“Hey,” he says, halting our movements and motioning to my face in a circular motion. “What’s this about?” He’s too fucking observant for his own good.
“I’m worried you won’t like it,” I admit. “I’ve never been able to make it for anyone and I’m nervous.”
He reaches a hand up and cups my cheek causing me to instinctively lean into his touch. A warmth flows through me. “I’m going to love it, I’m sure. If for no other reason than you made it for me.”
“Excuse me, but we’re making it together.”
“Yes, I know, but it doesn’t change anything. I know I’ll love it.” Then he gifts me with a soft kiss.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re finally in the checkout line and I’m pretty sure he hates this part the most, based on the pained look on his face. I spare him the job of putting everything on the belt and add a bag of gummy bears for good measure.
He shoots me a questioning look.
“What? They’re little teddy bear shaped morsels of deliciousness. And we need movie candy.” And then I toss a box of Whoppers onto the belt with a sly smile and a shoulder shrug.
The cashier rings each item up, placing them in bags one by one until she gets to the candy. She rings them up, shoots me a wink, then looks Ryker straight in the eye before asking him, “Do you want me to bag these or give them to your daughter?”
I want to fall over laughing, because I’m sure she doesn’tactuallythink I’m his daughter, but I’m sure as fuck going toplay along. “Yeah, Daddy. Can I have them now, please?” I bat my eyelashes for effect. I love being good for him, and I almost always am… but this fills me with a different kind of joy.
The look he shoots me, along with the slight pink in his face, tells me I’m going to pay for this little exchange. Although, I don’t think it has the intended effect, because I can’t find it in me to care. I should be nervous, because he’s not gentle with his punishments, but my vagina has other ideas. She likes everything he does to her. Literally. Everything.
I’m pleasantly surprised when he plays along. “Sure, you can give them to her, but she knows she can’t open them unless she’s a good girl later.” He pats my shoulder, confirming my suspicion that a punishment is coming my way and I can’t stop the blush that creeps up my neck at the thought. Touché Daddy… touché.
Ryker
By the time we get home, my urge to dish out her punishment for that little act at the grocery store is simmering just beneath the surface.
Am I really upset about it? No.
Only a dickhead would actually be pissed about that. It was hard to keep my amusement under wraps, but I managed to maintain my self-appointed role of stern daddy. I used to prefer my subs calling me Sir, almost exclusively, but hearing her call me Daddy is something I’m beginning to get used to.
I don’tactuallyplan on punishing her, but she doesn’t need to know that. We’ll call it afunishment. It’ll definitely be fun for me, and I’ll eventually make sure she enjoys herself too.
I watch her flit around the kitchen and imagine a future with her just like this, except there’s more. Children. They’re runningcircles around her, pulling at the hem of her shirt with their little hands, to get her attention. My heart skips a few beats, leaving a yearning in their place that I’m not familiar with.
“Do you want kids?” I can’t believe I just asked her that.
She pauses before turning slowly toward me, her hands covered in flour as she breads chicken in crushed Doritos. Her eyes slow blink a few times before she responds. “I–uh–I don’t know. Maybe? I think I always assumed it was never in the cards for me. I wasn’t raised in a loving family, so it’s hard to imagine bringing a child into this world not knowing if I can give them what I never had.” She turns back to the counter. “Doyouwant kids?”
This woman puts everyone's needs before her own, including mine, without hesitation and never asks for anything in return. If that’s not a basic requirement for motherhood, I don’t know what is. Not that I want her to ignore her own wants and needs, but it breaks my heart that she doesn’t know she’d be a better mother than Christine, by a thousand miles.
“I used to think I didn’t.” I want to elaborate, but I also don’t want to make her feel like this is anything more than a conversation. Isn’t it more, though?
She sucks in a breath and I know she’s reading between the lines, but instead of pushing her on this, I change the subject, deciding it’s not the time to talk about my intrusive thoughts. I’m determined to make tonight fun and lighthearted for her. She needs more of it in her life.
“How long does the chicken need to cook?” I ask as I watch her bend over, ass in the air, to slide it into the oven.
“About twenty minutes or so. The potatoes are cooking and the green beans won’t take long,” she explains. I was supposed to help her, but I ended up watching her work and I enjoyed the view.
“Good. That gives us plenty of time for your punishment.” I crook my finger, beckoning her to me. Her brows raise but she obeys, slowly walking towards me.
The living and kitchen area are both open to each other, so I walk her around the island and pause at the border of the living space, then point to the ground at my feet.
“Kneel.”
She drops gracefully to her knees and I’m sure I hear a small moan escape her lips. I walk to the chair across the room and sit, parting my legs for her.
She’s already fidgeting while she waits for instruction.
