by Jaye Diamond
“Girls are stupid,” Ned says, sticking out his tongue.
“Shush,” I say. ”You know I don’t like hearing the ‘S’ word. Especially when you should be saying ‘thank you.’”
“Thanks,” he and April say in unison.
“You’re wel—” my new “friend” starts to say, but the kids turn their backs to him.
“Can I bob for apples, Daisy?” April asks, heading back to the booths.
“I want to bob for apples too,” Ned says, going after her. “When I take this dinosaur head off, can I put ketchup on my neck and call myself a partially decapitated dino?”
“Not gonna happen,” I tell Ned, as I hurry to catch up, with the slasher close behind me.
“So,” he says, “those two are...”
“A handful? Yeah.”
Miraculously, a half-hour passes without incident, and then we leave the festival and meet him in Sprout Hill’s nicest neighborhood, where people hand out the best treats.
We’ve almost made it to the last house when someone hollers at us from the camp chair they’re lounging in, in a garage, next to a bucket full of candy.
“Hey, Tank!” the tall, dark, and handsome man—who’s wearing a plush horse hat—yells. “We had some great games last year! Can’t wait to kick your butt this winter.”
“My butt?” yells slasher guy—who’s also apparently known as Tank? “Last time I checked, you’re the one who played on the losing team, Meatball.”
“How does he know who you are without seeing your face?” I ask, as we all walk over to the garage.
“Must have recognized my dad’s old mask,” Tank says. “I wear it sometimes, when I play hockey with my friends.”
“You’re calling us friends? I wouldn’t go that far,” the guy says, with total affection.
He looks nearly twice my age. Does that mean Tank is in his mid to late thirties too? I can tell he’s older than me, but that’s it. I have no idea if he’s still in his twenties or closer to the age of this guy, but thinking of him taking off that mask, and revealing he’s a sexy daddy-type, makes the heat of pure arousal stir between my legs.
It’s not like friends can’t be a wide range of ages though. My father is still close with guys he met through his hockey days when he was growing up in Michigan, and a lot of them are older or younger than my dad.
“Is your name really Meatball?” Ned asks, so excited by that prospect, he isn’t even going for the candy with April.
“Nah, I’m just a proud Italian, hence the stallion,” Tank’s friend says, pointing to his hat. “So, people have called me Meatball since middle school.”
“That’s very appropriate,” I say, making it clear to the children, with my tone, that it’s not.
The Italian guy laughs. “It was a different time.”
“His real name is Nico Tarabello,” Tank says. “Nico, this is Daisy Thurston, Ned, and April. Daisy needed some help watching these two so...here I am.”
“You chose the right man for the job, Daisy,” Nico says. “Tank is a very generous guy, which makes him the perfect person to exploit for free labor. Just ask my kitchen cabinets.”
“I’m never helping anyone install those things again,” Tank tells me.
I pat his arm. “No worries. I don’t mind keeping those off my list of free things for you to do.”
“I like her, and the costumes,” Nico says, pointing at me, then the kids, as he has zero reaction to the fact that April is shoveling the best candy bars from his bucket into her large trick-or-treat bag.
“Daisy made the costumes,” Tank says. “She’s a sewing wizard.”
“Nuh-uh,” Ned says, also grabbing way too much candy for himself. “Wizards are cool. Daisy doesn’t let us drink soda. That’s uncool.”
“Flawless logic,” I say dryly, reaching down and grabbing his tail so I can pull him away from the bucket. “Come on. That’s plenty of candy and your mom’s last text said she’d meet us soon, at the end of the street.”
“Have a Happy Halloween,” Nico says. “And, Tank, tell Ace I said hi.”
“Who’s Ace?” I ask.
Tank waits to answer until Nico is out of earshot. “He’s the guy who’s always been known as a fit and fast player. I was...bigger, and slower.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing where Tank must come from. What a dick move.
“It’s okay,” he says, reading my face. “I don’t mind Nico calling me Tank, or huge spiders, or even if we end the night with you asking me to help you put up shelves. Right now, all that matters is I’m with you—nothing else.”
“I want to kiss you,” I blurt, instantly knowing I spoke too loud, because I was able to hear myself over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
“Ha! I knew it!” April exclaims.
She and Ned stop dead and whirl on me so fast I crash into them—hard enough to take them down—but Tank catches us, wrapping his long arms around me and the kids until we regain our footing.
“Whoa,” he says, “are you guys all right?”
“I think we’re good,” I say, but I’m actually dying inside.
I have forfeited the right to argue when my sister calls me a dork. From now on, I’ll hang my head in shame and say, “Yep. That’s me.”
“I knew he was your boyfriend,” April says.
Good to know almost hitting the ground can’t deter her from intensifying my humiliation.
“Nice,” Ned says. “Don’t forget to wear a condom.”
“Excuse you,” I snap.
“What?” he says innocently. “That’s what Grandma says every time mom dates someone new.”
“Say goodbye,” I tell them through clenched teeth, as their mother’s minivan comes down the dark street and stops alongside us.
“Bye guys,” Tank says, and I can barely hear him over the kids’ giggles.
They both wave at him, then climb in the van, laughing up a storm the whole time.
“What’s so funny?” their mother asks through the open passenger window.
“You do not want to know,” I promise her. “You should go soak in a tub while these two overdose on candy.”
“That’s the plan. Thank you, Daisy.”
“Wow,” I say to Tank, after she drives away. “You really didn’t want me to introduce you.”
He kept his distance while I spoke to Joy, and stared at a bush like he was fascinated with it.
“Honestly, no. I would love to meet everyone in your life, but I was worried the boyfriend thing would come up again, and lead to the condom thing—and I didn’t want you to have to explain that.”
“Oh, good thinking,” I say, dropping my eyes to stare at the pavement. A solid three minutes have passed since I said I wanted to kiss him and he hasn’t shown any reaction to those five words that I’ve never said to anyone else. “I’ll get the Honeychoc Bites from my car and then you can g—”
Out of nowhere, Tank pulls me into his arms, holding me against his hard body like he owns me—and that’s all it takes to get me soaking wet. I used to laugh at the teachers who made couples slow dance with a gap between them at homecoming, because I didn’t know just pressing your body against someone else could feel so good. So sinful.
“I’ll need those names too.”
“What?”
“The names of the scum who put their hands on my little doll.”
“Your little doll doesn’t want to talk about them,” I say, reaching for his mask. “She wants your tongue inside her mouth.”
His deep groan tells me he wants it as much as I do, but he grabs my hands to stop them. “I’m worried there’s a spell on you that will break when I take this off.”
“Then I won’t look,” I say, closing my eyes.
I want him to feel as safe and comfortable with me as he makes me feel with him. If he doesn’t want to show me his face yet, I don’t care.
I just want his mouth on mine.
Chapter 5
Wes
/> I let go of my darling doll’s hands and my mask comes off.
“So you know, I’m picturing you as a fairytale prince,” she jokes, holding the hockey mask without even trying to sneak a glance at my face. “If you’re not that pretty you can make up for it with excellent kissing skills...Maybe. No pressure.”
I swallow, and glance around for someplace private. I’m not sure what the hell has come over me, but with the way my body’s acting—and the X-rated thoughts flooding my brain—I know kissing Daisy won’t be enough.
“We need to be alone,” I say, stroking her cheek.
She leans her head in toward the touch, and I notice her long lashes aren’t an artificial part of her costume, but all hers. “I need a lot more than that.”
I make a low, feral sound that I hope is more sexy than scary, check to see if the coast is clear, then lift her with the same amount of effort I’d use to lift an actual doll. “I hope that’s the truth, because I don’t think I can hold back.”
I want to be the gentleman she deserves, but she’s the one who transformed him into a monster who is hell-bent on fucking her like an animal.
My sweet side was the only one that came out with women before her. When I sought love, from time to time, what I liked most about it was doing caring things for another person. Arriving on their doorstep with flowers. Pulling out their chair. Offering to fix their leaky sink without them asking. And when they smiled or laughed because of my actions, that was my idea of scoring.
There was nothing that pleased me more than warming someone’s heart. Their delight was my delight, and their pleasure was my pleasure.
That rush of shared happiness was all I felt with those women, in a way that was no different from how I felt while being with a friend. So friendship was the end result of those courtships, as my area of interest in them narrowed down to wanting to see them smile or laugh. I didn’t want to go straight to pound town with any of them.
My bite-sized beauty is a whole other story. I’ve already seen her flush and brighten in innocent ways, heard her sound perky and carefree, and now all I can think about is her pussy milking my cock, while her eyes roll back in her head from an orgasm so intense it puts any climax that came before it to shame.
“Are we in someone’s yard?” she asks, as I carry her behind a privacy tree. It blocks the view of a narrow space between two big houses.
“Not quite, but close enough.”
“Is this what you’re into? Sex outdoors?”
“You’re what I’m into.” I want her so bad, I don’t care if I go to jail for lewd conduct in someone else’s yard—even if Jeremy would never let me live it down. “You’re making me act crazy.”
I heard falling for someone does this to people, and I always believed it could, but I never thought it would happen to me. I never saw myself throwing caution to the wind because I needed to assert that a woman was mine.
At the festival, Daisy told me about her family’s bar. About the men who hit on her there. I want her perfect skin to be dirty with my seed when she goes there tonight. I want those bastards to smell a real man on her. I want to find a seat in a central location and take her lovingly into my arms, so they can all see how it’s done. And I hope to God one of them is foolish enough to say an unwelcome comment in front of me, so I can show the rest of them what will happen if they so much as look at her the wrong way.
“I-if this is you when you’re c-crazy, then I like when you act crazy,” my little doll stammers, breathing heavy as I put her on her feet, and pin her to a brick fence.
“Does it make you wet?” I ask, cupping her face, when all I really want to do is put my hand up her dress and find out for myself.
She gives me a shy nod, her face turning the most lovely shade of pink. “There’s a puddle in my panties with your name on it—and I don’t even know your real name yet. But I couldn’t care less, because having you this close is making me crazy too.”
Fuck. This gorgeous girl has my heart in a vice grip and I feel like I’ll die if she ever lets it go. I want to tell her I love her, but that might be too much crazy, even in this wild moment.
I slide my fingers into her hair and do the next best thing, closing the space between our lips and kissing her like there’s no tomorrow.
Other kisses in my life didn’t go beyond sweet or raise the temperature above lukewarm, but Daisy’s tongue meeting mine starts a fire. One tiny spark is all it takes for everything to go up in flames.
“I want to make your filthiest fantasies come true,” I breathe when I pull away, lips burning. “Tell me what you want.”
She holds my mask to her chest and drags her tongue over her bruised lower lip. “Um, there...is one thing...”
“Say it,” I order, yanking on her hair.
She moans, and I kiss her neck to stop myself from capturing her mouth again.
“I want to call you daddy,” she confesses, whispering it like it’s our dirty little secret.
I don’t want this to be a secret though. I don’t want to only be her boyfriend, fiancé, then husband. I want everyone to know I’m her daddy. What better way is there for us to show the men, who might sniff around my doll, that I’m her possessive one and only?
“Yes, call me Daddy,” I urge. “I can’t think of anything sexier than being your daddy.”
I guess she takes that as permission to go into hyperdrive, because she drops my mask and kisses me hard, before her frantic fingers go to work on the buttons of my utility jacket. When it comes open and she slides her hands under my shirt, my balls feel so full I worry I’ll come on the spot if she moves those hot little hands any closer to my dick.
“Doll—Daddy needs to be inside you.” Before I embarrass myself and come in my pants.
I get down on my knees, reach under her dress, and pull down her panties, expecting the string-up-the-ass ones that can barely be considered underwear, but she’s wearing pink cotton panties with little white stars on them, which are so much hotter somehow.
“Do you have a condom, Daddy, or do you want to do it raw?” she asks, and the wet spot on my underwear that my cock is pressing into turns into a splash zone.
“Raw,” I grit out, because I don’t have a condom and all I care about is the sweet release of my seed pumped into her young pussy. To hell with the consequences.
The last time I acted this savage was with a bowl of candy, and I got sick just looking at the empty wrappers the next day, but I won’t regret this tomorrow. If Daisy gets pregnant with my baby during our first time together, I’ll be thrilled.
I rest one of her legs over my shoulder and she leans back against the brick fence, eyes still closed tight, giving herself over to whatever I want to do to her. I push her dress up to her belly and my mouth waters. Her pussy smells as good as the rest of her looks—and after seeing how pink and wet it is my cock is impatient, aching to slide into slick softness, but this daddy knows a perfect treat when he sees one, and it would be a crime to pass on an opportunity to eat her out.
I dive right in and give her pussy a sloppy kiss, savoring Daisy’s hitched breathing until her pussy rains yummy cream on my tongue and down my chin.
She lets out “Daddy,” in a strangled cry, while I gulp down her honey, and I’m sure our luck out here is about to run out. No one who might’ve overheard us so far has called the cops yet, but anyone who’s home must be close to doing that or coming to investigate the noise. Unless they’re getting off to this as much as I am.
“Now that you’ve come, baby doll, is this pussy ready to be fucked fast, and shown no mercy?” I dip my tongue into her wetness then plunge forward, seeing how she takes it.
She tries to get her post-orgasm panting under control so she can respond, but before she has a chance I come up against her hymen.
“Shit,” I say, looking up at her. “You’re still pure?”
Her shy nod makes a return appearance. “I saved myself for you, Daddy.”
“But...I saw yo
ur photos online, the captions...” I don’t want to say they were slutty, but they certainly weren’t something I’d expect from a virgin.
“My sister writes the suggestive ones, then tags Angel Stop to attract male customers.”
I’m going to have a talk with Poppy before the night is through, but for now I’m focused on the virgin pussy that countless hormonal teenage boys must have pursued before this moment. None of them were worthy, but I’ll prove I am.
“I’m honored you saved your cherry for me, doll, and I can wait if you don’t want to lose it like this.”
“No waiting,” she says sharply, her tone telling me she won’t be happy if I don’t hurry and get my cock in her. “It feels like I’ve already waited forever.”
That’s all the assurance I need. In a flash, my pants and boxer-briefs are shoved down to my knees and I pick her up. She hugs my waist with her slender legs and squeezes it as I hold her perky ass to lift her a little higher, then slowly enter.
She whimpers in pain through the unpleasant start, but those whimpers turn to moans once I fill her, past her broken innocence, and hit her G-spot with slow strokes.
She feels so good it makes an inner devil debate with my better angels, because I can’t choose between the caring desire to ease her into her first fuck, and my cock’s desperate need to wreck her pussy so hard that she can’t walk straight.
I wish I could see her eyes. Wish I could watch the fire in them grow when I do something she likes—but the last thing I want is for her to open them, realize who I’m related to, then think about my brother’s reputation while I’m fucking her. I don’t want anyone else in her head when I’m inside her.
I swirl my thumb around her girlwood, stimulating the aroused nub to relax her tight walls. She’s taking me well, better than experienced women who struggled to handle my measurements, but her pussy fits me like a glove and I don’t know how it will take being stretched wider with powerful thrusts.
“More,” she huffs, gripping my hair so tight my scalp burns. “Don’t restrain yourself. Take me like you can’t get enough of me.”