Beach Daddies: A Sweet and Dirty Texas Love Novella

by Shanna Handel

  Rousing from his sleep, Ray threw his arm over me, murmuring, “You okay, Jess?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I mumbled grumpily, lifting his heavy arm from me and moving it over. These dreams left me feeling frustrated and confused. Was there something wrong with me?

  Ray smiled. “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” he asked.

  “No, I just… had this weird dream. For the second time in a row.” I rubbed at my brow.

  Sitting up, Ray turned towards me. “Tell me about it, honey.”

  “I can’t Ray. It’s too… weird. And embarrassing.” I didn’t add that the dream had left me completely aroused—with damp panties.

  Smoothing my hair, Ray said softly, “Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me anything.”

  I sat, grumping on my side of the bed. Not talking about the dream was just going to leave me in a bad mood. Telling my husband about the fantasy my brain had created would be humiliating. Sitting and sighing and deciding, I finally opted for total embarrassment.

  “It’s just…Carrie and I were talking about age play on the beach the other day, you know, where the man is like the daddy and the woman is the little girl?”

  Ray gave a nod. “I’ve heard of it.”

  The flush I felt in my face almost stopped me from continuing. “Well, after we had that conversation, I fell asleep on the beach. I dreamt that you were not my daddy husband, but like my daddy father and found out I had cheated on a test. I was all dressed up in a school girl outfit and everything. And you said as long as I was living under your roof, you would be spanking me. Then, you flipped up that little red pleated skirt and spanked me.”

  “How did the dream make you feel?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

  Shrugging, I said, “I don’t know.”

  “Turned on? Confused?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “And the dream you had last night, was it similar?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. But this time you caught me smoking.” Talking about the dream had the opposite effect I would have thought it would have. I began to relax.

  “Well, if I ever caught you smoking, I most certainly would be spanking you,” Ray said with a grin.

  I laughed. “I know—dreams are crazy. I mean, cheating on a test? Smoking cigarettes? What’s that all about?”

  “But the part that really got to you was me being your daddy?” he said with a grin.

  “Yeah—that too, I guess,” I admitted

  “Do you want to experiment with role play sometime? Maybe explore your dream?” Ray asked.

  I thought about it. Something about those dreams was delicious, but I would not want to act them out in real life. I answered, “No. I don’t think I would.” Grabbing Ray’s hand, I said, “I like things the way they are between us.”

  He moved closer to me, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Dreams are just that, Jessica, dreams. You can’t help what you dream, and even if you can, it’s just your imagination. Let it go. Chalk it up to fantasy. And if you ever do want to experiment, you know to come to me.”

  “Thanks, baby. You’re the best.” I leaned over, kissing him. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

  We got dressed and headed down to the pool with Wes and Carrie. Ray made breakfast sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and mimosas in thermoses to bring down to the pool with us.

  Breakfasting by the pool, we laughed and chatted, leisurely beginning our day.

  “This is the life,” Carrie said, lying back on her lounge chair, pink heart glasses covering her face.

  “You’re not kidding,” I said, stretching out on the chair beside her. “I don’t think I’ve lifted a finger since I got here, except for washing a few dishes.”

  “You certainly lucked out in the cooking department. Ray makes the best food. And he respects my delicate palate,” Carrie said.

  “You mean he caters to your pickiness,” I laughed.

  “Cannonball!” Ray shouted, jumping over the edge of the pool and wrapping his arms around his knees. He plummeted through the surface of the water, creating a huge wave that rose up.

  Carrie and I screamed as the water lifted up and out of the pool, splashing us. Ray popped up out of the water, laughing a belly laugh. “You two might as well get in, now,” he said, splashing more water on us with his hands.

  Wes joined Ray in the pool, opting for a cannonball of his own. We screamed again as a second round of water soaked us.

  “That’s it!” Carrie called. Jumping up from her chair, she ran towards the pool, balling up and splashing through the water right in front of the guys. “Come on, Jess. Show them how it’s done!”

  I rose from my chair and walked over to the pool. Pinching my nose between my finger and my thumb, I stepped straight into the pool, doing what my kids called a pencil dive.

  One thing led to another and soon, Carrie was up on Wes’ shoulders, and I was on Ray’s. I hadn’t done a chicken fight since high school, but why not now? Carrie and I locked arms. She was small, but she was strong. Ray and I had a height advantage and after a few minutes of struggle, I was able to pull Carrie off Wes’ shoulders and throw her into the pool. “Woo-hoo!” I yelled. “We are the champions!” While I was busy gloating and pumping my arms in the air, I didn’t notice Carrie sneaking behind me. A moment later, her hands were around my waist tugging at me and I was falling into the water.

  Splashing and drinking and dunking and swimming was how we spent the next few hours. Totally forgetting we were adults and instead, having a teenaged pool party. Carrie was right—this was the life.

  Chapter 4

  Buttercup

  Jake Hargett looked damn good driving a truck. Tanned skin, brown hair tousled by the wind from the open window. One hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on my thigh. Every so often he would turn to me and smile.

  Swoon.

  They say the first year of marriage is the hardest. But that hasn’t been the case with us. It’s just been wedded bliss. Sure, there have been a few tiny bumps in the road, but overall it’s been more than I could have hoped for.

  And to top it off, Jake and I planned a little mini, second honeymoon. The drive from Texas to Outer Banks was about twenty-five hours total. You would think I would get sick of being in a car with my man, but we still have so much to talk about, laugh about. Stories we haven’t yet told one another.

  And our remodeling business—excuse the cheesy pun—has been through the roof. Jake does all the manual labor or hires and oversees crews to do it. I do all the scheduling and the accounting. I was working full time at another job, but with the business booming, I had quit, becoming Jake’s right-hand woman, as he referred to me, and business partner.

  We decided to make this trip our summer vacation and take two full weeks off from the business. Drive across half the country, making stops along the way. Then, stay at a cute little villa on Topsail beach for a couple nights—just the two of us. We would join Carrie and Jess and their daddies for two nights, then begin the long drive back home with some additional sightseeing.

  I never could quite wrap my mind around the whole ‘Daddy’ thing. I mean, I know my husband spanks me. I get that the set up seems strange and twisted from the outside. And I hate being judged myself, but some part of me holds a little judgement towards Carrie and Jess for calling their husbands, Daddy.

  It’s weird, right?

  At least that’s my initial reaction. But… then I watch Wes grab Carrie’s upper arm, I overhear him whispering in her ear, watch your tone, little girl. The pretty pink blush rises in her cheeks, and she whispers those two little words.

  Yes, Daddy.

  And warmth spreads through me. And if I’m being completely honest, I get soaking wet.

  But I could never in a million years call Jake, Daddy. No way. Uh-uh.

  I sneak a peek at him, driving beside me. Those hands. Big and strong. His broad shoulders, rounding in his button-down shirt.

  Maybe Jake
could be a Daddy.

  He had all the character traits of a Daddy Dom. Bossy—check. Spoiler of his girl—check. A spanking man—double check.

  But could I say that word?

  Heck—my name was Buttercup! My mother loved this old movie called the Princess Bride, and the princess was named—you guessed it—Buttercup. Jake called me all kinds of silly butter nicknames. Was saying the word, Daddy, that crazy of an idea?

  One time, when Jake and I were very first dating, I had gotten myself into a bit of trouble. Okay, a whole lot of trouble as you can read in Texas Daddy. Sitting in the local sheriff’s office, Jake had said something that I had not been able to forget.

  I’m sorry you missed out on having a daddy growing up. But I am more than happy to fulfill the role, now.

  The way his eyes had locked on mine, his tone low and firm, the way his jaw set after he said it. I gave a shiver, just thinking about it.

  Catching my little shiver, Jake said, “You okay Butter baby? Want me to turn down the A/C?”

  I smiled. “No. I’m fine. Just got a chill for a second. Someone must have walked over my grave,” I joked.

  “Then they walked over mine, too. Because we are being buried right next to one another.” He laughed, as he gave my ponytail a tug. “Speaking of death, how much sunscreen did you pack? We don’t want to burn that beautiful porcelain skin of yours.”

  With my long auburn hair and pale skin, I looked the part of Bella in the Twilight series. But I loved the sun. It just didn’t love me. “It’s not fair, is it? You tanned skin people get to fully enjoy your time on the beach while we ghosts have to constantly reapply sunscreen, wear long sleeves in hundred-degree weather, or don a huge, floppy, grandma hat.”

  He laughed. “I have no problem helping you apply your sunscreen. I’ll even throw in a free massage.” His brows wiggled up and down, a grin spreading over his face.

  “Thanks.” My mind went to the sun and the sand, Jake shirtless, waves splashing around his bare, muscular chest. His hands massaging sunscreen into my skin. Like a daddy would. I couldn’t help the flush that rose in my cheeks.

  Turning my face towards the window, I tried to hide the blush from Jake, but like everything else, he caught it.

  “What’s up, Buttercup?” he asked, placing his hand on my upper thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “Nothing,” I murmured, pretending to be infatuated with the dull, monotonous landscape we were driving through.

  “You can’t get anything past me. Why is your face that pretty pink if nothing is on your mind?”

  I gave a sigh. It was too embarrassing to say, but did I have another choice? “I… I was just thinking about how Carrie and Jessica call Wes and Ray, Daddy, sometimes. Do you think that’s… weird?”

  Jake’s gaze stayed on the road, his hand still resting on my thigh. After a moment, he gave a shrug. “Not really.” He turned to me with a smile, flipping his hand over and reaching for mine. “Do you?”

  Did I? Sometimes it made me shiver a bit to hear it, but if I was being honest, more often than not, it made my pussy clench and my panties dampen. I snuck a glance at Jake. He looked cool as a cucumber, as if we were making a grocery list, not discussing taboo topics.

  What would he think if I said, no, in fact, I want to call you Daddy sometimes? The memory of that moment in the sheriff’s office floated through my mind.

  I’m sorry you missed out on having a daddy growing up. But I am more than happy to fulfill the role, now.

  Was honesty the best policy? I was about to find out. “Actually, Jake, I—”

  “Hold on!” Jake threw his arm over my chest, cutting the wheel hard to the right. The wheel of the truck went off road, gripping the rocky soil. I sat up looking over the windshield. A lazy looking armadillo wandered across the road. Jake righted the truck, smiling at me. “Whew, that was a close one! We almost nailed that little guy.”

  I took the opportunity to change the subject, deciding I wasn’t quite ready to cross the daddy bridge.

  “I heard they have wild ponies on the island we are staying on. When we are four-wheeling out to the house, we’ll have to keep an eye out for them.”

  “And I’ll have to keep an eye out for you, little lady. If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ll be trying to make pets out of those guys.”

  “I just want to pet one. Just one.” I imagined those soft little horses, their gentle noses nuzzling my hand.

  “You aren’t supposed to touch them, Buttercup. They are wild. You could get hurt,” he said, his words very much coming across in a Daddy tone.

  I didn’t respond. Jake would change his mind when we got to the island and he saw how docile the horses were in person. I was sure of it. And maybe, just maybe, I would call him Daddy.

  Buttercup

  Driving across the country wasn’t quite what I had expected. After about ten hours of driving, you realize one small town in America is not much different from the rest. Also, after viewing the world’s largest frying pan, biggest ball of yarn, and a watermelon made entirely out of Legos, I was ready to hit the beach.

  When the coastal plains finally stretched out as far as they would go, the land became marshy. A shiver ran through me as the truck rose high over an enormous bridge, built over the swampy land below. I breathed a sigh of relief when we arrived safely on the other side.

  Ahead of us, beyond the black pavement of the road, I saw the tiniest glimpse of the ocean. I was enthralled. The blue greens with white capped waves took my breath away. Jake gave me a smile, clearly enjoying my delight with the ocean.

  He turned the truck left, and we drove down the road, my head completely turned to the right, unable to take my eyes from the waves. After about a mile of driving, we pulled up to a cute, little, seaside villa. We would spend two nights alone here, then head down the coast to the Outer Banks, to stay with the others for two nights. Then begin the long drive back to Texas; but I wasn’t ready to think about that again. I was ready for beach life.

  Hopping down from the truck, I stretched my arms and legs. It felt so good to have my feet on the ground again. I was beginning to think I wasn’t that into road trips after all.

  Jake grabbed our bags from the back, leading me to the door of the motel, which he managed to also open. We checked in, grabbing the keys to room number 69. Which made me giggle a little. This was an impromptu second honeymoon, what a perfect number.

  The room was clean and cute, with a queen bed taking up most of it. Huge sliding doors opened to a small deck and trail—leading right down to the ocean. Before Jake could even put the bags down, I kicked off my shoes. I was out the door, running barefoot down to the sand.

  There was something so healing about the ocean. I skipped through the surf, kicking up water and laughing as the ocean spray cooled my legs. Jake stood on our deck, hands on his hips, watching me with a smile on his face.

  “Don’t get your clothes wet, Buttercup. Or Daddy’s going to have to spank you.” My jaw dropped. Had I heard him correctly? With a wink he left me, heading into the room.

  Whoa, he said… it.

  Daddy. Just hearing my husband say the word had my pussy throbbing and my nipples tightening in my bra. He was probably just teasing me after our conversation in the truck—the one that was interrupted by that cute little armadillo—or was he?

  I looked down at my shorts. They weren’t wet… yet.

  Without giving it another thought, I ran straight into the ocean and dove into an oncoming wave. Laughing, I burst to the surface, my ponytail dripping, my soaked shorts and t-shirt clinging to my skin.

  I left the ocean and headed up to our room. Let’s see what Daddy had to say about this.

  Standing on the porch dripping wet, I knocked on the glass door. Jake came and opened it up.

  I couldn’t help the mischievous grin that crossed my face as his eyes widened.

  “I thought I said not to get your clothes wet,” he said with a slow smile.
<
br />   Sticking out my breasts, the wet t-shirt clinging to me, my nipples hard and visible through my bra and shirt, I pouted, then said, “Oops.”

  A fire lit in Jake’s eyes. His smile smoldered as his gaze took in the sight of my body in the, now, skin-tight clothing.

  “Naughty, naughty, little girl. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. Lift your arms.”

  He reached through the door frame, lifting my shirt from the bottom hem. I lifted my arms in the air and he tugged it off over my head. He threw it onto the deck. God, I hoped we didn’t have any nosy neighbors.

  Reaching behind my back, he quickly undid my bra clasp, throwing the black bra to the ground as well. He took my hand, leading me over the threshold. The shorts were the next thing to come off.

  He slid the door shut. I stood shivering, wearing only my panties. Jake went to the bathroom, returning with a towel. He wrapped me up tightly, his arms remaining around me.

  I tilted my chin up and his lips met mine in a deep kiss. Shivers ran down my spine, a combination of the chill and the kiss.

  Jake murmured into my ear, “Daddy told you he was going to spank you if you got your clothes wet. Didn’t he?”

  “Uh-huh,” I whispered, my pussy clenching, my nipples rock hard against the terry cloth towel.

  He nibbled at my neck. “Say, yes Daddy.”

  I froze. Could I say it? His hand went to my ass, squeezing it… hard.

  “Y—yes… Daddy,” I managed to whisper. My pussy was like a flood, my entire body melting against his body.

  “Good girl,” he murmured. “Daddy’s good girl.”

  Swoon.

  Buttercup

  Why take a girl to an island with wild ponies if you aren’t going to let her touch them? I mean—what’s the sense in that?

  Jake knows how much I love horses. We took our nephews riding on Wes’ ranch every single Saturday. By sundown, Jake would have to drag me out of the barn, me wanting to brush the horses ‘just one more minute’. The only reason I didn’t own a horse of my own was that our yard in town couldn’t fit one—that and the fact that Jake wouldn’t buy me a horse.