Not Her Daddy

by Darcy Dawes

  I was sure to have a great time finding out at the meeting.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again, Rafe,” I said pleasantly as I shook his hand and indicated for him to sit down. I took the seat next to him; we had known each other for a few years now so, although I wasn’t in charge of his account, we were friendly enough.

  “I suppose it’s always wonderful for a publishing company to see the face of an author who brings in lots of money,” he grinned. It was meant teasingly, but he and I knew it was achingly true. I had no such qualms about this—I wasn’t a book snob—but I suppose, for Rafe, it was important. I knew he used to get belittled by people in the industry for trying to make money selling smut.

  Everyone else that was attending the meeting began to filter in around us, and a secretary offered tea and coffee until everyone was seated and comfortable.

  Georgia, the marketing lead for Rafe’s account, stood up to speak.

  “It’s great we could get everyone together for this meeting today,” she began. “I thought it was important that more people at Farthing had an idea about how we market novels such as Rafe’s when we can’t advertise them the way we would books with a decidedly less adult content.”

  “You mean books not solely about fucking,” someone muttered, to a smattering of laughter throughout the room.

  Georgia frowned slightly. “Yes, but it’s exactly that derisive attitude that we don’t need, Frank, so maybe keep your comments to yourself. Anyway…”

  She went on to explain the marketing strategy, which was all in all very clever but not remotely of interest to me. I glanced at Rafe out of the corner of my eye—he had a copy of his new book in his hands. It took my brain a few seconds to properly engage with the title.

  Yes, Daddy.

  Rafe caught me staring and, with another of his toothy grins, slid the book over to me. I turned it over and read the blurb and just about had a heart attack: it was about a barely-legal girl going off to college and attracting the attentions of a high-flying forty-year-old. The girl’s father had been out of the picture for years—everything about her screamed ‘daddy issues’.

  That clearly wasn’t a problem for the man.

  Flicking through the book random lines of dialogue caught my eye. The hero would command the girl not to misbehave, or to make sure she was listening to him. The girl enjoyed it. She’d deliberately act childishly so that he would scold her. When she dropped a plate in the man’s expensive kitchen, he spanked her. She enjoyed that even more.

  When things turned sexual she called him daddy. The man got a rise out of it…quite literally. And as I read more and more from the book I realized I was getting that same rise, too.

  So this is what’s going on with me and Natalie, I thought, with surprisingly calm clarity—though, beneath the table, my cock was twitching and aching to read more of the book and find the object of my desires to play out some of the scenes with her.

  There were other parts in the book where the man simply looked after the girl. They genuinely cared for each other; at the end of the day there was nothing unhealthy about their relationship—their odd sexual kink was exactly that. A kink. The rest of the time they both led entirely ‘normal’ lives, whatever normal really was. There was something reassuring about that; whatever was between them was for the two of them and nobody else. No-one had to know.

  I was sure somebody would find out later in the book, providing that generic spark of drama the characters needed to be temporarily torn apart only to reunite.

  Rafe elbowed me slightly. “You like it, huh? Knew you would. People always go for the kinky shit, even if they don’t wanna admit it. You can keep that copy, if you want.”

  I smiled at the offer, but I shook my head. “I’ll buy a copy when I’m not looking after my nephew anymore. Don’t want a five-year-old mistakenly picking up.”

  Rafe roared with laughter at the comment, surprising everyone. “I guess not,” he said, reigning his voice back in. “I don’t imagine he’d be ready for the content yet.”

  The rest of the meeting passed by without a hitch and, when I returned to my office all I could think about Rafe’s book and Natalie. The similarities between some of the dialogue and the things we had said to each other were eerie. We’d fallen into what was clearly an established kink without either of us knowing about it. Well, at least I didn’t know about. I couldn’t be sure what Natalie knew or not. That blowjob she’d given me certainly wasn’t the work of an amateur.

  Thinking of her having been with other men—boys, really—caused a surge of jealousy to pass through me. Natalie’s mine, I thought, though I had never been possessive before in my life. Nobody else can have her.

  It was with relief that I managed to finish my work early and get back home before rush hour traffic truly kicked in. But when I called out that I was home nobody answered. Confused, I padded through the house.

  I don’t remember Nat saying she was taking Wyatt anywhere.

  But then I saw them, curled up on the couch and fast asleep. Wyatt was still clutching a book of dinosaurs, though it was minutes away from slipping out of his tiny fingers and falling to the floor. Natalie had an arm slung over him protectively, keeping my nephew close to her chest.

  My heart hurt to see it. Her soft, beautiful face was serene and relaxed and utterly carefree as she slept, her gentle breaths fluttering through Wyatt’s hair as she exhaled. She was like an angel.

  Quietly, I picked up a blanket and threw it over the pair of them, then headed upstairs for a shower.

  I’m so screwed, I thought. I’m in way too deep.

  I couldn’t believe that, at the age of thirty-eight, I’d fallen for my nephew’s nineteen-year-old nanny. And what made things so much worse was that I knew, deep, deep down, that I wanted to be like man in Rafe Forbe’s story.

  I wanted her to call me daddy.

  Chapter Six

  Natalie

  When I woke up to silence I completely panicked.

  “Why didn’t my alarm go off?!” I exclaimed, immediately wide awake. I grabbed my phone—it was after ten in the morning. “Shit. Shit. What’s Wyatt up to?”

  But then I saw the date and laughed myself back against the pillows.

  It was my day off.

  Weekend off, actually. Wyatt was with his grandparents, which left me free as a bird in Daniel’s house. Alone. With Daniel.

  My stomach lurched sickeningly. Here I was, sleeping in like an idiot, when I had only one weekend to see if I could push Dan’s buttons enough to break through his carefully-constructed exterior. He’d been far too polite since the bathroom incident which, in turn, caused me to awkwardly do the same.

  There was not a doubt in my mind that Daniel wanted to take things further after what he’d said and done when I was in the bath. There was just no way he was satisfied. It was bizarre—I’d never been so sure of myself—of my own sexual appeal—before. But with Dan I was. With Dan I wanted to explore.

  I ached for it.

  And so I moved through to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower, carefully shaving and moisturizing to ensure my skin was as irresistible as possible. I blow-dried my long hair until it was bouncy, soft and fluffy around my face, begging for Daniel to touch it.

  It was a hot day so I put on a delicate-strapped, white sundress which would have looked virginal and entirely innocent if I hadn’t forgone a bra. Without one, the shape of my breasts was teasingly obvious beneath the thin fabric. Dan would barely have to touch me and my nipples would stand on end as a result.

  The barest application of make-up to widen my eyes and make my lips seem wetter and more enticing finished the look. Twirling in front of my mirror, I appreciated my handiwork. If Daniel didn’t fall for this then he’d fall for nothing, and for my own sake I’d back down. I didn’t want to face rejection—the prospect was terrifying.

  I just have to make sure I don’t fail, then.

  When I bounded down the stairs to the kitchen,
I basked in the sunlight streaming through from the open double doors leading onto the terrace in the back yard. Dan was sitting out there, reading a book and drinking iced coffee.

  My heart leaped as I sauntered through the kitchen to the terrace, stretching my arms over my head when I came into Daniel’s line of sight.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” he chuckled. “Did you have a good—”

  His words caught in his throat when he looked at me. I flashed him a smile.

  “Did I have a good what? Sleep?”

  Daniel nodded slowly, still too dumbfounded for words.

  “Yes,” I said, keeping my lips curled upwards slightly. “Very well. I’m full of energy now. Though I’m starving.”

  I couldn’t have been much more obvious that I meant that in more ways than one, but Daniel didn’t seem to know what to do. He glanced at his watch.

  “It’s practically lunchtime. Do you want to go somewhere? My treat.”

  “Could we have lunch out here, instead?” I asked, knowing that I didn’t want to go anywhere public. It would mess up my plan. And Daniel’s back yard was completely walled off—we could literally fuck on the lawn and nobody would see.

  The thought had my heart racing with excitement. I imagined unbuttoning Daniel’s short-sleeve linen shirt and running my hands over his chest, kissing the hollow of his throat before making my way to his ear to whisper my filthy desires to him.

  Daniel’s eyes moved from my face to my chest, where my nipples had stiffened slightly in response to my runaway thoughts. His throat worked—it was incredibly satisfying.

  “I suppose I can’t have you dressed like that in public, young lady,” he said, the side of his mouth curling up into a smirk. “Did your father never teach you any modesty?”

  I fingered the edge of one of my dress straps; Dan watched me do so like a hawk honing in on a rabbit. “Modesty? Never heard of it…”

  There was a long pause. I knew this was the moment that would decide how the rest of my day—and weekend—went. Daniel stood up.

  “Lunch in the garden it is, then,” he finally said, making his way through to the kitchen as I dutifully followed.

  Yes!

  We spent the next half an hour or so making a full lunch spread of sandwiches, fruit, yoghurt, chips and dip, chocolate and—most importantly—wine.

  “I’ve only been drunk once before,” I murmured excitedly as he uncorked the bottle.

  “Ah, shit,” Daniel remarked, looking instantly regretful. “You’re not twenty-one yet. I keep forgetting it’s not eighteen in most states.”

  It was weird to think that, were Daniel grew up, eighteen was an adult in every sense of the world. Here, in the US, I was deemed still too young to handle putting alcohol inside my own body.

  I smiled easily. “I can have a glass, can’t I? Just one? Pretty please.”

  I knew I’d won when I saw Daniel’s face. “Just one,” he relented, “and not a large glass, either!”

  “Noted.”

  We sat outside at the table, lounging easily in the sun as we picked away at food and I watched Dan trying very desperately not to keep looking at my boobs.

  “So tell me about what you did at work this week,” I urged, twirling my hair round my fingers as I did so.

  His eyes lit up. “We had one of our authors, Rafe Forbes, in. We were going over the marketing for his new book.”

  “Rafe Forbes?” I frowned. The name seemed familiar.

  “He’s an erotic romance writer,” Daniel explained. “Disgustingly rich. He’s—”

  “I think my roommate in college reads his books,” I interrupted, realizing why I recognized the name. “He wrote some story about step-sibling romance or something.”

  “Sounds like Rafe. His new book is about a girl with daddy issues.”

  Oh.

  I could practically feel my heart in my throat. “Care to divulge?” I demurred, risking brushing my leg against Dan’s. He looked down as I did so as if wondering what to do next.

  “I’m not sure if you can handle it,” he murmured, cocking his head to one side to stare at me.

  “Try me.”

  And then Daniel curled his foot around my chair leg and pulled me closer to him. His hand crept up my thigh until his fingers were beneath the hem of my dress.

  “You’re so demanding, Natalie. Where are your manners?”

  “I—seem to have forgotten them,” I said quietly. “Or maybe I never had them. Won’t you teach me some new ones, da-Daniel?”

  I so nearly did it. But I chickened out.

  Daniel’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You can’t even address me properly. What am I to do with such a precocious child?”

  I dared not lean in any closer, though I tilted my body slightly until one of the straps of my dress fell from my shoulder. “Maybe words simply won’t get through to me. Maybe I need a firm hand to teach me some manners.” I glanced down at his hand, which was almost completely beneath my dress. “Your hands seem pretty firm.”

  His fingers clenched into the meat of my thigh. Just inches from his hand I was achingly wet. I risked sliding forward on my chair until his fingertips brushed against the soaking material of my panties. Daniel pressed against the material as I bit my lip and crawled a hand down to his belt.

  “You’re being a very bad girl, Natalie,” he murmured. “I didn’t give you permission to do that. Whatever will become of you if you never learn how to treat your elders with respect?”

  His cock was rock hard beneath my hand. I could feel it only growing bigger as is stroked it through his pants.

  I held Daniel’s gaze.

  “Won’t you teach me some manners…daddy?”

  Chapter Seven

  Daniel

  I’d never thought I was particularly kinky before. My sexual desires could probably be called vanilla, even.

  So why was I getting harder than I’d ever been in my entire life for a nineteen-year-old girl calling me ‘daddy’?

  Whatever the reason, though, I didn’t fucking care.

  “Right, that’s it,” I muttered, and without giving Natalie a chance to prepare, I slid my fingers into her pussy through the fabric of her panties. It stopped them from going in further than an inch or so—just enough to tease her.

  Natalie’s hand curled around my belt. “How am I supposed to learn when all you do is tease?” she mouthed.

  She wriggled against my fingers, urging them further inside her body. Her nipples were achingly obvious through the inconsequential material of her dress—as soon as I’d seen them when Natalie came bounding outside I knew I was going to give in to my insatiable desire for her.

  With one fell swoop I picked Natalie up and threw her over my shoulder. I just barely slapped her ass, and then I squeezed it. She gasped.

  “I’ll show you want you can learn by teasing, you brat,” I said, well and truly getting into the role of the male protagonist in Rafe Forbes’ story. “I’ll have you begging on your knees for me to teach you some manners before the day is through.”

  I crawled my fingers round Natalie’s perfect ass to her underwear, which was even more sopping wet that before, if at all possible.

  “Please be gentle,” she said innocently. A perfect act.

  I bit her ass; she cried out. It was immensely satisfying to see the marks my teeth left on her perfect, pale skin. “I don’t think gentle will get through to you, Natalie.”

  I easily carried her through the house and up to my room, tumbling her onto the bed carelessly before undoing my belt. The sight of Natalie, disheveled in her sinfully indecent dress slipping halfway down her shoulders and exposing her panties was enough to drive me wild.

  “You’re daddy’s little girl,” I murmured, pulling my belt away from me and climbing on top of Natalie. “But you’ve been acting like a little whore in that dress. Is that how you want me to treat you? Like a little whore?”

  I never would have imagined speaking to a woman like this before
. But Natalie merely bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes at me, cheeks going red in her excitement.

  “I just want you to pay attention to me, daddy,” she pouted. She shifted slightly beneath me, and her dress came dangerously close to exposing her breasts entirely. “Don’t you like the way I look?”

  With one, deft movement I used my belt to tie Natalie’s hands behind her back. I ripped away her dress, finally freeing those bouncing, perfect breasts of hers. I unzipped my pants, my cock throbbing in delight when I released it.

  I slid it against her breasts. Sophie gulped.

  “You want this, baby?” I crooned. I ran a hand through Natalie’s impossibly soft hair, urging her closer. “You want this inside you, Natalie?”

  She nodded, heading bobbing up and down in time with her tits as my I continued to slide my cock between them. The teasing was as much torture for me as it was Natalie, but it was a sweet kind of pain.

  I’d never felt hornier in my life.

  “Turn around, Natalie,” I ordered. “And lie down.”

  “But I want to see you—”

  “You don’t want to disrespect me,” I cut in, grabbing onto her chin and leaning in so closely I could easily have kissed her.

  I didn’t. Instead, Natalie did as she was told and lay on her front, hands tied behind her back twitching in their desperation to be freed. I put my cock in her hands, and they tightened around the shaft immediately.

  “Let’s see how good these hands are, baby girl,” I said. “I already know how slutty your mouth is, after all.”

  Natalie eagerly complied, her small, delicate fingers blindly rubbing against me until I was panting and rutting against her. She was too good. I pulled my dick out of her hands and lifted up the skirt of her dress, ripping off her panties before sliding my thick, throbbing erection against her ass.

  She cried out. “Daddy, please, put it in me! I’ll be good, I swear!”