Super Daddies: A Naughty Nerdy Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Smith, Maren

  “I saw the videos.”

  “Oh wow, you know all of it then.”

  “Yeah, we’ve had a lot of time to talk and he’s been pretty open about it. He doesn’t really like to talk much about life before that day though.”

  “I think he misses it sometimes. Going from being a scientist to a superhero is a big leap. And of course, Brian doesn’t do anything halfway. As soon as he honed his skills, he was listening to police scanners and saving the day. I’ve been worried about him, but tonight, it’s like he’s back to his old self. You make him happy, I think.”

  “Me?” I snorted, muttering, “I’ve done nothing but cause problems since I got here.”

  “The only problems you’ve caused are the kinds that remind a man that there is more to life than his lab or his job.”

  “Oh please,” I scoffed. Now it was my turn to catch myself. I reined in my behavior before I said something that caused a fight with someone I was still hoping I might befriend. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s just pick a game.” I couldn’t keep listening to her go on about Brian. I was already too close to being in love and I couldn’t entertain the idea any more. Eventually, it was only going to lead to the biggest heartache I’d ever had.

  Oh, who was I kidding? It was already way past that point.

  “Sure.” Stella relented faster than I thought she would. “But just so you know, I’m here for you if you need anything and I mean that, okay?”

  That startled me. I wasn’t sure what she thought I was supposed to need. I didn’t make a habit out of needing anything from other people. Self-reliance was so much more reliable; that was the motto I’d practically raised myself to live by. Although, admittedly, if I’d learned nothing else from my time with Brian, it was that taking care of other people—and being taken care of by them in turn—was actually kind of nice.

  “Thanks,” I told her softly, a little surprised at myself by how sincerely I meant that, too.

  She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  We started with Risk, and ended with Cards Against Humanity. We also drank too much and laughed too hard. It had been a long time since I’d done either, and it felt so good just to relax and have fun. All too soon, however, it was over. We said goodbye to Bobby and Stella and watched at the door while they went home, leaving Brian and I once more alone, in a house that was too busy searching for whatever Brian wanted to even talk to us when he closed the door and softly commanded, “Engage locks.”

  The locks clicked into place.

  “Dim lights.”

  The lights dimmed low, leaving just enough contrast for me to make out the shadows of the furniture around us.

  His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me in close, and my heart did that crazy fluttering dance that it always did when I found myself in Brian’s embrace. Without a word, he kissed the top of my head, trailed his fingers down my arm to take my hand, and then led me down the wrong hallway.

  He took me to his bedroom instead of mine, and the whole time trailing him down the hall, I kept thinking, it’s pseudo-sex time. Because that’s how I was starting to think of it. It was sex without being sex. Closeness without getting too close. I mean, he never left any part of me uncaressed. His lips would be on me, his fingers in me, but never his cock. Honestly, if it weren’t for how blatant his physical responses were to me, I’d have thought he just wasn’t that interested. But I knew he wanted me. Sometimes all it took was me walking in the room and the man got hard. I was so ready to take that next step, but short of grabbing him by the collar, shaking him and shouting, “Give me cock, Daddy!” I didn’t know how to tell him I needed more.

  I didn’t think I should be the one to tell him that. He was the Daddy, after all, shouldn’t he just know already?

  But, tonight felt different. From the moment he brought me into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, my stomach went all tingly and that low, heady pulse began to thump and throb between my legs. He left me standing at the foot of the bed, feeling suddenly shy and very small while he turned on the lamp on the bedside table, ordered the other lights off, shifted two manila file folders off the foot of his bed to the small writing desk not far from the bathroom door, and then finally took a condom packet out of his nightstand drawer and dropped it on the bedspread, right where I couldn’t help but see it.

  “Come here, angel,” he called, kicking out of his shoes and taking off his shirt.

  My knees wobbled, but walking to him felt more like walking in a dream.

  He undressed me slowly, taking the time to either kiss or caress every newly bared inch of me as he revealed them. I’d never felt more beautiful than I did right then. I never felt more wanted, not by anyone. He worshiped my shoulders, my arms, my breasts, the dip of my navel and the curves of my waist, and he left me shaking with need long before he got down on his knees, nudged my quaking legs apart with his hand, parted my folds with his fingers and took that first long-awaited taste of me.

  The man gave great head. Should the whole superhero bit fall through, if nothing else, he could make a fortune teaching men how to tongue their women until they were ready to scream with the pleasure of it. I grabbed the back of his head, desperate to hold onto something as the wobble in my legs became incompatible with standing upright.

  “Watch the ears,” he said, giving my bottom a smack.

  The sting did nothing to temper the strength of the orgasm building inside me. I was nothing but wound up strings, and with each swirl and flick and lash of his tongue, he only wound me up tighter.

  “Say Daddy I’m a good girl, please may I come?” he said, gripping my bottom in both his hands, stilling the involuntary flinches that kept trying to take me away from his mouth.

  My face flushed hot. My pussy flooded hotter. I couldn’t look at him. God, how I both hated and loved it when he made me say these mortifying lines. He wanted me to ask for permission to orgasm? I grabbed his shoulder, turning my face away, burning with embarrassment while my shaking only intensified.

  “Be a good girl for Daddy,” he warned, kissing and sucking at my greedy clit, lashing me with his tongue over and over until I could barely keep myself standing. “Say what Daddy wants to hear or does Daddy need to get the wooden spoon first and spank your naughty bottom before you’ll behave?”

  My fingers were claws, clutching at his shoulders and the back of his neck. His hair wasn’t long enough to grab, or I might have snatched him bald.

  “Daddy, please!” I wept, already feeling myself stranded on the edge of earth-shaking release and knowing I’d never be able to control it. “Please may I come?”

  “No.” He released me abruptly, taking his beautiful mouth away from all the parts of me that needed him so very much. Getting up, he physically walked away, stripping off his belt as he went.

  Sadistic motherfucker.

  “Oh really?” he said, making an about face halfway to the bathroom and coming straight back to me.

  Oh shit, I said that out loud?

  “Uh…” I said, eyes wide, especially as he doubled his belt over with the buckle tucked into his palm.

  “Turn around,” he ordered, but he did it smiling.

  Somehow, I didn’t think my butt was going to enjoy either his smile or his belt. I faced his bed, hands clutched in front of me, fingers tightly interlocked because that was the only thing keeping me from picking up where his mouth had left off.

  “Bend over,” he told me. “Hands flat on the bed.”

  Dammit! I stomped my foot, bouncing sulkily. I didn’t want to get spanked by the belt, I wanted him to put his hands and mouth back on me and take me right back to that wonderful edge where my body no longer cared what he was doing so long as it ended in orgasms.

  THH-WHACK!

  Jumping, I yelped as his belt whipped across my backside, laying a not-so-gentle line of smarting fire into my naked flesh. I also dropped the attitude and scrambled to obey—head down, ass up, hands flat on the bedspread just li
ke he’d told me to.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” I whimpered, and for good measure added, “Daddy, I’m sorry!”

  “Uh huh,” he said, unimpressed. But he didn’t spank me again. Instead, his warm hand found me, slipping in between my legs to give my quivering pussy a comforting caress.

  I melted, closing my eyes and locking my lips to smother the moan I couldn’t bite back when he parted me with his fingertips.

  “What do you have to say to me?” he asked, stroking the length of my furrow, spreading my own moisture all over, and especially upon the head of my clit. With slick circling caresses of his fingers, he rolled that tiny button of pleasure around and around until I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t hold still either. I couldn’t vocalize. All I could do was feel, and what I felt was sheer heaven.

  He stopped rolling and gently began to spank. “What do you have to say to Daddy?”

  With little force and no more than his fingertips, he spanked my clit until I was mindless from it.

  “Daddy, I’m a good girl,” I begged, “please, please may I come?”

  My legs were shaking all over again. I was shaking everywhere.

  “Do you want to come on Daddy’s cock?”

  “Yes!” I cried, close to tears.

  “Say it,” he coaxed, sliding his thumb up inside me as his gently spanking fingers began to rub again. He pressed on my aching clit, the pressure making me frantic.

  “Yes, I want to come on Daddy’s cock!”

  “Kneel up on the edge of the bed.”

  I scrambled into position, the extra few inches gained by kneeling on the mattress putting my hips at a height with his.

  “Reach between your legs,” he ordered. “Hold your pussy open for Daddy.”

  I moaned, my whole body burning from the mortification, but I did it. I spread the folds of my sex open, tiny sparks racing through every sensual nerve ending as I heard him rip into the condom packet. I heard his fly open. I heard the stretch of lubricated polyisoprene being rolled down his length.

  “Daddy,” I whimpered at that first gliding touch of his cock as he slid into position behind me.

  He teased me, stroking up and down my slit with the head of him, lightly smacking my pussy like he’d done with his hand, even though I was already desperate for him.

  I only thought his fingers had stretched me open. Two broad fingers were nothing compared to his thickness as he slowly pushed his cock up inside me. It was agonizing, how perfect it felt at last to have him in me. He fit me, filling me up almost to the point that I couldn’t bear anymore. And then he began to move. Cupping my hips, he rocked me, letting me feel how deep inside me he was. Letting me feel how much deeper he could reach as he withdrew almost to the point of leaving me completely, before taking that first forceful plunge.

  “Oh!” My back arched. I grabbed huge handfuls of the bedspread, clutching my fists tight as I held on, my body rocking to the motions of Daddy sliding in and out of me. Slow as sin, hot as hell, over and over until all I could feel were all the parts of him touching me. The silken glide of his cock as he penetrated me, the cups of his hands on my hips, the pump of his pelvis smacking my bottom from behind, making that single stroke of his belt burn against my skin.

  I pushed back into his thrusts, needing more—more of his strength, more of this burning tenderness as his hips spanked me, more plunging thrusts filling me up until the whole center of my world became where our two bodies were one.

  Earth-shaking ecstasy built up from my core, until like a levy giving way to flood waters, I was overwhelmed. Wave after hot, pulsing wave ravaged through me, from pussy to womb, through to all the rest of my crying, writhing, spasm-racked body as I came to the rigorous pounding of Daddy’s cock. He managed only a handful of deep slams more before he came too, pushing hard with his hips as he yanked back on me, holding himself pressed in deep until his own fierce trembling waned, and his grip eased. Eventually, he let me go, sliding back out of me with a flood of hot fluid that followed. I could feel it dripping down my legs.

  “Shit,” he said, panting slightly. “Don’t move.”

  He went to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth to clean me up.

  “Did your super ejaculate break the condom?” I giggled.

  He swatted me. “We’ll double glove from now on. Get into bed.”

  When he held up the blankets, I scrambled underneath, settling in against the cool cotton sheets and his mound of pillows. I ran my hands along the watery-blue pattern. I liked it. It fit him.

  Shucking out of the rest of his clothes, he turned the bathroom light on, leaving the door open only a crack before he came back to bed and climbed in on the side opposite to me. He was a very big man, but it was also a very big bed and suddenly I felt awkward. A good arm’s distance of empty mattress space separated us now, but it yawned like a chasm between us and I wasn’t sure how best to cross it. After a lifetime of being alone, I ached for closeness. I wanted so badly just to touch him, but I was afraid. Nobody liked a Needy Nelly. Would I make him feel smothered if I asked to cuddle? If I waited for him to fall asleep and then inched close enough, I might softly touch his arm without him knowing about it and then maybe…

  Getting comfortable on his pillow, he rolled onto his side facing me and then, suddenly, lifted his head as if seeing me for the very first time. “What are you doing all the way over there?” He lifted his arms, raising the blankets out from between us. “Get over here.”

  I flung myself at him, only just reining it in at the last possible second so I didn’t hit him as I slipped into his arms. With all of me pressed up against all of him and my cheek against his chest, I closed my eyes and smiled.

  I could not remember any other time in my life when I had been as happy as I was right then.

  Considering the way my life usually went, I guess I should have known it wouldn’t last.

  * * *

  I awoke sometime in the night desperately needing to pee. That was the problem with drinking all evening. What goes in, almost always has to come out again, and with my bladder, it almost always had to come out well before I was ready to wake in the morning.

  I slipped out of bed without waking Brian. The thin crack of light shining through the open bathroom door was enough to see by, and I made my way across the room without cracking my toes into any of the furniture. As quiet as possible, I closed the door so I could pee, flush and wash my hands, all the while praying that Brian was a sound enough sleeper that he wouldn’t have heard any of it.

  It wasn’t until I was sneaking my way back to crawl into bed beside him again that, by sheer chance, my gaze happened to fall on the writing desk and the two manila file folders that Brian had moved out of our way earlier that night. I hadn’t thought much about them back when he’d done it. Had I not seen my name scrawled in black felt marker across one of the folders as I passed by, I probably wouldn’t have thought anything of them now either. Except I did see my name and, when I moved to get a closer look, on the other folder I saw my employee Donnie’s name too.

  Hesitant, not sure what I was looking at, I picked up both folders and took them back into the full light of the bathroom. Closing the door, I sank down to sit on the edge of the tub and that’s when my whole life came crashing down around me.

  The folders were police files, one on me and the other on Donnie. Mine had everything in it—my full name, personal information, my parents’ names and their information. Where I went to school, what foster homes I’d grown up in, the purchase price and financial information on my pawn shop, my bank statements and bills. Everything.

  Donnie’s had all that and more, and it took me reading through it three different times before it finally sank in what I was looking at. The last name Donnie had given me wasn’t his real last name; according to his file, his last name actually matched mine. His parents’ names and personal information matched mine, too. He’d grown up in a long line of foster homes, just like me. I didn’t
have an arrest record, but Donnie did. Where my income was supplied by the pawn shop, his income came mostly from dealing drugs and the one name that kept popping up was Patel, especially in the half-inch-thick stack of witness statements that I found directly underneath a surveillance photo of Donnie and I standing outside my pawn shop, smiling and laughing while I locked the front gate. It took my staring at that photo for almost five full minutes before I could make my stunned brain finally see the family resemblance. I’d been so young when children’s services took me into foster care. I barely remember my parents and I don’t remember siblings at all. But I had at least one, and Donnie was it.

  Donnie was my brother. I hadn’t known; I hadn’t even suspected. He’d never said one word to me, but judging from what I saw in the witness statements, he’d definitely known. It came through loud and clear in little lines like ‘his sister owns this pawn shop’ and ‘promised Patel the pawn shop if he couldn’t make his nut,’ whatever that was supposed to be.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jumped and very nearly dropped both file folders in the toilet. As shocked and engrossed as I’d been with what I was reading, I hadn’t heard Brian come into the bathroom. Dressed in only his jeans, the top button of which wasn’t even fastened, he took one look at me and the open files in my lap, and his whole face darkened. He frowned, his eyes flashing with grim warning a half second before he came charging in and snatched both files away from me.

  “I would have thought you’d learned your lesson about snooping,” he said, and walked back out of the room again.

  I honestly don’t think there’s anything else he could have said that could have pissed me off harder or faster than that.

  “Snooping?” I echoed. My shock giving way to fury, I charged out of the bathroom after him. “How could you? You had no right keeping that from me!”

  Dropping the files back on the little writing desk again, he braced his hands on his lean hips and then turned to face me. “You’re right. I should have said something, but you’ll have to forgive me for not knowing how to tell you that your own brother is the reason why Roger Patel destroyed your pawn shop—”