Pops scoffed, grabbing a handful of spoons and forks before heading back out into the dining area again. “He’s such a grouch,” his father told Stace, leaving Brock shaking his head and flipping sandwiches.
“How do you put up with him?” Stace replied with a touch of humor. It was the first time he’d heard her sounding anywhere close to cheerful and it actually made Brock pause in the midst of adjusting the stove temperature to listen.
“God only knows,” Pops scoffed, and they both giggled. Or at least Stace did. His father’s laugh was just as wheezing and voiceless as ever, a rasp of coughing sounds that offset the lightness of her voice. He quickly adjusted himself, the unwelcome stirring in his rising cock the last thing he needed right now. She was his neighbor, not his girlfriend. He was trying to help her; the last thing either one of them needed was for him to get a stiffy every time she laughed.
He couldn’t believe he’d spanked her. The franticness of her voice as he’d pulled her over his lap, had been a reviving gasp of life for his inner Daddy Dom. He might not have liked the reason for it, but he’d enjoyed paddling her bottom until she was sobbing and apologizing, and he’d really enjoyed feeling the furious heat of his discipline rising up through the weave of her pants. He’d liked how small and compact she felt as he’d caressed her afterward, rubbing and soothing away the pain he’d caused. He never should have touched her like that, but it was like spanking her in the first place. The snap of dominance thathad shot through him when he’d seen her sloppy swing of that axe narrowly missing her own leg, was every bit as instinctive as holding her afterward had been.
She’d fit in his lap, in his arms, as if she were a treasure ordered straight from a catalog and built to his specifications. She’d felt good. She’d smelled good. And for those few moments when she’d let him comfort her, he could almost see, feel, and smell himself holding her like that for the rest of his life.
He really needed to start dating.
He really needed to not burn the sandwiches either. Coming sharply back to himself, he snatched the slightly smoking pan off the stove and quickly flipped the grilled cheeses all to see how bad the damage was. Fortunately, although a little darker than he liked his sandwiches, the bread wasn’t burned. In fact, the butter had caramelized the crust, and the cheese when he cut the sandwiches in half diagonally was the perfect melty-stringy consistency.
Perfect, just like Stace.
Except, no. She really wasn’t. If only they’d met under different circumstances. If only she weren’t in desperate need of a job he couldn’t offer. If only he could offer it without fear that something might happen to Pops if he left him with her. She just wasn’t suited.
But he wished she was.
***
The morning dawned as bright as only the winter sun on last night’s snow could. She drowsed, aware of the light although everything else felt like a dream. She was warm, toasty warm for the first time since she’d come to Myrtle Creek. The bed was softer than the one she’d left behind. Her dreams were all about caramel and apples, and hot pies resting on the windowsill whileshe rested much less comfortably, perched on an equally hot bottom on Brock’s lap.
“Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?” he’d asked, one hand resting on the side of her hip, while with his other, his thumb brushed lightly back and forth across her right nipple, teasing it until it puckered for him, begging for more of his caresses.
Her face flushed every bit as warm as the throb pulsing so wantonly between her clenching thighs. She squirmed as he teased her, unable to loosen her too-tight throat enough to answer that embarrassing question.
“Naughty girls need to answer Daddy when he asks them a question,” Brock warned. “If I have to take off my belt again, it’ll be your naughty bare bottom that I spank with it. Do you really want that? Because I promise, without your pants to help protect you, Daddy’s belt will hurt a lot more.”
Her tummy tightened as much as her throat. She tried to shake her head no, but helplessly nodded instead.
“Daddy’s good little girl.”
She hadn’t moved and yet, just that fast she was sitting in his lap with her pants and panties around her ankles and her naked bottom perched upon his thigh. His warm breath brushed the shell of her ear, sending prickling need dancing through her skin. Her pussy flooded. She could feel the molten liquid gush and her embarrassment grew, knowing any minute he’d be able to feel her lust soaking into his jeans.
“Say it, Stace baby,” he cooed. “Tell Daddy how much you need him to take you in hand.”
She shivered, her breasts growing heavy, her nipples tightening hard as diamonds. She ached, not just in her breasts, but in her core. Deep inside her in a way no one had ever touched before. Not even Jim.
“Daddy...” she whispered, liking how the word tasted when she said it to him. Liking the poignant hunger that lit the dark of his eyes as his fingers trailed from her nipple to her chin, pinching it lightly as he tipped her mouth up to meet his.
Her tummy flipped wildly, her heart racing as the warmth of his lips possessed hers. Flicks of his tongue teased her to open, and his gentle kiss turned consuming. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, feeling the strength with which he was so careful as he rolled her over onto her back.
No longer sitting on his lap, she lay in the softness of her bed, beneath him as he slid his hands under her to catch her ass and squeeze, making the tantalizing ache in her flesh pang. She arched into his kiss, her sigh devoured from her lips as he consumed her. Her clit throbbing along in time with the age-old ache of wanting that only got worse as he kissed his way down the length of her squirming body, until the heat of his next exhale burned into the folds of her exposed pussy.
She moaned, but already he’d scooped her legs up over his shoulders. She bit her wrist as he parted her with his tongue, but the only pain she felt was the sharp slap Brock gave her hip when he said, “No one hurts my baby girl, Stace. Not even you.”
“I’ll be good, Daddy. Please,” she pleaded. “Please... don’t stop.”
The sound of those words spoken in her actual voice startled Stace out of her drowsing dream. The room was both familiar and not, the shadows on the ghostly gray-lit walls nothing like they had been before she’d turned out the light the night before and yet, it was exactly as she’d remembered it. Her pussy ached, that slow pulse of emptiness hammering away at her insides until the need made her fingers itch to relieve it.
Beside her, Lily slumbered on, her head pillowed on Stace’s right arm, her diapered bottom up in the air while she propped on her knees. She felt like a little furnace tucked up against her,and because she was there, there was no covert way to relieve need.
As if Lily would even know what she was doing if she did wake up.
But Stace would, and that right there would be one too many people knowing what she was doing.
Sliding out from under Lily, Stace carefully climbed off the bed. Dressed in t-shirt and panties, she went to the window, drawing the drapes back to look first at the five or so inches of snowfall they’d gotten last night, and then at the burly figure sitting on her side porch next door, sharpening her axe. He was bundled up in jeans, brown work boots and a thick brown Carhartt coat that made his already broad shoulders and chest that much broader.
