I'm all yours daddy
Not with anyone.
By evening, I was back home for the weekend, feigning a smile at dinner as Mom droned on about her book club. Daddy sat across from me, his foot occasionally brushing mine under the table, sending sparks up my leg. His eyes met mine, dark with promise, and I felt myself getting wet despite the anger simmering inside. "How was your day, Isabella?" he asked, his voice casual, but I caught the undertone the one that said he was already thinking about later.