CHAPTER HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

SPENCER POV

Our routine is blissful, Violet’s and mine. Pulling free from her arms in the morning to shower and cook her up some breakfast. Dropping her at college and kissing her hair and telling her to have a nice day. Her sweet voice at lunchtime, our telephone call like clockwork, one on the dot. Her joyful recounting of her day when I picked her up. The quiet beauty of her completing her assignments at the dinner table.

      Our evening meal. Our gentle conversations.

      The chores she’s taken up naturally. Loading the dishwasher after our meal. Setting the table for the next. Dropping her clothes in the laundry hamper. Fastening up my cufflinks with a smile.

 Violet is everything I could have wished for. She’s straight from my dreams.

      And she’s mine.

      All mine.

My innocent, perfect little girl.

      But there’s a dirtiness behind her sexual naivety. A naughty little girl behind her angel eyes.

 It’s in the way she wriggles and squirms and moans for my tongue, for my kisses, for my dirty fingers in her ass. She begs like she’s wanton and starved, and it’s a balm to my filthy soul, taking all of my restraint not to spear her tight little virgin pussy whenever she’s spread underneath me. She takes everything Daddy gives her, and still her ass grinds against my cock in the night, wanting more. Always wanting more.

      And tonight’s the night she’s going to get it.

      Friday night was always my plan. An unexpected surprise for my sweetheart after a long week at college.

      She’s none the wiser as I collect her from the college gates, telling me all about her day as she piles into the passenger seat. Maggie Connor this, and Maggie Connor that. Always that cow Maggie Connor.

I say nothing tonight, just smile softly until she realises I’m quieter than usual.

“What is it, Daddy?” Her eyes are so adoringly worried.

“I’m taking you out,” I tell her. “Anywhere you want to go. My treat.”

 Her grin is magical. “Our for dinner?”

 I nod. “Anywhere you want to go.”

      I can feel her stewing, contemplating her options, and I know her well enough by now to know she’s wondering what I want to do, where I’d like to eat.

  “Where you want to go, Violet,” I tell her. “We’ll go where I want to go on a different night.”

 “Okay,” she says, and I feel her eyes on me. I know the smile on her lips, the hint of devilment. “Milkshake and a burger. Fries, too.”

I knew it. I laugh as I tell her as much.

 “A drive through!” she expands. “Oh please, Daddy Spencer, can we go to a drive through?”

 “And eat greasy fries in our lovely clean car?”

      She nods. “Please, please, please!”

      “If that’s what you want.”

      She grins, bounces in her seat. “It is! It’s exactly what I want!”

      “Then a drive through it is,” I tell her.

I make her do her homework before we head out to eat, and there’s a thrill of excitement in her smile which makes me both so happy and sad in parallel. Such a simple pleasure, and yet it means so much to my sweet Violet.

      She skips out to the car when I tell her it’s time to go. Her cheeks are flushed and her smile is bright.

      “I’m so looking forward to this,” she tells me as she buckles herself in.

      “So, what’s on the Violet menu for this evening? Burger, fries, milkshake? How about some of those chicken nuggets on the side?”

      She nods. “And an apple pie, too? Please can we have an apple pie?”

      “We can have whatever you want, sweetheart. Ten apple pies if you like.”

      She lets out a squeal. “A large milkshake! Maybe even two!”

      “And large fries, extra large fries. Double fries. Fries on fries.”

      She laughs. “And what will you have?”

      I shrug. “I don’t usually eat fast food, I’ll take your guidance.”

      “Don’t worry, Daddy Spencer,” she giggles. “I’ll help you out.”      

She does help me out, leaning across me to reach the drive through intercom and dishing out the order. Her hand rests on my thigh and my cock strains as she lets them know we want extra everything, and she doesn’t want gherkins on her burger and neither do I.

      She claps her hands as I ease the car towards the collection point.

      “Thank you,” she says. “You have no idea how much I love this stuff.”

      “I’m getting the picture. We can do this every weekend, if you love it so much.”

      Her eyes widened. “Every weekend? Seriously?”

      “Seriously. If you’re a good girl.”

      She lurches from her seat and wraps her arms around my neck, as though I’ve just proposed marriage. My stomach lurches and my dick twitches and there’s a glorious pang in my heart.

      “Thank you, Daddy Spencer.”

 I squeeze her knee as we reach the collection window. “It’s just a bit of fast food, Violet. I have so many amazing pleasures to show you, I promise. We’ll do it all, sweetheart. Everything. Fast food will be the last thing on your to-do list.”

  I pass her the tray of food and thank and pay the attendant, and then I park up in the carpark as Violet instructs, and I genuinely have no idea why we didn’t just eat in. I told her so.

      “It’s different in the car,” she tells me.

      “How so?”

      She shrugs, her fingers busy sorting out our order. “Because a drive through is… cooler…”

      “Cooler?”

      “Yeah, more… I dunno…”

      I laugh as a couple of fries spill between her knees and land in the footwell. “More messy?”

      She giggles. “Well, yeah. That too. But it’s magical, getting your order and eating it on your lap in the car.”

      I’m not sure I see the magic in getting grease all over your dashboard, but I smile regardless. “Did you do this with your mum?”

 She shakes her head. “With a couple of her boyfriends, when it was all new. You know how it goes. The new guy wants to impress the kid, takes the family out for burgers, and reads a bedtime story. Gets bored after a week and sends the kid to bed early every night until they get bored of the mum too and vanish into the horizon forever.”

 I don’t know how it goes. I don’t know at all. “That’s rough, Violet.” 

“It’s alright,” she says. “I did ok. I had it pretty good, loads of other kids have it way worse.”

 I keep quiet, unwrapping the thing that could only loosely be described as a burger and contemplating how she can possibly find so much pleasure in this.

She gives a delightful groan as she bites into hers, a look of bliss on her face that I hope I’ll remember forever.

      “Good?” I ask.

 More groans. She nods her head, chews then swallows. “Better than good. Amazing.”

 I bite into mine. It’s actually not that bad, if you like the taste of processed plastic. Her eyes question me, and I haven’t the heart to tell her so. “Good,” I say, and she laughs. It’s raw and real and beautiful.

      “Liar!”

 I hold up my hands. “Really, it’s good,” I lied again.

 Her eyes sparkle. She hands me my milkshake. “Try this. You’ll like this.”

It’s thick and slurpy. More sugar than substance.

  “So?” she prompts. “It’s good, right?”

  I tip my head. “It’s better than the burger.”

      “I love milkshakes. It’s the best.”

I can’t resist, not when I see her hollow cheeks as she sucks in rapture, her eyelashes fluttering as she takes a greedy mouthful.

 “I’m glad you think so,” I tell her. “Because Daddy’s got a milkshake of his own to give you later.”

I try to keep my face impassive, try to stay stern, and serious, but her wide eyes tickle me. I laugh. Properly laugh, right from the belly.

 “Gross,” she says, but she’s laughing, too, and it feels so good to let it all out, to see humour in a world that used to be so grey.

      I feel alive again.

      It dries up slowly, a soft giggle as she turns her attention back to her meal, and I’m staring at her, all thought of food long gone.

      “Tonight,” I tell her, and it takes her a moment to register my intention.

      “Tonight? Really?!”

      I nod. “Really. Home just as soon as we’ve finished.”

      She pauses, a fry halfway to her mouth, then drops it back in the carton and bundles the food back in the paper bag as I watch.

      “Finish your dinner,” I say. “There’s no rush, sweetheart.”

 But she doesn’t stop. Not until it’s all away.     

She takes my hand. Squeezes my greasy fingers with hers. “Please let’s go home, Daddy. I’m not hungry anymore.”