We eat at the dinner table, and I catch him staring at me, with a gentle smile on his face. Pondering.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“Nothing, sweetheart. I was just admiring you.”
“Is it because you missed me so much? Did you forget what I looked like?”
He laughs. “Hardly. My little girl is etched into my psyche. You are a treasure.”
There is something about this man that fascinates me, underneath the all-consuming games. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there like an itch I want to scratch.
The curiosity.
WhoisDaddy?
Right now, he’s the man clearing up our dinner plates, but I’m too good a girl to go without chores. I help him load the dishwasher, making myself at home, and chat to him about the fictitious college assholes. It’s so easy to be scathing of them, rolling my eyes at the thought I’d have ever wanted to consider taking their filth when I have such a perfect lovingfather.
Daddy would blow any idiot college kid out of the park with one single finger. I’m not making it up when I tell him so.
It’s great to see him glow on the back of my compliments, straightening his tie proudly while his cum pools in my soaked white panties. I hope he has at least three loads left before morning.
Patience is a virtue. I’m just not very good at it.
Jelly and ice cream make a great dessert, and this time we curl up on his sofa to eat it together. It feels like years ago that I was being fucked by the twat of an entertainer, Scott, in this very spot while he was pretending to be my forbidden college boyfriend. The thought of that prick gives me the ick as I eat my dessert, but holy shit, I get an ick of epic proportions when Daddy flicks on the TV and it lands on some random news channel. There’s a picture of Connor onscreen, and I almost barf up my ice cream, wondering how the fuck I’m going to keep the roleplay together like it’s no big deal. I only pray Daddy doesn’t expect his daughter to fancy Connor, the hot bad boy rockstar causing havoc overseas. I don’t think my acting skills would be up to it. I’d deserve an Oscar if they did.
I hold back a sigh of relief when he flicks the channel straight over.
My spoon is back in my bowl when I notice the way Daddy has stiffened up in his seat, spooning his own bowl with a smirk.
Shit.
He knows.
He knows aboutme.
Me and Connor.
For the first time as an entertainer out on a proposal, I get the shiver of being recognised.
Daddy knows who hisdaughteris. He was as quick as a whippet with that remote control. It was obvious.
I’m so grateful it hasn’t made a difference to him that I could cry with gratitude. My client knew, but he didn’t hold it against me, or freak out and opt to never see me again.
It takes every scrap of restraint I have not to laugh, on a stupid high at the irony of the situation when he switches the channel over toCake Baker.We’re going to be watching Cake Baker together, eating ice cream! Fuck my life.
At least I’m not doing it alone, in an oversized hoodie in a crappy Airbnb anymore.
I watch an episode of the stupid show with my head on his shoulder, our empty bowls on the coffee table. He holds me tight, cocooning me in his arms, safe and warm.
It doesn’t take all that much of cake decorating before I sense him stirring, getting restless. It’s a welcome sight when I see the bulge in his trousers, ready for round two.
“Will you help me get cleaned up, Daddy?” I ask him. “I love our bathtimes.”
“I was just going to suggest the same thing,” he says and switches the TV off.
I dash upstairs, giggling like a girl out to claim a prize, Daddy slapping my ass on the way.
Daddy has nothing to wash out of me but his own cum this time around. No other guy’s mess to flannel out of me while he’spunishing me with an ice-cold shower. He strips me from my uniform gently and slowly, massaging my tits once he’s taken off my bra. I step out of my panties and he tosses them to the side, admiring me as I stand there in just my white socks.
