Her Yankee Doodle Daddy
Rebecca Gallo
Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Gallo
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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For my baby daddy - thanks for nine years of marriage Honey Bunny!
Contents
1. Duke
2. Libby
3. Duke
4. Libby
5. Duke
6. Libby
7. Duke
8. Libby
9. Duke
10. Libby
11. Duke
12. Libby
13. Libby
Epilogue
The Fireworks Series
Also by Rebecca Gallo
About the Author
Duke
There’s only one thing I truly hate in this world – a crying woman.
And my new neighbor is currently sobbing in the middle of her front lawn while a man twice her size jabs his finger toward her.
Oh, fuck no. One sip of coffee and I’m off the porch, headed over to make their acquaintance.
“Hey!” I shout when I’m within ear-shot. “Is there a problem here?”
Up close, my new neighbor is younger than I expected and smaller. Jesus, I could fit her in my pocket. And I’m probably old enough to be her father. Or her daddy, my dick says.
“None of your business, pal.” Beefcake says to me with a sneer.
I ignore him and give the woman my attention. “Hi, I’m Duke, your neighbor.” I extend my hand which she takes. “Is there something I can do to help?”
“Thank you so much for your offer, Duke. I can handle this…. I think.” Her bottom lip starts to wobble, and I resist the urge to wrap her up in my arms. Goddamn it, not again.
“It’s okay. Tell me what the problem is.”
“The problem is none of your business, buddy.” Beefcake chimes back in. Pal? Buddy? This guy clearly wants to be punched in his dick.
I swivel to face him and spot the green truck idling on the street behind him. It’s blocking just a few inches of my driveway and I could easily get around it if I needed but it gives me a reason to make this situation my problem. “Since your truck is blocking my driveway, it is my problem.”
“As soon as she pays the bill, we can unload and then we’ll be gone.”
She thrusts the paper toward me. “I’ve tried explaining to him I don’t have the extra five-hundred dollars he’s asking for!”
I take the quote from her and scan it. The first thing I notice is her name – Libby Wells. And then I notice the amount she was quoted to move her from the next town over. Holy shit, moving companies are such a rip-off.
“This is insane! She lived less than twenty-miles away!” I give Beefcake my full attention. “What’s the extra charge?”
“She lived on the third floor. She didn’t tell us that.”
Fresh tears stream down her cheeks and I can’t stand it. I wrap an arm around her and pull her close.
“Don’t worry. Just pay the man what you have, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Thank you, Duke, but you don’t have to do that. Five-hundred dollars is a lot of money.”
“Oh no, I’m not going to pay him.” I hold up the paper with the quote and tear it in half. “Consider this bill paid in full.”
“The fuck it is! She owes us five-hundred more bucks!” He jams his finger into my chest. Wrong move buddy.
I grab his finger and start to bend it back. “Maybe you didn’t hear me? This bill is paid in full. Libby, pay the man.”
Her hand trembles as she holds out a check, which Beefcake snatches from her. He looks toward me with an expectant look, and I shake my head. “No way, pal. I’m not letting go until you start unloading her stuff.”
Beefcake gives the order to the two losers leaning against the truck with their faces buried in their phones. They hop to action, opening the back and begin carrying boxes into the house. After the first few boxes are unloaded, I let go of Beefcake’s finger.
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Libby,” I say with a wink before I walk back to my house where I keep a careful eye on Beefcake and his buddies.
She disappears inside the house, but I can’t get her out of my mind. Sweet and petite, just the way I like ‘em; maybe a little too young for me. But the fiery red curls piled on top of her head and her pink, plump pout tempt me to dip my toe in the kiddie pool.
Stay away, my brain warns my dick. Stay the fuck away.
You’re no fun, my dick answers.
When Beefcake is finished unloading Libby’s stuff, he makes it a point to remind me I’m number one.
I contemplate going next door to check on Libby, to make sure Beefcake didn’t hassle her, or try to scam her out of more money. The moment my decision is made, and I step off my porch, Libby’s front door opens. She walks out holding a plate covered in aluminum foil. When she sees me, she smiles.
“I was just coming to say thank you,” she says as she bounces down the steps. Her tits jiggle underneath her plain white tank top as she walks toward me. Damn, she’s making it hard for this old horn-dog to ignore her.
“I wasn’t about to let you get swindled out of five-hundred dollars,” I respond.
She thrusts the plate toward me with an eager grin. “Well, I baked you these.”
“How the fuck did you have time to bake cookies?”
Her freckles disappear as her cheeks flush. “Okay, you caught me. They’re actually store bought.”
I laugh. “Why don’t you bring those homemade cookies next door and I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
I step aside to let her pass but not without getting an eyeful of her ass in a pair of tiny denim cut-offs. My dick aches for the chance to be inside of her and my heart gives an approving thump-thump. But it’s my brain that makes me slow down.
Listen to me for once, it says. But the moment Libby steps on my front porch and looks back with big blue eyes, all rational thought is lost.
Libby
Thank God for the kindness of strangers, especially hot silver foxes like my new neighbor Duke. He saved my ass when he stepped in and handled the movers. I explicitly remember telling them I lived on the third floor, but they conveniently forgot. Scamming assholes.
When they finally finished unloading my boxes and furniture, the big, tough-looking guy made sure to throw a nasty look my way before he left. I’m sure I’ll find more than one broken item but unpacking can wait. My mom taught me to show gratitude to those who offer help. The best I can do is store-bought cookies arranged on a pretty plate.
Duke steps onto the porch carrying two mugs of coffee and sets them down on a small patio table. He’s tall and broad with mountains of muscles beneath his black t-shirt. “Next time, bring whiskey,” he says with a wink.
Oh my god, is he flirting? Part of me hopes so. He eases himself into one of the matching set of outdoor chairs and takes a cookie from the plate.
“Noted.”
We make small-talk while sipping coffee and nibbling the cookies. It’s hard not to notice the way his glacial blue eyes keep flicking back to me.
“So, you’re a fireman?” I point toward the Maltese cross on his chest that’s often associated with firefighters.
“Retired,” he answers. “Today is my first day of retirement.”
“And yet you’re still saving peopl
e from danger.” I feel so embarrassed for crying like a baby in front of him. It’s a horrible habit I haven’t been able to break no matter how hard I try.
“That guy was an asshole. Next time, just rent a truck and ask your boyfriend to get some of his buddies to help you.”
“I totally would if I still had a boyfriend.” Duke looks at me with surprise and then his face relaxes as he runs a hand over his short, gray beard. Maybe he was flirting…
“His loss.” Duke’s lips tip up at the corners slightly as he brings his mug to his lips. “But my gain. Can I take you out for dinner tonight?”
“Like, on a date?”
He looks slightly pained. “More like welcoming you to the neighborhood. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do and cooking probably isn’t high on your list of priorities.”
“Well, I did just give away my dinner,” I tease, glancing at the cookies.
Duke reaches out and grabs a cookie. His eyes are locked on me as he takes a bite. “Perfect. I’ll be over around six.”
* * *
Just as I’m putting the finishing touches on my non-date outfit, my phone rings. The screen displays my ex’s name, Bronson, and I know I should ignore it but it’s so hard to sever a connection that began in high school.
“Hey Bron,” I say as casually as possible.
“Hey babe, where’s the TV remote?” My heart falls because this one question sums up the entirety of our relationship.
“On the coffee table, in the caddy.”
There’s a brief pause before he says, “Oh, right. I didn’t look there.” Of course, you didn’t, I reply silently. “Thanks babe.”
And then the call ends. I look up at my reflection in the mirror and blow out a breath. Statistically, high school sweethearts don’t last, I remind myself one more time before I swipe a coat of clear gloss over my lips.
But we could have made it, a small voice in the back of my head speaks up right before the tears start streaming down my cheeks.
After eight years together, I walked away so easily because there was nothing to make me stay. Not even Bronson.
The doorbell rings, startling me, and I swipe at my cheeks. Duke can’t catch me crying again.
I hurry to the door and when I open it, the first thing he says is, “You’ve been crying.”
“No, I haven’t,” I assure him. “I just poked my own eye trying to put on mascara.”
He stares at me intensely, like he doesn’t quite believe me before he says gruffly, “You don’t need any make-up. You looked fucking gorgeous without it this morning.”
I can’t help the blush heating my cheeks. When was the last time Bronson paid me a complement? “Thank you,” I say shyly, looking down at my feet.
Duke places two fingers under my chin and lifts my face gently until we’re eye-to-eye. “Never look away from a complement. You’re a beautiful woman, Libby. Own that shit.”
I run a self-conscious hand down my navy blue and white striped tank top. I do feel kind of flirty, especially in the red skirt I paired with my top. It’s short and flares out just above my knee. Okay, Duke, I am a beautiful woman.
I grab my small leather purse from the top of a box near the front door and smile proudly. “So, where are you taking me?”
Duke offers me his arm once we step out onto the porch. “There’s only one place to go in this town, The Stars & Stripes.”
Duke
Libby’s outfit seals the deal for me. I am living full-time in Bonertown. The skirt shows off her legs and curves and her tits are on full display in that tank top. She looks like a goddamn patriotic porno.
She climbs into my truck and I resist placing a helping hand on her ass, but I did appreciate the glimpse of her polka-dotted panties. We head downtown which is getting busy with the Fourth of July only a few days away. All of the buildings are decked out in red, white and blue bunting just for the occasion. Plenty of tourists are milling about after spending long days at Lake Jefferson. I find a spot to park a few blocks away from The Stars & Stripes after Libby assures me she doesn’t mind walking.
It’s hard to make any kind of small talk with large groups getting in the way so I reach out and grab her hand. She looks surprised but quickly relaxes as we fall in step together.
The Stars & Stripes is noisy but isn’t too full. We find a table close to the front, near the windows overlooking the street and as soon as we sit down, I ask her the question that’s been on my mind all afternoon.
“So, what happened between you and your boyfriend?”
Her eyes widen and she smiles nervously. “You’re not even going to let me have a drink first?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t have time to beat around the bush. One thing you need to know about me is I’m honest. And I’m honestly interested in you. You’ve got me thinking all kinds of wild, dirty things but I’m not going to lay a finger on you if you’re hung up on some numb-nuts dumb enough to let you walk away.”
She drums her fingers against the table and narrows her eyes. “I thought you said this wasn’t a date.”
“I might have stretched the truth.”
“So much for honesty,” she smirks with a raised eyebrow.
My hand curls around the edge of my chair and I pull it closer to hers. I lean toward her until my breath brushes against her cheek. “After you left this morning, I pictured you down on your knees, calling me ‘daddy’ and begging for my cock. How’s that for honesty, little girl?”
She’s silent for a moment but then she swallows and turns her head slightly. Her cheeks are flushed. “Is that really a thing? You’re really into being called ‘daddy’?”
“Absolutely and coming from your lips, it’ll turn me right the fuck on.”
Libby’s face reddens and she looks uncomfortable. I sit back, surprised my honest confession has hit a roadblock. Maybe Libby is a little too innocent. Maybe my dirty fantasies are going to send her right back to her ex. “So, tell me about this Bronson.”
“We started dating our junior year of high school and miraculously, stayed together throughout college,” she tells me easily, which means this is a safe topic.
“So why did you break up?” The server arrives and sets down our drinks. Libby reaches for hers and takes a few large sips before she finally looks relaxed.
“A shared past kept us together but that’s not enough to stay.”
“And you never talked about marriage?”
She smiles uncomfortably. “Gee, you’re really putting me in the hot seat tonight.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m sorry. All the guys in my ladder company used to say I was the nosiest asshole in the world. Your turn. Ask me a question.”
“Have you ever been married before?”
I should have expected a question like that after all of the ones I asked about her ex. “Yes, I have. Twice.”
She blinks. “Oh. How about kids?”
Now that’s a bit of a sore spot. “No kids. Neither of my ex-wives stayed around long enough and my shifts kept me away frequently. It’s my only regret in life.”
“Why do you like being called ‘daddy’?” So, we’re back to that, are we? Now it’s my turn to squirm because I wasn’t expecting her to be so blunt or curious.
I struggle to answer and when the house band begins playing, I quickly divert her attention. “Dance with me.” There’s a smile on my face and my hand is out, waiting for her to accept. She looks at the band and then back at me before accepting.
There is no one else dancing, in fact, there isn’t even technically a dance floor but that doesn’t stop me. Libby is stiff in my arms as I begin to lead her. Her eyes dart around the room nervously. “What’s the matter,” I ask.
“Everyone is watching us,” she whispers.
My hand around her waist tightens. “So? Let them. I’ve got you.” After a few more tense moments, I feel her relax into me. And now, I finally have an answer to her question. “It’s about protection and making you feel
safe.”
She blinks up at me with confusion.
“You want to know why I like being called ‘daddy.’ There’s your answer. In exchange for your complete trust, I’ll protect you and make you feel safe. In and out of the bedroom.”
She hums and leans her head against my chest. We sway to the music for a little bit longer before returning to our table.
“Does this mean you’re into spanking too?”
I almost choke at her directness. “Jesus Christ, you almost killed me.”
She flushes with embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m just curious. I’ve only been with Bronson and he’s not exactly a daddy.”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin and lean toward her. “Let me ask you a question, Libby. Do you want to be spanked?”
She blinks her big blue eyes and her mouth opens slightly. “Well, I’ve never considered it before. But I cry so easily it would probably be more embarrassing and less arousing.”
“Then I won’t spank you. For now.”
My dick hardens at the thought of her ass red and her pussy dripping. Our dinner isn’t even finished but I’m uncomfortable having this conversation. My dick is rock hard, but I know Libby isn’t ready for me yet. And I’m not about to force her to do something that makes her uncomfortable.
My chair skids across the hardwood floor as I stand up. “Time to go, Libby.”
Libby
This may sound naïve, but I didn’t think being called “daddy” was actually a thing. I contributed it to something that only existed in the world of porn. But Duke is into it and honestly, it’s both frightening and thrilling. As we drive back home, I glance across the cab of the truck at the strong, powerful man sitting in the driver’s seat.
Her Yankee Doodle Daddy (The Fireworks Series ) Page 1