Dirty Seduction

LAINE

He doesn’t do any of the usual stuff, like head through to the kitchen. He doesn’t head upstairs and take his jacket off and hang it up, or take my lunchbox and put it in the dishwasher. He doesn’t make himself a coffee get me juice, or ask me about my day.

When Daddy Nick closes the front door today, he takes my hair in his hand and pulls tight until I gasp, and then he kisses me, and his tongue is so rough and so fast, his thigh between mine as he pins me to the wall in the hallway.

I wonder if this is it. If he’ll take me now.

If he’ll take me here, with my jeans around my ankles and his tongue in my mouth. I want that. I want it any way he wants to give it to me.

His fingers tug at my cami top and squeeze my tits through my bra, and he’s so hard against my belly, so hard and so big.

Suddenly Kelly Anne’s silly techniques don’t seem so silly.

I want to try them. Every single one of them.

I open my mouth wide for Daddy and let him push his tongue so deep, squirming against his leg as his fingers tug and pinch at my nipples. I like it.

I like it so much when he’s rough like this.

I wonder what it would feel like to be a bad girl and have him punish me, and I like that, too.

I groan as he pulls away, and his breath is hot on my face. Hot and fast.

“Upstairs,” he orders. “Take your clothes off in the kitchen and wait for me at the table.”

I nod and my tummy lurches as I leave him. He watches me all the way upstairs as the butterflies flutter. My heart thumps as I take off my cardigan on the way, and my cami, too. I fold them and place them on the chair, then unclip my bra with shaky fingers. I slip down my jeans and step out of them, my knickers, too, and put them on the pile until I’m only in my socks.

I’m tugging them off when he comes into view, and he stares at me.

Swallows as I pull them free and put them on the chair with my knickers.

He’s carrying a towel and a bowl.

And a razor.

He’s carrying a razor.

I feel so exposed as he comes near. His suit is so fine and his hair is so slick, and mine’s a wispy mess. I brush it from my face as he watches. His eyes glint as he pats the table, and I hitch up and onto it, the wood so hard against my ass.

“Lie back, legs up,” he tells me, and I do as he says, grabbing hold of my knees and holding them tight to my chest like I did last night.

He rolls me backward and slips a towel under my ass, and it feels so icky… dirty… like I’m a baby on a changing mat, and he’s about to wipe my dirty bottom…

I wonder if he can see my… see it…

I wonder if he wants to…

He runs his fingers down my thighs, all the way to my pussy, and further. And I know then that he can. He can see everything.

He pulls my ass cheeks apart and it makes me screw my eyes closed, knowing he’s looking at me there… knowing he can see the most private parts of me…

“Relax,” he says. “No secrets from Daddy, remember? I want to see everything, know everything. Every beautiful dirty little part of you.”

I feel heady. Nervous. My throat is dry and my feet are twitchy as he runs his thumb across my asshole. My actual asshole. And it tickles, but it’s a nice tickle.

I don’t know if it should feel this good, but it does… it feels really good.

“Dirty little girls like Daddy’s cock in their ass, Laine.”

He says it so bluntly, his voice so deep and strong. It makes my toes tingle, to think of him… in there…

“Good little girls are lucky because they get it nice and gentle.”

The question rolls off my tongue. “And bad little girls..?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Be good and you won’t have to find out.”

His thumb, back and forth, pressing into my ass, and I like it. I like being a dirty girl.

I open my eyes, and he is fixed between my legs, right where he’s touching. He looks so different like this, so dark and sexy and fierce, so different from the Daddy Nick that makes my lunchbox and strokes my hair at night.

“Wait right here,” he says like that’s necessary.

He picks up the bowl and heads out of view, and I bounce my knees against my chest while I wait. I hear water running, and footsteps, my neck craning for sight of him. Steam rises from the bowl when he comes back into view, and there are those tingles in my toes again, those wings beating in my belly.

I peer down between my thighs as he lathers soap into his hands. They feel so warm as they touch against my pussy, so gentle as he rubs suds all over me. He meets my eyes as he takes the razor.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ll be careful.”

I nod. “I know you will, Daddy.”

It feels so strange, the sensation of the blade against my skin. Long strokes, then short ones, his fingers spreading me open to run the razor between my lips. I trust him so much that it’s easy to relax. I stare in fascination, not fear. Watching him, watching the way he’s so careful and precise, watching the smile on his face as he shaves me bald and makes me so tender.

I flinch as the razor dips between my ass cheeks, and then I giggle for being so silly.

“Nice and smooth,” he says and runs the blade everywhere.

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