’re soft, too.

  He pulls me close and kisses my hair, and I know he’ll never be Daddy Nick in this place. It just doesn’t fit.

  And that feels okay.

  It feels just fine.

  “Goodnight, Laine,” he says and the words roll off my tongue so easily.

  “Goodnight, Nick.”

  He squeezes me a little bit tighter, and I know we’re going to be just fine.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Laine

  It’s strange to wake in such a big bed, but there’s so much more room for stretching out in. I kick out my legs and enjoy the space, and Nick is right beside me with a quiet smile on his face.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Morning, Nick.”

  Nick.

  It’s going to take some getting used to. How funny, how things change. We’ve been on a rollercoaster, him and I. It climbed so high so fast, and then it tumbled, so scary as the train sped over the drop. But we’re still on the rails, and somehow I think we’ll be climbing even higher this time.

  It’s late, I can tell by the light at the window. I take in the surroundings, and it’s nice in here, in his space. I like it.

  I look at the bedside cabinet on my side and wonder what I’ll fill it with. I wonder which wardrobe I’ll hang my clothes in, and if it would be appropriate to bring Mr Ted in here too.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  I shake my head, and I’m not today. I’m really not.

  I stroke his face, my thumb brushing over his shadowy stubble, and I want him so much it makes my toes curl.

  “I know that expression,” he tells me, and kisses my fingers.

  And I know his.

  I’m coming to know everything. Every one of his smiles.

  And his frowns. I’ve seen a few of those now too.

  He kisses me and his lips are soft and warm. His tongue is gentle today, tasting me so slowly. I breathe into him and tangle my fingers in his hair, my legs reaching for his, my knee hooking under and guiding him close.

  It feels so natural, the way he moves, positioning himself above me with his weight on his elbows. I hook my ankles around his calves, and my body knows how this works now. It knows how to tip my hips just right and how to shift myself underneath him.

  He’s so hard, rubbing himself just right, the length of him pressed just where I need him.

  But I don’t want it like this today. I want it to be different. New.

  I smile as I push my hand to his chest, loving the way his eyes show such surprise as I wriggle out from under him and urge him to move.

  Nick looks so different on his back, his cock so proud as I work it in my fingers.

  I suck him, and he groans. He raises his arms and rests them behind his head, and his legs part so willingly.

  He’s mine.

  And today this is my show, my way.

  It feels amazing to be in control.

  Kelly Anne was wrong about sex, just like she was wrong about so many things I took her word on.

  To be sexy doesn’t mean you have to wear a short skirt and bright red lipstick. It doesn’t mean you have to do a striptease or put on some epic performance.

  It just means being confident. Being yourself.

  Being sexy means being me.

  And today I want to be me. I’m good enough for Nick to love me, and that makes me good enough for me too.

  I’ve never been on top before. It feels so alien to straddle him, but I like it.

  I play with my clit and he watches without moving. His eyes are dark, but not fierce, even though he lets out the same low groan as I position his cock and lower myself onto him.

  I move just as I want to, my hips circling and my little tits bouncing just as much as they can bounce, and the pressure inside builds so easily this way.

  It feels amazing.

  Everything feels amazing.

  “Beautiful,” he says, and I feel it. I do feel beautiful, so exposed and on display.

  I lean forward, and kiss him, and the angle is just right. It must be right for him too, because his breath is fast and ragged, and his hips thrust right back at me.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, Laine, that feels incredible.”

  I know it does. It feels perfect. Perfect enough that my movements are frantic and my thighs are tense.

  I’m going to come, and I know that, but it’s different. This feels different.

  Bigger and deeper and…

  And fuck.

  Fuck.

  Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I don’t know if I’ve said it aloud and I don’t care. My senses are fried, my ner
ves sparking like crazy, and my whole fucking body shudders.

  And then he comes too.

  And I feel it. I feel it so well in this position.

  I did it.

  I did it all and I’m so proud.

  He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight, and I giggle. I can’t stop giggling.

  He holds me until I’m quiet, and then he brushes the hair from my forehead, stares at me with eyes that let me know he enjoyed it as much as I did.

  “You must be hungry now,” he says.

  Nick

  I absolutely refuse to express an opinion until Laine has whittled her dress choice down to three. I want it to be her decision, exactly the dress she wants.

  She’s surprised me, but that in itself isn’t surprising. She’s always surprising me.

  Her three choices are so grown up. Tasteful gowns in dark colours, rich navy or mulled wine.

  I can hardly contain myself as she slips into the dressing room to try them on, and when she steps out in the blue dress I lose the power of speech.

  She really does take my breath away.

  “I like it,” she tells me. “I like it a lot.” She smiles. “In fact, I think I love it.”

  She does a twirl and the fabric swishes. It’s highlighted with diamante, tiny little stones that look like stars on a night sky.

  “I think I love it, too,” I tell her. “Very much.” I sigh. “You look gorgeous, Laine.”

  “This is the dress,” she says. “I just know it.”

  She turns around for my help with the zip, and it’s so nice to brush my fingers down her spine.

  “Then we’d better go pay for it,” I say.

  I’ve never been so proud as I am to have my beautiful Laine on my arm at the Christmas party.

  Her eyes are still bright and shining with innocent wonder, but my little girl isn’t a little girl, not with her makeup on.

  She’s most certainly a young woman this evening.

  Michael French hands her a glass of champagne, and nudges me to convey his approval.

  “I’ve heard so much,” he tells her. “All good, of course.”

  “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she says, and she means it, I can tell.

  “This is my wife, Barbara, and my daughter Caroline.” I smile as warmly as she does, and it thrills me as Caroline strikes up conversation.