"Turn up the heat to 77,"I announce as soon as I put Elodie's feet down inside the front door.
“Yes, Mr. McAllister.” The male system voice answers through speakers located throughout the whole house.
"Why do you want the heat up?" She tugs the blanket tighter around herself her eyes dancing around the foyer.
"Because I don't want you tugging that blanket around all day and all night. One of the great joys of a daddy is watching his girl walk around in whatever he wants her in. Which for me tonight is going to be almost nothing."
She gives a little snort and a laugh. "Your place looks different. I haven't been here in a year." She screws up her face. "Maybe two. It's all new. I remember over there" — she points to the corner of the living room — "there was nothing. You had like two chairs. Now it's full. There's art. I really like it, Uncle Rye."
It took me years to decorate this place. For a long time, I didn't care — I had a bed in my room, monitors in my office, a desk chair that fit me. That was all I needed. I ordered food. I have a cleaning staff, a groundskeeper. This house was merely a place to shower, shit, and shave. Work half the night, sleep four hours, get back up, do it again, feel guilty for beating off. The last year, since she turned eighteen — twenty times a fucking day thinking about her.
"Well, baby." I grip her cheeks in my palms until her eyes come up to mine. "In some ways I'm a slow turn. But I'll tell you something. It was always a house. But the second I put your feet down inside with my cum inside you, after you called me daddy — it's a home. It's never felt more right than it does right now."
"See, there you go again. Being all sweet."
"That's the thing about daddies. We're multi-dimensional men." I guide her by the hand into the living room, tugging the blanket off her and setting it on the leather sofa so she doesn't feel a chill. I make a mental note to reorder all my furniture in fabric. I don't want her naked body sticking to leather. There's nothing more annoying than trying to stand up and having your skin peel off the cushion. I want her comfortable — until it's me that makes her uncomfortable.
"Well. One of my dreams is this audition coming up."
"I know, baby. We're going to get you there. I'm going to be there. I'm going to play the good dad. And if that's what your dream is, I'm going to help make it come true."
"I am a little sore."
Shame, anger, and frustration clamp around my throat. "I know, baby. I should have thought that through better. That's on me. But from now until that audition it's all about making sure your body's healed, strong, and ready to go."
A small look of disappointment crosses her face. "Does that mean we're not going to—" A yawn swallows the end of the sentence. She can't finish, but I know exactly what she's asking.
"Baby, there's going to be plenty of time for more of that."
I pull her into my lap. Nothing's felt better than having her like this. Well — that's not entirely true. Tearing that cherry out from her sweet little cunt felt pretty fucking good. But this does as well.
"Come here, baby. Look." I tug my phone from the inside pocket of my jacket and pull up my personal shopper. "We need to make a list of everything you're going to need here. At least to get us through the next couple of days. And then we're going to do some proper shopping. Because this is your home now. You're going to pick out all the new furniture."
"New furniture?" A little laugh puffs out of her swollen lips. "You just said this is all new furniture." She shrugs, turning her hands up.
"It is new. But it's not yours. It doesn't look like something you'd pick out."
She sighs, another yawn taking her. She needs sleep. A lot of this is going to have to wait until tomorrow.
"Alright, look." I hold up the phone. "They'll get you whatever you want and it'll be at the door within a couple hours."
"Rye, it's almost the middle of the night. How are they going to shop?"
"Don't worry about that. I have connections." I pause. "Your only job is to tell me what kind of shampoo you want, what snacks — although I might have to weigh in on that, because I already know you're going to pick celery and whatever those things are you drink."
"They're protein shakes," she giggles. "Low calorie."
"We're going to be talking about all that too. But for now, let's get you what you need." I put the phone in her hand. "Tap it. Check off whatever you need."
I'm shocked at how much I love watching her start tapping the little checkboxes next to the luxury items. Her eyes flick up to mine. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. And if you don't pick out enough things, I'm going to click them all. And then there's going to be a moving van backing up here in about two hours, and the whole house is going to be full of things you didn't want. So where are we going to be?"
"Okay, okay." She giggles against me, tugging her knees to her chest. She finishes her selections — shampoo, soap, some little juice drinks. I can't wait to unpack it all with her. But right now, I can see the exhaustion in her eyes.
"Alright, baby. Come on." I tuck her back against my chest, leaving my phone in her hands.
"Don't you want your phone back? What if someone calls?"
