Jackson #3
When I finally pull out, she takes a long inhale, swiping the back of her hand over her lips as I do my best to tuck my still hard inches into my pants and zip up, clinking my belt back just as she falls forward.
I catch her under the arms and lift her to her feet.
She fits into the line of me like this is exactly where we’re meant to be.
Probably because this is where we’re supposed to be.
Her lips are stretched, face fire engine red, her pulse is racing but her eyes are watery and unfocused. I tuck her against me, her legs wobbly but following my forward motion as I head for the kitchen.
“Water,” I say, because care is the other half of discipline. She’s mine to care for, and I intend to do it well.
I steady her on her feet, keeping my arm around her as I guide us to the sink. With my free hand, I fill a glass until it’s full of cold water then bring it to her mouth, “Drink, baby, not because I want to wash my flavor away, but because it’s what you need.”
She obeys, taking long pulls from the cup. A bead of liquid slips at the corner of her lip. I let go to wipe it away.
Her smile returns when I take the water away. Even now, she exudes mischief. “You’re very bossy.”
“Under my roof,” I murmur, “you’ll learn to love it. You enjoyed that didn’t you?”
She makes a satisfied little sound and a nod as she drinks more water. It threatens to ruin me. I breathe in and choose the next move.
“Bed,” I say. She needs to be well-rested for what I have planned.
Her eyebrow twitches as she asks, “Which bed?”
“Mine.”
We move down the hall with my palm a steady weight at the small of her back, her tits still exposed and so cute the way they bounce and jiggle with each step.
Her fingers are curl in my shirt, holding onto me like she needs me to keep her steady.
The storm softens at the windows, the thunder rolling as if to help lull us into sleep.
When we get to the door, she pauses at the threshold. She hesitates, remembering the rules from when she was a bratty teen. But she’s not anymore. She’s my little girl.
“Go on,” I say, shifting my touch between her shoulders.
She steps forward, and I follow. Her gaze lands on the bed, the comforter, the plush pillows. Then, she looks down at her clothes. With a bit of shame, she says, “I don’t have pajamas.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I say, rubbing her back gently before stepping toward the wardrobe. “You’ll wear Daddy’s clothes to bed.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she says, the exhaustion leaking into her voice. She doesn’t even have it in her to be defiant.
I pull out a shirt, one that I know will show off her pretty thighs. When I pass it to her, she thanks me again. Then, she stands there, looking down at the garment.
“Let me help you,” I say, taking it back and setting it on the mattress. Slipping her shirt off her shoulders dropping it to the floor beside us.
I take off her bra. As I slide it off her body, her breath hitches, but she doesn’t hide from me.
“Beautiful, baby,” I praise when I see her round breasts and perky little nipples for the first time. “My perfect little girl.”
She blushes hard, the color going all the way down to her chest. I kiss her forehead gently before hooking my thumbs in the waistband of her pants and pulling them, along with her underwear off.
Without me having to instruct her, she steps out of them but fuck, I want in that sweet little pussy so fucking bad.
She’s got just this tiny bit of curls on the front just above where her lips split and they’re fucking soaked, glistening in the low light and her scent races through me like a freight train.
“Good girl,” I say before sliding her into my shirt praying I can keep from mounting her in her fucking sleep. “Now, get in bed.”
I guide her to the bed, my room never feeling as comfortable or like home as it does right now with her in it, pulling the comforter back.
She slides in, her big eyes watching me with implicit trust. As I tuck her in, I brush her wild hair away from her face.
When I give her a kiss on her forehead, she blinks up at me.
“Sleep,” I tell her as I cross to the other side of the bed to join her.
“Will I be in trouble a lot?” She asks as the mattress dips, causing her to roll into my side. It’s almost teasing, almost hopeful.
“If you need to be,” I work myself next to her, tucking her to my chest as my heart beats like a fucking drum.
My mouth finds her temple, and I kiss the warm flesh there, breathing her into my lungs.
I want her everywhere. “You’ll be praised more than punished because I know you are deep down a very good girl. ”
Her answer is a drowsy hum. She tucks herself closer, draping her knee over my thigh as my shaft stiffens and elongates again against my zipper
I stay awake a while, counting the ways I’ll make good on what I said but also knowing I’m going to be fucking my daughter rotten tomorrow.
But, for tonight, talking myself out of spreading her thighs and having a little daddy daughter mid-night snack is the best I can do.
She needs protection and structure. I need to provide the kind of ownership I can live with when I look in a mirror.
“You belong to me now,” I tell her sleeping form. “And Daddy takes care of what’s his.”