CHAPTER HUNDRED AND TWENTY -TWO

SPENCER POV

Wiping Violet sweet pussy is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the ways I want to take care of my little girl. Now I’ve had a taste of her secrets. I only want more. I want everything from her.

 It’s beautiful, her willingness to please me even when she thinks I’m being so icky.

      I love being icky with Violet. Love pushing her boundaries.

      I slide into bed beside her, my cock already hard for more, but it won’t be tonight. She’s taken enough.

      She sighs as she snuggles against me, and I kiss her hair. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

      “Goodnight, Daddy Spencer."

 I’m Daddy Spencer again, but that’s ok. I hold her so tight and she drifts off to sleep so much more quickly than usual. Her breath is quiet but steady, and just being next to her soothes me. I never want to let her go.

 I love my sweet little Violet more than I’d have ever imagined. It’s more than desperation for a life less lonely than the one I’ve been living for so long.

      It’s in her quiet grace. Her sweet smile. Her easy laugh. It’s in the way she’s so kind, the way she cares for me, looks up to me, the way she appreciates everything I do for her.

The way she’s so keen to please me. So keen to be mine.

 I love Violet because her bad start hasn’t made her bitter, or hostile. It hasn’t closed her down to love or made her suspicious. She’s still a sweet, soft soul with a warm heart.

 She’s my beautiful girl. The one bright star on a cloudy night.

I drift off to sleep so soundly in her arms.

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VIOLET POV

I wake up in Daddy Spencer’s arms. No college. No work. It makes me smile to find him still sleeping.

      I’m not a virgin. I’m not a virgin. I’m not a virgin.

      I feel different. Squiggly inside.

      Happy.

      I roll over to face him, and he stirs but doesn’t open his eyes. I stare at him, just because I can. It’s a guilty pleasure, staring without him knowing. Like I’m spying, chasing secret glances.

 He looks so beautiful in the morning light. His dark eyelashes, his perfect shadow of stubble. His strong nose, his cheekbones. His brows are so well shaped, serious, even when he’s sleeping. The light makes the grey at his temples look so fine, just a smattering, and it doesn’t make him look old, not like Maggie Connor thinks. It makes him look so professional.

      “I know you’re staring,” he says, and his eyes open into mine. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

      My heart flutters. “Morning, Daddy Spencer.”

      He doesn’t move and neither do I. We lay still, just staring, and there’s the softest smile on his lips.

      “I haven’t slept in such a long time,” he tells me, and I can believe it. He’s always up so much earlier than me.

      I smile. “It’s relaxing. All warm and snuggly.”

      “It’s a tight fit, this bed.” He stretches out his legs to illustrate, and he’s right, it is a tight fit, but I like it that way. I tell him so and he holds me tighter, squeezes me until I giggle, and then his eyes are serious again. “How do you feel, Violet?”

      “Good,” I say. “Amazing. You made it amazing. Everything I ever dreamed of.”

      “Your kind words do wonders for a man’s ego.”

      But Daddy Spencer doesn’t have an ego. He’s strong, but not arrogant. I know plenty of arrogant people, I’ve known them my whole life, the people that think they know everything, that they’re cooler than everyone, better than everyone. Better than me. I’ve known so many people who think they’re better than me.

      But not Daddy Spencer.

      “Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

      I tell him no, because I don’t want to move, but my tummy betrays me and rumbles.

      “I think you might be a little liar, Violet.” He taps my nose, and I can’t stop laughing. I wonder if it’s some kind of weird post-virginity-losing endorphin thing, because my body feels light enough to float away. He throws back the covers and I groan through the giggles, but he doesn’t care. He kisses my forehead before he drops his feet to the floor, and then he’s up.

 My laughter stops when I see he’s hard. A pang between my legs as I remember how he felt there.

      He grabs his cock as I stare. “You can’t honestly be surprised, sweetheart. I’ve been in bed with a beautiful, delicious young woman.”

      Woman.

      He called me a woman.

      It feels better than I ever thought it would feel.

“Are you getting up with me?” he asks, and I nod. Even though the sheets have embraced me as one of their own, I still want to get up with him. I hold out my hand like a lazy cow as I yawn, and he pulls me up. I can feel the difference when I get to my feet, my pussy so tender, and my legs wobbly.

      “All alright?” he asks. He takes my pink robe from the door and helps me into it.

      “I’m good,” I say. “I’m just… I feel different…”

      “You feel like you’ve been fucked,” he says. “You’ll get used to that, sweetheart.”

  I follow him as he steps out onto the landing, keeping to his side like a shadow. I follow him into the bathroom without a thought, and he smiles a sly smile.

  “Wanting to return the favour?” I look blankly until his smile turns into a smirk. “Daddy needs to take a piss, Violet.” My cheeks burn, and I say I’m sorry, but he grabs my hand. “I didn’t mean you should leave. You don’t need to leave, sweetheart. Not if you don’t want to. No secrets, remember?”

 I’ve never seen a man pee before. The thought excites me, even though it might be icky. I can’t even imagine what Maggie Connor would say.

 He steps over to the toilet and lifts the seat, and his cock is in his hand, still a little hard as he aims at the bowl. I step closer, and my mouth is dry. It feels dirty. Nice dirty.

      The stream comes out so fast when it starts, and it must feel good, because he closes his eyes and lets out a groan. I’m still staring when he opens them, and he’s smirking again. I feel like such a silly idiot, and maybe he knows, because he tips his head and beckons me closer.

      “Don’t be shy,” he tells me.

      He takes my hand and I jump a little as he wraps my fingers around his dick. I’m not expecting him to let go, but he does. His cock jerks and makes me start, and pee sprays off the side of the bowl like crazy. He laughs. “Steady, sweetheart.”

I’m sure this isn’t what other people do, but I’m transfixed. It half makes me want to giggle and half makes my clit tingle, and I’m positive that must make me a dirty girl, not the little prude Maggie Connor has me down for. That makes me strangely proud. Strangely grown up. Maggie Connor tells me everything about her sex life, and there’s never been anything like this. But then again, there’s never been so much of anything Daddy Spencer has shown me. Nobody’s ever put their tongue in Maggie Connor’s asshole and told her how good it tastes. She’d definitely have told me about that. She’d have bragged for a month.

It’s ridiculously fun, aiming for someone else’s pee around the bowl. His cock feels different like this, only half hard. He’s still big and veiny, but less… threatening. I dunno if threatening is the right word, but it’ll do.

The spray eases to a trickle, and then just a drip, and I wonder what I should do next. Maybe shake him, or wipe him? I don’t have a clue. I squeeze him instead, and it takes him by surprise. He grunts, and shifts on his feet, and there’s a thrill right through me as I feel him swell in my grip.

 “Dirty girl,” he says, and I’m beginning to believe it. My pussy clenches and it feels different than usual… tender, and achy, and… horny. I keep squeezing, moving my hand up and down him with the sweetest smile on my face I can manage, and he likes that too. He can’t stop looking at me.

 His hand tightens around mine, and he moves me harder, faster.

      “Want to jerk Daddy off in the bathroom? Is that what my dirty little girl wants?”

      I nod. I do want that.

      I feel more in control than I’ve ever felt around him, wrapped up tight in a fluffy robe while he stands naked, his dick in my hand. I’ve been learning, trying really hard to do it just as he likes it, and it’s working. His breath is fast, and the muscles in his thighs are so tight, his eyes staring at my fingers as they work so hard.

      “That’s so good,” he groans. “That’s really good, Violet.”

      I don’t feel so much like his little girl this morning. I’m a woman, not a prudish little virgin. I’m the one giving him all the pleasure as he thrusts in my grip.

      “You want to make me come? Like this?”

      “Yes.” My voice sounds more confident than usual.

      His eyes meet mine, and I smile but don’t add a please or a Daddy or even a Daddy Spencer. I can tell he’s thinking about it, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything and I take it as some kind of silly victory. I can’t explain why, it just is.

      Not being a virgin anymore has definitely gone to my head.

      I nearly snort giggle at the thought of me in slutty underwear and ridiculously high heels as I morph into some sex siren, but when he arches his back and his cock twitches, everything becomes so serious.

 I’m going to make him come, without his help, without him taking over, or putting it in my mouth, or gripping my fingers and showing me what to do.

  “Fuck, Violet,” he groans. “That’s so fucking nice.”

 My heart swells with pride, knowing I can do this. I’m not such the silly little prude I thought I was.

      My wrist is aching but I don’t slow down, I concentrate on the tip of him, where he’s getting wet, and that makes him grunt and sway and curse. I love the way it makes him curse.

      “Fuck, I’m close,” he tells me, but I already know that, I can feel it in the way his cock jerks, in the rasp of his breath.

  I could explode with joy when the first spurt of cum splatters the cistern. It’s not even close to the bowl, but that doesn’t matter, Daddy Spencer isn’t even looking. His eyes are screwed shut, his voice nothing more than grunts as he spurts again and again.

      I made him come.

      A milestone that seems like such a big deal.

      I can’t stop grinning.

      “You look like the cat who got the cream,” he laughs when he’s gathered his breath. “Well done, sweetheart. That was perfect.”

      Perfect.

      My cheeks tickle from smiling so bright. “Thanks.”

     “I’ll be expecting that kind of treatment every morning, if you’re not careful,” he says, but he’s joking, his eyes sparkle. “Now, let’s go and get you some breakfast, you’ve certainly earned it.”

      He slaps my ass as he passes me by, and grins as he grabs his robe.