by Maren Smith
“What are you thinking about?”
“Daddy’s thinking about something he wants to lick.” I put our bowls aside and ease her back on the bed. As I hoped, she’s naked under my T-shirt and I only need to push it up to take a mouthful of one of her breasts, and then kiss my way down her belly to her pussy. I slide my tongue against her in a long, loving lick, and she lets out a moan.
“Your pussy is perfect,” I whisper, in between lapping at her clit. She likes it exactly like this, firm and fast, and I have her panting and arching her back a few minutes later. She’s on the brink of coming and I watch her from my low vantage point, the way the blush of her orgasm flares in her skin right before she climaxes.
Before she can open her eyes, I’ve rolled a condom on and slide my cock deep into her, making her cry out sharply.
“Pull my hair, daddy,” she whimpers.
I reach into her blond curls, gather them up in my fist and squeeze. This is something she’s been asking for more and more. For me to hurt her a little or make her vulnerable while we have sex. She’s trusting me more and more and opening like a flower.
Right before she comes again, I wrap a hand around her throat and squeeze firmly. Livia cries out, her arms flung above her head.
“Good bunny,” I growl as I pound into her, my own climax racing through me. “Daddy’s good little bunny.”
I withdraw, and then wrap my arms around Livia and roll until she’s laying on top of me, gasping and moaning a little still and working to catch her breath. The curves of her body look incredible in the morning sunshine and I plant kisses along her shoulder.
I stay in bed with her for as long as I can, but soon she’s reminding me about work and gently pushing me toward the shower.
When I emerge in a cloud of steam, she’s got a pair of yoga pants on and she models them for me. “What do you think? I haven’t worn yoga pants in years.”
I spank her ass as I pass her on the way to my gym bag. “I think you look amazing, bunny. Ready for your work out?”
She does a little wiggle as she reaches for her purse. “You bet I am, daddy.”
We head down the street and into the gym. Joshua greets us with a cheery, “Morning, guys,” as we swipe through the barriers.
Livia’s my first client of the day and we chatter our way through our workout together. She’s doing so well that I only need to be stern with her when she pays too much attention to the other doms and trainees. She finds it fascinating to see all the different dynamics play out, and she has a habit of slowing down and slowing down until she’s staring, mouth agape.
We overhear Dom say to Amelia, “You’re being so good today. I’m suspicious.”
He folds his arms and narrows his eyes at his little girl as she blinks innocently up at him. “Why, daddy? I can be good for no reason.”
Ten minutes later we hear Dom ask in a ringing voice, “Peaches, why has your exercise record been torn into six pieces and taped back together again?”
I’m not looking and I’m trying not to listen, but I still hear Amelia mumble that she’s not sure, but maybe she got mad at him after her last session and tore it up.
“You’re not sure?” Dom asks, even louder.
Livia’s mouth is twitching, but she keeps up the rhythm on the rowing machine. Out of the corner of my eye I see Amelia fold her arms and stand in stubborn, angry silence. Dom points wordlessly to the cold shower room, and Amelia heads over with a huge roll of her eyes.
Livia has slowed right down to watch Amelia go.
“Bunny,” I saw in a warning tone.
Livia squeaks in surprise and scrambles to speed up again. “Sorry, daddy.”
I grin down at her, and wink. My heart feels very full, looking at her. My inquisitive little bunny who’s happy now, every day. She’s told me more about her past relationship, but never with any tears. She’s putting her bad experience behind her and looking to the future.
She’s doing so well at the gym, too. For her, it’s not about bulking up or shedding pounds. It’s a state of mind. Small wins like being able to lift a little more weight or touching your toes can bring a sense of accomplishment. She carries that with her wherever she goes.
“I’ll see you later tonight?” I say to Livia as I walk her out. We’ve got into the habit of spending at least half the week at each other’s apartments. I can’t wait until it’s permanent and we’re actually living together.
“You bet,” she says, beaming, and heads out of the gym with a bounce in her step.
“Look at you both. Smitten kittens,” Joshua says behind me, and it’s followed by a deep chuckle.
I didn’t realize I was so lost in watching Livia. I turn around and see both Joshua and Dom grinning at me.
“Smitten bunnies,” I correct, and then head back into the gym, whistling.
The rest of the day is a lot of hard work, but it’s rewarding, and I arrive at Livia’s at six with bags of groceries. I plan on cooking satay noodles, and I have a bottle of white wine for us to share.
She perches on the counter drinking a glass of wine while I chop vegetables for the stir-fry, and tells me all about the fantasy book she finished this afternoon.
I stop every so often to kiss her on the lips, and she kisses me back and then resumes talking excitedly about a dragon.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the front door.
“I think that’s the next book in the series!” she exclaims. “I ordered it already.”
I put down the knife and wipe my hands on a cloth. “Stay there. I’ll get it.”
When I open the door, I see, not a delivery driver, but Livia’s ex-boyfriend. I stare into his petulant, flushed face while every shitty thing he did to Livia runs through my mind.
“Ah, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters, eyeing me up carefully, as if trying to gauge how much I know about him and Livia and how angry I might be.
Everything. I know everything, you asshole.
“I want to speak to Livia.” He sounds like a sulky boy.
Livia’s voice calls behind me, growing louder as she comes through the lounge, “Who is it? Oh.”
Her voice falls hard on the oh, and she comes to a halt by my side. I start to close the door, but she puts her hand on my arm.
“Wait. Let me talk to him.”
Livia steps past me and faces Piers. I want to grab this asshole by the collar and march him downstairs rather than let him spend even one second even looking at her.
She studies his face carefully. “You’ve been drinking.”
Piers rolls his eyes and gives an angry sigh. “I don’t remember that being against the law.”
“No, but I would have expected someone who wanted a serious conversation wouldn’t wait until they’d had three beers to do it. You don’t really want to talk, you just want to intrude on my life.”
“Jeez, Livia, when did you get so fake-deep? Has this lentil-eating douchebag been giving you self-help talks?”
“No, Piers. I just learned some basic self-respect since we broke up.”
His expression becomes bitter. “You mean you turned into a bitch.”
I step toward him and snarl in his face, “Don’t talk to Livia like that. Don’t talk to anyone like that. Get the fuck out of here.”
Piers stares me down, breathing beer fumes all over me, but he’s not as confident as he was a moment ago.
“I could say I feel sorry for you, but I don’t,” Livia tells him. “I feel sorry for whichever woman will come after me in your life. I wish I could go to her right now and tell her that she deserves better than you, like I deserved better than you.”
I look carefully at Livia’s face, wondering if she’s upset, but she’s calm and clear-eyed.
“Goodbye, Piers. Don’t come around here again. You’re not welcome.”
She shuts the door in his startled face.
I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head, and murmur into her hair, “I’m so proud of
you.”
She squeezes me hard, and then smiles up at me. “Thank you, daddy. I can’t tell you how good it felt to say that.” Then her expression grows serious. “I wish I could pre-warn every woman he meets what he’s really like. It makes me angry to think that there’s nothing I can do to stop him from hurting someone else like he hurt me.”
“You did do something. You stood up to him and told him no. Maybe no one’s ever done that to him before and he needed to hear it.”
She thinks for a moment, chewing her lower lip. “He didn’t even seem like he was listening to me.”
“He heard. Maybe tomorrow, or next week, or sometime in the future what you said will get through to him.”
“I hope so,” she says, heading back through to the kitchen.
I follow her. I hope so, too. I hate the thought of any other women like Livia being subjected to a so-called dom like Piers.
I pick up the knife and resume chopping. “I got a new client last week, and from our first meeting I sensed that she might have been through something like what you’ve been through. I told her the things that made a difference to you, and slowly she’s relaxed into the place and is opening up to me a little.”
Sympathy wrinkles Livia’s brow. “Is she okay? Did she get away from the dom who mistreated her?”
“Yes. She was with this man for eight years, so her number one goal is to relearn her confidence. She says getting through her workouts is making a big difference, and seeing healthy power exchanges around her is showing her how the dynamics are supposed to work. That it can make her happy.”
“It will give her hope that she can have something like it in her personal life again.”
“I think that’s what I love best about Dom Fitness. It gives me the chance to feel like I’m making a difference in people’s lives.”
“And that’s why I love you, daddy.”
My eyes widen. We haven’t said I love you, yet.
Livia suddenly claps both hands over her mouth and turns red. “Oh, my god. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
I put the knife down and wrap my arms around her, kissing her cheeks and trying to get her to look at me. I can’t stop smiling. “You love me, bunny-girl? You love daddy?”
Livia starts laughing and hides her face in my chest. “I guess the secret’s out.”
I put my lips against her ear and whisper, “Don’t ever let it be a secret. Daddy loves you, too.”
Livia looks up at me with big eyes. “You do?”
With my arms around her, I settle back against the counter, her body against mine. I breathe in her warm, sweet scent. These are the moments that mean so much to me. Private, quiet moments with my girl when I can feel her love and happiness, and it makes mine complete.
I plant a kiss on her plush, pink lips. “Every bit of you, and I plan on telling you every day. I love my bunny.”
Livia’s eyes shine. “I love my daddy.”
The End
For more by Brianna Hale, please click here.
Daddy’s Blessing
P. D. Carter
About the Author
Interracial Romance Author, Drinker of Coffee, World Traveler, Japan Dweller… P. D. Carter (aka Paige Parsons) is diving into new waters once again. This time as a MM romance author.
During my 47 rotations around the sun, I’ve been an actress, a journalist, an educator, a stage manager, a production manager, an author, and even a brief stint as a customer service representative at UPS. Being an author is the most liberating of these paths. I love creating the stories and characters I want to see and am eternally grateful to my readers for going on the journey with me.
“Try everything twice. The first time is bound to make you a little uncomfortable.” ~P. D. Carter
Copyright © 2020 by P.D. Carter and Red Hot Romance, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events are purely coincidental.
Edited by: Silver Ink Publishing
“Can't sleep at night and you wonder why
Maybe God is trying to tell you something
Crying all night long, something's gone wrong
Maybe God is trying to tell you something”
~Speak Lord by Tata Vega
Chapter One
Asa
The music was thumping out a steady beat, and the energy pulsed up from the floor through the bar and the very stool I was sitting on. I didn’t need to be on the dance floor to enjoy myself or get lost in the atmosphere. Being in The District was enough. People watching was a big part of my fun, sometimes even more than participating, which I didn’t dare. Well, I didn’t dare without something stronger than cola, but there was no way I would risk getting a DUI in a gay neighborhood.
“Can I get you something stronger?”
The man standing before me was beautiful, even though he looked more ‘pretty boy’ than man. My age, maybe younger, but he had the cocky assuredness of someone very comfortable in his skin. He had a compact, well-built body that he must have painted into the leather pants he was wearing. His huge, coal colored eyes were dancing with either booze or lust.
“Unless that boring old cola has a little party in there already,” he drawled, with a local twang.
“Nope. Straight soda. I’m driving.”
“Who comes out to party and plans on driving home sober and alone?”
Well, he had me figured out. He kept stretching and leaning in like he was about to share his deepest secrets until he slid right between my spread legs as I perched on the barstool. The scent wafting off of him was so masculine and strong, a combination of sweat and something cool and outdoorsy, I had to turn away and take a gulp of my drink. I wanted to run the cold glass down my neck, but I thought he might think it was a come on. This level of self-torture was of my own making. Most visits to the club I looked at, but didn’t touch, the pretty displays.
It was easy. I knew exactly what I wanted. Whenever there was touching involved, I wanted to wrap my sin around a strong older man who knew how to take charge, and despite how sexy this little twink might be, he didn’t tick my boxes. I knew I wouldn’t find what I was looking for here. Debonair daddies didn’t really frequent local dive bars on random Thursday nights. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to find my daddy yet. Was I ready for that next step out of the closet? No, but I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t a party boy looking for a hookup. None of that kept my body from responding to his closeness. After all, I’m twenty-one and horny. He was all up in my space. His arm draped over my shoulder made me lean back to look at him. He towered over me. I had a real appreciation for the scruffy goatee he was sporting. It was more five o’clock shadow than full growth, but sexy as hell. These ventures out didn’t quell the confusion I constantly had in my head. I still didn’t push him away.
“Come and dance with me. You know you want to.”
Sliding off the stool, I forced him to step back. I reached into my back pocket for my wallet and left a ten-dollar bill on the bar once I had the bartender’s attention.
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to head home.”
“I can make a night at home a lot of fun too.”
This guy was persistent. He had the nerve to move in and start kissing the side of my neck, and then he nibbled on my earlobe. It was like a gerbil nipping at your finger when you stuck it in their cage. It was obviously doing more for him than it was for me since I could feel his erection on my thigh. Was dude going to dry hump me right here at the bar? Yeah, it was way overdue for me to get out of here.
“I’m flattered, sexy, but this is
me leaving alone and sleeping alone tonight.”
“Your loss, baby boy.”
“Probably.” I was doing my best to be gracious; letting down a drunk can go sideways really quickly.
He smacked my ass as his parting shot before sauntering off, confirming that he wasn’t the only one looking in the wrong place tonight. Not my type. Not even for a night. I needed a life.
I love my best friend. I love my best friend. It helped to remind myself of this as I contemplated, maybe not seriously, avoiding her. Early morning calls were the worst, and I was super susceptible this early and without caffeine.
There wasn’t enough stained glass, rousing choir numbers, pageantry, or maternal guilt, to tempt me into that place again. I didn’t have a problem with religion. I didn’t even have a problem with church, which was good since I was months from starting my master's in divinity, but I did have an unequivocal problem with the Third Street Baptist Church and the puffy-faced-sweat-dripping-always-shouting leader. The last thing I wanted to do was attend anything in celebration of him. Perching on the arm of my couch, I reached over and picked up my phone. I knew what she wanted before I even took the call, and she didn’t waste a second.
“Asa Watkins, say yes already. You know I’m going to wear you down. I always do.”
Bess was the only person in my life who started phone conversations like we were already in the middle of them. It was like she always started without you and expected you to catch up.
“I don’t have time, Bess. I already explained this to Mama when she called half an hour ago. Which, for the record, was a cheap stunt. The two of you do not have me figured out so easily.”
My mouth said I didn’t have time, but I knew she was right. Bess, my best friend since the age of five, knew me like a book, and she also knew I couldn’t refuse her. We’ve done the good, the bad, and the outlandish together, and no matter my level of initial resistance, I eventually give in every time.