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Jesus. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then I finally readjusted my cock in my pants. It didn’t help much. The strain against the zipper almost had me groaning. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making any embarrassing noises in the middle of Kay’s Diner. Then I refocused my attention on the mischievous little girl seated across from me. I strongly suspected she knew about my predicament and was delighting in making it worse.
But two could play at this game, and I intended to win.
“If you can’t control the naughty thoughts you’re having, baby girl, the thoughts that are making your privates so achy, you’ll end up making a mess in your panties.”
Her eyes went wide, and she gasped just as Kay returned with our coffee. We both fell silent as Kay set the drinks on the table, winked at us, and sashayed away while humming a show tune I couldn’t quite place. I had no doubt the whole town would be talking about my date with Gemma by lunchtime, but I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter.
So what if they talked? I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Sure, a few eyebrows might raise over the age difference between us, but it's not as though anyone would have a clue that I was her daddy.
Her daddy.
I couldn’t stop envisioning myself as her daddy.
I wanted to see her again. Soon.
Hell, I wanted this date to last all day. Into the night, even.
The prospect of falling asleep with sweet little Gemma nestled in my arms filled me with longing.
But no. She was new to the lifestyle. Had never really experienced it before. But she wouldn’t stop flushing or squirming, and she’d already admitted that she’d grown achy between her thighs.
If I reached a hand under her skirt and ran a finger over the crotch of her panties, would I discover she’d already soaked through the undergarment?
Heated waves of desire swept over me as I imagined peeling down her panties to find a large wet spot, her nether lips gleaming pink with her arousal.
She poured a small amount of cream into her coffee, added two packets of sugar, and stirred. But when she lifted the spoon from her cup, she held my gaze as she suggestively licked it.
I gave her my sternest look. “Might I remind you that we’re in public? In a family restaurant, no less. If you weremybaby girl, Gemma, I would march you out to the truck and smack your bottom a few times.” I plucked the spoon from her hand. “I’m confiscating this since you can’t behave yourself, young lady.”
She gave me a sassy look that made my palm twitch, but before either of us could speak, Kay bustled over with our pancakes.
“Here you go, folks. And just in time, it would seem. You both look famished.”
CHAPTER7
GEMMA
I couldn’t stop replayingDerek’s words.
If you were my baby girl, Gemma, I would march you out to the truck and smack your bottom a few times.
I snuck a peek at his large hands. Oh yeah. I bet he could really spank a bottom with those big sexy daddy hands. A thrill rushed through me, and a fresh ache pulsed in my nether region.
We ate our pancakes in silence, though our eyes kept meeting. And every time we looked at one another, my pulse spiked, and I had trouble breathing.
Eventually, the diner cleared out. Only two patrons remained, an elderly couple who were seated in the far corner of the restaurant. Kay refilled our coffee cups and then disappeared into the back, and the other servers weren’t anywhere to be seen either.
Taking advantage of our solitude, I added more cream and sugar to my coffee before boldly snatching my stolen spoon back. I stirred the coffee and then made an elaborate show of defiling the utensil with my tongue. All this as Derek watched with an increasingly stern glint in those sexy blue eyes of his.
“That’s twice now. If you were my baby girl,” he said in an ominous tone that made my tummy flutter, “you’d get a quick spanking in the truck and then another one—a much longer, harder one—once we got home. Suffice it to say, you’d end up with a very sore, very red little bottom by the time I was finished meting out your punishment.”
“Is that so?”Daddy. I really wanted to call him Daddy, but it didn’t quite feel so bold yet. Sure, he kept calling me little girl and baby girl, but that was different. At least I thought it was. Calling him Daddy seemed more intimate, and I didn’t want to use the title without a firm invitation.
“Yes, that’s so,” he said in a scolding tone. “Now straighten up, young lady. Behave yourself. Don’t make me tell you again.”
I twirled the spoon from hand to hand and almost dropped it a few times, which of course earned me a very stern look from my handsome landlord who just so happened to be knowledgeable about littles and daddies.
Was he in the lifestyle?
