by Jade West
I’m sure there’s no deeper meaning intended behind her words, but I feel it nonetheless.
“Yes, Laine. It’s so much more beautiful alive.”
“I feel alive,” she tells me.
“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
I wander amongst the plants, leading Laine so gently along the paths marked out. So many butterflies, and I tell her about them all. I tell her their Latin names and where they’re from. I tell her if they’re endangered, and what sizes they grow to.
She listens in wonder, hanging onto every word I say. I think she may love them nearly as much as I do.
Her steps are light and bouncy, her gasps genuine. “That one!” she squeals, pointing up ahead. “It’s so beautiful!”
And it is.
Of course it is.
The Maculinea Arion is the largest and rarest of the blue English butterflies. Little, blue-eyed Laine reminds me of one – so beautiful in her fragility. So graceful and delicate. Such a rare delight. I tell her so, and her smile melts my heart.
“That’s really nice.”
“And really true, sweetheart.”
The Arion flutters close, and my breath hitches, the thrill palpable. I see the butterfly’s path, see so clearly that it’s going to land. It couldn’t be more perfect, and it makes me shiver. Fate, she would say, and I’m beginning to believe her. I step away and take out my phone, just quickly enough to call up my camera app.
The butterfly dithers around her head before it lands, perches and flaps its wings once, twice, three times before it rests, so blue against Laine’s pale blonde hair. I watch my beautiful girl crowned by the beautiful butterfly, my heart full to bursting as so many others flutter around us.
Her shock is divine, her expression of wonder so beautifully innocent, and I know it for certain. Laine will love butterflies as much as I do. I can see it in her eyes.
I capture the moment and I know it’s one I will savour forever.
Talk is so easy on the way home. Laine flicks through the spotter pamphlet as though it’s a treasured possession, reading me out the names in Latin to make sure she has the pronunciation right. Her sweet voice makes them ethereal. Magical.
Wonderful.
“Maybe you could teach me how to spot them in the wild,” she says. “It sounds fun.”
“Harder work than the zoo.” I smile to myself. “It’s a different kind of fun, Laine, but no less enjoyable.”
“I think I’d like it,” she tells me, and I do too.
A few weeks ago I’d have struggled to ever imagine myself trekking into the countryside with jars and nets, but not today. Today anything feels possible.
“Better than crosswords, right?” she asks.
That makes me laugh. “Yes, Laine, considerably better than crosswords.”
“Better than TV, too,” she says.
We stop for dinner at a fancy little restaurant on the outskirts of the city, and I stare at her as she scours the menu.
“I don’t know what to choose,” she admits. “I don’t know what half this stuff is.”
I slide my chair around to her side of the table and talk her through the options. Her hand rests on my knee under the tablecloth and squeezes, and she’s so close, so intoxicatingly close. I can smell her shampoo, and her, close enough to enjoy the flutter of her eyelashes as her eyes wander over the main courses.
“I think we should go with the winter roast,” I tell her.
She nods. “That sounds good to me.”
I move back to my own side of the table before I give our order to the waiter, and already I’m missing her touch.
“When did you know you first liked butterflies?” she asks, and it makes me smile to realise she’s still thinking about them.
“A school project,” I tell her. “Infant school, I must’ve been only five or six. A conservation assignment, British wildlife and its habitat. We went out into the meadow behind the school and I spotted a monarch fluttering from leaf to leaf. I was mesmerised by its colours. Once I started watching them I never stopped. My father bought me a net for my birthday, I didn’t even ask. It was a surprise.”
“That was nice of him, to encourage that.”
“He was a fair man. Stern, but fair,” I tell her.
“Stern,” she repeats with a smile, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
She’s picturing my father’s belt on my backside, the severity of the punishment I received in his old study.
“As I said, stern but fair.” I pour her a mineral water from the jug on the table. “As I hope to be. That’s what I aim for, Laine, that same balance.”
“I haven’t seen you stern. Not yet.”
I hand her the glass. “You will, given time. When it’s necessary, sweetheart, only when it’s necessary.”
“I’ll always be good, Da-” Her voice falters, and I get it. She’s unsure how to address me in public. Daddy Nick sounds so fucking creepy.
Perverse and icky, as Laine would call it. Because it is. It is icky.
Dirty.
It’s fucking dirty.
But my cock’s already hard at the thought.
I don’t care who hears us in this place, and that’s a new feeling too, the disregard for appearances. My professional conduct is the only thing in recent years I’ve had to concern myself with, and that’s for my father’s legacy and the firm’s reputation rather than anything personal.
“It’s Daddy, sweetheart,” I tell her.
She looks uncertain, her cheeks flushing. “In public? I thought this was…”
“You thought it was at home only?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”
She shakes her head but she doesn’t seem entirely sure. “You said people wouldn’t understand… people like Kelly Anne…”
“And they wouldn’t. The complexity is too confusing.” I lean closer. “In this place I can be your daddy or your lover. Or both.” I smirk. “It depends how devilish you feel.”
I’m joking, but her eyes tell me she isn’t. They flash with dark amusement, and she wants it. I know she wants it.
Interesting.
My sweet little Laine is certainly interesting.
“I’ll call you Daddy,” she whispers.
Laine
I’m burning up as the waiter brings our meal. This is new ground, him being Daddy here, around people. It makes it seem so real and so tingly.
The waiter smiles as he places my plate in front of me, and I wonder if I should find a way to say it aloud. I wonder if that’s what Daddy Nick wants.
He doesn’t give me an opportunity to find a way. He does it for me.
“Doesn’t that look lovely, sweetheart?” he asks. The waiter looks at me, waits for a reaction with a smile.
My heart is racing. “Yes… it does, Daddy.”
Daddy Nick smiles so bright, and I feel like I’ve passed a test. I like it. I really like it.
“It looks really yummy, Daddy,” I say, trying it out some more. It comes so much easier than I thought it would.
I wonder how old the waiter thinks I am. Fifteen, maybe sixteen at most. Just the right age to have a daddy like Nick.
“Enjoy your meal,” the waiter says, and leaves us, just like that. As though it’s the most normal thing in the world, a little girl eating out with her daddy on a Saturday evening.
“Good girl,” Daddy Nick says, and I feel it in my tummy.
“I don’t look much like you,” I whisper.
“Then I guess you look like your mother.” His eyes twinkle so darkly, and I wonder if he’s hard. I wish I could find out.
Dinner tastes really good, but I hardly want to eat a thing. I have to force it down, but my thighs are doing that clenching thing they do, and I’m squirming on my seat, hoping Daddy Nick will take me again when we get home. Hoping he’ll do it fast and hard and make those horny grunts he makes when he loses control.
“Eat up,” he tells me. “You’ll need the energy when we g
et home.”
I eat every single bite.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nick
I drive faster than usual, my dick straining in my lap, so fucking hard at the thought of thrusting into Laine’s tight little pussy.
She doesn’t speak, just stares at the road ahead. But she’s fidgety, her cute little ass shuffling in the passenger seat. I know I’ll find her knickers nice and wet for me, the thought makes my mouth water.
“You can touch yourself,” I tell her. “It’s dark. No one can see inside the car.”
I feel her wide eyes on me. Such delicious shock. “But I…”
“But you what?”
“I don’t know…” she admits. “It feels…”
“Dirty,” I tell her. “Daddy’s feeling dirty right now, sweetheart. Daddy wants to take his little girl home and bury his cock in her pretty little cunt.”
A pause, and then I hear the zipper on her jeans.
“Good girl.” My balls tighten. “Make yourself nice and wet for Daddy. Tell him how it feels.”
I can see her little hand rubbing from the corner of my eye. “It feels… ah… it feels…”
“Play with that sweet little clit, Laine, but don’t come. You come only for Daddy.”
“Ah… but I’m so…”
“Only Daddy makes you come, Laine. Understood?” My voice is so harsh, laced with the pressure of my straining fucking cock.
“Yes, Daddy…” Her hand slows down its rubbing.
We’re turning onto our street before I know it, and Laine keeps rubbing herself right until I turn off the engine. She piles out of the car without fastening up her jeans, and they’re so easy to yank down her thighs once we make it into the kitchen. I press into her from behind and walk her forward with frantic steps until I’ve pinned her against the kitchen island, her tiny body so delicious as I grind against her ass, my fingers snaking around to slip inside her knickers and rub at her needy little clit.
“You’re so fucking wet for Daddy,” I hiss. “So fucking wet.”
I dip my fingertips in her slit to illustrate, and she moans for me.
“You want Daddy’s cock again, don’t you?” My mouth is right by her ear. “Tell Daddy how much you want his cock.”
“Please, Daddy!” she cries. “I want it so much!”
“Say it.”
“I want your cock, Daddy! Fuck me!”
She’s learning.
The ache in my groin is more than I can fucking bear. I spin her around me and hitch her up onto the granite, tugging down her wet knickers and spreading her thighs nice and wide. Her pink slit is puffy and glistening, mine for the fucking taking as I spit on my fingers and sink two all the way inside.
She moans a delightful little moan, and I fuck her harder, my fingers easing and stretching her open. She’s still so tight, her tiny hole such a fucking wonder. “Yes! Yes, Daddy!”
I move in circles, nice and deep, applying pressure until she gasps. I groan for her as I clamp my mouth onto her pretty little mound, and her clit is so easy to find, standing proud for my tongue.
She bucks her hips, urging me deeper, and I suck, flicking my tongue so quickly over that hard little bud.
“Daddy!” Her voice is breathless, frantic. “I’m gonna come, Daddy!”
I stare up at my gorgeous girl, her cheeks flushed and lips parted. Her top has ridden up to her bra, her tummy so tight. Her legs wrap around my shoulders, and she uses them as leverage, rubbing her pussy against my face as she shudders. She loses control, cursing in such a pretty little voice, and I keep on lapping until she’s all used up.
Her wetness is in my nostrils, smeared slick over my mouth. She tastes fucking divine. I get to my feet when she’s done, and take out my cock, spearing her so suddenly that she squeals.
“Ow, ow, ow…” she groans as I push all the way inside. She rocks her hips regardless as her pussy takes me, and her mouth is open wide for my kisses. Her hands reach around to grab my ass, and my horny little girl urges me on, urges harder, faster.
Her innocence hides such a dirty little minx, just begging to be coaxed out into the open.
I shouldn’t come without using protection, not without a serious discussion, but my sweet little Laine surprises me yet again.
“Come, Daddy! I want it! I want it in me!”
And so do I.
I want to fill that tight little cunt with my seed, I want to fill her up until she’s swollen with my child, and her pretty little tits are so ripe.
It’s the beast within, I know it. I feel it behind my eyes, the desire to claim her forever. It’s all kinds of fucking wrong, but I can’t resist.
Frantic thrusts and I unload, her sweet cunt sucks it from me, milking my balls until they run dry.
She drips as I pull out of her, and her freshly fucked hole is a sight straight from heaven.
She catches her breath, smiling as I run a thumb over her slit.
“Such a good girl for Daddy,” I tell her. “All full up.”
Her eyes twinkle as she tugs her crumpled top over her head.
“I want more,” she says.
Laine
Daddy Nick loves me all through Saturday night. He loves me until I’m too sore to take his cock anymore, and then takes me with his mouth instead.
Daddy Nick loves me until we’re both panting and sweaty. He loves me until there are no words, only breath.
He loves me until I fall asleep in his arms, and then he wakes and loves me again on a bright Sunday morning.
We eat toast, and then he bathes me. He washes my hair, and soaps me all over, and then he pushes his fingers inside my ass. Only this time it makes me so horny I beg him to love me all over again.
He does.
He gives me so much.
He gives me everything, over and over through Sunday night.
He’s still taking me as the birds are chirping outside, and I’m too scared to check my phone alarm, knowing my sleep will be barely enough to function.
It isn’t.
I don’t want to wake up for college. I barely move as I hear his voice from downstairs. My head feels muggy and my pussy feels sore, and all I want to do is curl up with him and talk about butterflies, but Daddy Nick doesn’t do days off.
He’s already dressed so smart for work. Already cooking my breakfast.
I eat slowly, my eyes still heavy with sleep, and he smiles and calls me lazybones, then leaves me to clear our plates as he finishes getting ready to leave.
I startle as he claps his hands in front of my face, and I’m still in the same position at the table, my breakfast plate still empty in front of me.
“Chop-chop, sweetheart, we’re late. We can’t be late, Laine.”
His voice is stern and filled with irritation, and I feel mortified to have disappointed him in such a silly way. I rush to my feet and clear the plates with a clatter, then bound upstairs two steps at a time to brush my teeth and gather my messy hair into a ponytail. I throw on my clothes, still fastening my jeans as I race to the door while he’s waiting. I barely notice the lunchbox he thrusts in my hands, and follow him out to the car in a daze.
The frosty air wakes me up enough to attempt conversation, but he’s still irritated, checking the clock on the dashboard every few seconds.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say.
“An early night for you, young lady,” he tells me. I don’t disagree.
I could sleep for ten years straight.
I’m groggy when Kelly Anne catches me in the corridor. She’s grinning, bursting to tell me some stupid news or other. It’s about a guy, not Harrison, some other stupid stud called Mason she met down the fish and chip shop. Mason. I doubt that’s even his real name. She tells me he’s built like a bear, and fucks like one, too.
The way she talks about him you’d think he was the master of the female orgasm, but she’s full of shit, I can see that now.
I wonder if she’s always been so full of shit.
<
br /> Probably.
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t seem all that interested. I guess Daddy Nick is sooo much more important than me now…” She follows me anyway. “So, have you actually fucked the guy yet?”
She clearly doesn’t believe for one second I’ve done it. I shouldn’t rise to the bait, but she’s been looking at me like such a prude for so long now that I can’t help but revel in the fact that I’m not.
I stop walking, and even though I’m exhausted and still so gutted I upset Daddy Nick this morning, there’s still a sizzle all the way through me.
“Yes,” I tell her. “I have. And it was great. It was amazing. He was amazing.” I grin, and once it’s on my face it won’t leave.
She looks so shocked, her eyes so wide as she gawps at me.
“Wow,” she says. “Congratulations.” It’s hollow and empty. Her insincerity is so obvious now I have Nick in my life.
Nick. I haven’t thought of him with just his actual name for days.
“I love him,” I tell her, and I’m so confident with the statement it takes me aback. “I love him and he loves me, and it’s amazing.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, well, I thought that about my first shag, too. You’ll get over it.”
I shake my head. “It’s different.”
“Oh yeah? How would you know?”
There’s a million reasons I’d know. The way he looks at me, the way he cares, the way he holds me and kisses me and his eyes turn so dark when he wants me. The way he breathes so steadily when he’s sleeping next to me. The way he speaks with me, shares things with me, the way he’s so tender when he brushes my hair.
“I just know,” I tell her, and there’s that confidence again. I’ve never been confident before. It feels so weird.
“So, what you gonna do now? Get knocked up and have two-point-four kids and live happily ever after in his fancy house?”
The thought of that makes me feel so tickly inside. “Maybe.”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. A real idiot. “Jesus, Laine. What’s wrong with you? You want to have kids with creepy guy?”
“He’s not creepy.”