Daddy Knows Best (2 page)

With a groan I relented and reached for my cock. In my deviant mind Georgia was reclining on her bed, head lolling back against frilly white pillows, blonde curls splayed like a golden halo. Her legs were spread wide, nightdress hitched around her waist as her glitter pink nails diddled her sweet clit. She’d look at me through hooded eyes, breathing hard and fast. And then she’d say the words; words I should never hear but fuck, they’d sound so fucking sweet.
Fuck me, Daddy, please. Please, Daddy, give it to me.
Jesus Christ. My cock leapt in my hand, jerking and twitching and pulsing into oblivion. White hot release shot through my balls until I was a wreck, a grunting hulk of sin, cumming like a train.
Dirty girl, so fucking dirty.

I caught my breath, fists clenched in frustration. The forbidden fruit always tastes so fucking juicy. Hell don’t I know it. I’ve been filth my whole life.

I slung a towel around my shoulders, stopping at the sink to brush my teeth. I wiped a streak in the steam on the mirror, ready to meet the eyes of the dirty, rotten beast who’d shot his load over stepdaughter pussy, but instead I saw beyond. Beyond to the crack of light in the doorway and the flash of blonde hair stumbling through my bedroom.

Shit.

***

Georgia was fragile in the morning. She was waspier than usual, scowling at me as I fried up egg and bacon.

“Do you have to cook right now?” she snapped. “I think I’m gonna barf.”

I pushed down my indignation, turning to face her with spatula in hand. “Did nobody ever teach you manners, or are you simply this obnoxious by choice?”

“I feel sick and you’re cooking dead pig in front of me, it’s
you
who has bad manners.”

“It’s called making breakfast. A totally normal occurrence in a kitchen last time I checked. Clear off if you don’t like it.”

She made no attempt to move while I dished up my food, granting me just a cursory glance as I took a seat opposite. Angry fingers jabbed at her mobile as it buzzed and flashed in her hand.

“Have you made up with your friends?”

“They’re not my friends. I don’t give a shit about them.”

“That’s not how it appeared last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was drunk,” she groaned. “Fuck those losers, anyway. I need some cash. Fifty should do.”

“What for?”

“None of your business.”

“Fine, then it’s not my business to give you any.”

She didn’t even look up. “You’re supposed to be taking care of me, aren’t you? Dads give their daughter’s money, so cough up.”

“Dads give their daughters whatever they deserve. All you deserve is a tanned fucking backside, sweetheart, Maybe I should cough one of those up instead.”

Blue eyes finally met mine. There was long moment of silence as she stared across at me. Her mouth was still set in an angry little pout, but her demeanour had shifted. Her words from the night before echoed around my brain.
Maybe I hope one day someone cares enough to stop me...cares enough to put me in my place and make me behave.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said. “I’m twenty years old.”

“Try me,” I goaded. “You’re never too old for the belt, princess. It made a fine man out of me.”

“Yeah, sure it did. A real fine man,
Daddy
.”

“Watch your mouth, Georgia.”

She laughed, a bitchy little cackle. I felt my hackles rise, the urge to put the snotty little bitch over my knee threatening to boil over.

“I don’t need your money anyway. I’ll get some from Mikey, he’s picking me up this afternoon.”

“The same Mikey who’s dating someone else? Some other darling instead of you?” I said. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t give a fuck about him, do you?”

She folded her arms, eyes like thunder. “I don’t actually. I’m using him for sex, and the sex will be a lot better now he owes me. He wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend to find out he’s been fucking my tight little ass, would he? He works for her father in some posh gig down Piccadilly Circus. My silence will be worth even more to him than my pussy.”

“You’re a classy girl, Georgia, you know that?”

“It’s not a crime to enjoy sex, Andrew. And I’ve seen your internet browsing history. You’re not all that classy yourself.”

My blood turned to stone, seizing my fists into rocks. “You’ve been on my laptop?”

A sly grin lit up her face. “It was enlightening. What a big, bad boy you are, Andrew Priestley. Not quite so Priestley, are you?”

“What the fuck were you looking at?”

“Aww, did I make you angry? Shame.” She turned her attention back to her phone, still grinning. My mind whirred, speeding through the contents of my laptop, the scanned paperwork in my documents folder. Embarrassment burned like a motherfucker, burned me up with the thought of what she’d found in there. The thought of her laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at my misfortune. Did she laugh with her friends? Laugh at what a stinking loser Andrew Priestley really was. Laughing about my dirty little secret.

I overloaded without warning, striking like a cobra to wrench her from her seat. Her phone clattered to the floor, and her eyes flew wide and wild, mouth open. I didn’t give her time to fight me, twisting her wrist behind her back and slamming her chest down on the table top.

“You’ve pushed it too far this time, Georgia, too fucking far. You think I was joking about the belt? Think I’m a fucking joke, do you? Is that it? It’s time you learned some fucking manners, little girl.”

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Andrew, what the hell are you doing?!”

I pinned her hard, my chest against her back. Her body was so small, crushed under my weight so tight I could feel her breathing.

“You asked for this, sweetheart, you’ve been asking for this every fucking day I’ve known you.” I stood up, pressing hard between her shoulder blades to keep her in position. “Don’t you dare move, Georgia Tate, don’t you fucking dare.”

She wrenched her head around to face me, a picture postcard of shock. Her face had turned white, eyebrows high on her head in frozen animation. She didn’t make a sound as I loosened my belt, not a single fucking sound. I looped the leather in two, tested it hard against my hand. Georgia flinched at the thwack, and underneath my rage the lust uncoiled, stretching a path right the way along my spine. I hitched the soft white cotton of her nightdress, sucking in breath at the beauty of her ass. She was perfectly formed, milk-white flesh goose-pimpling before my eyes. She flinched again as I hooked my fingers inside her lacy pink thong, gasping as I slid the scrap of fabric all the way down her thighs. She clenched her legs together, but not in time to hide her modesty. Her pretty little pussy had bared its lips, promising me the tightest of wet kisses. Fuck. I was hard. Fucking hard and fucking angry. I stood in no man’s land, fighting for composure, struggling to back the fuck down and get out of there, out of the fucking craziness. I took a step back, letting the belt hang limp against my thigh.

Georgia didn’t move.

She didn’t move a muscle.

Finally her voice peeped up, thin and wispy in the quiet. “Andrew...”

“Shut up,” I barked. “For once in your life, just shut the fuck up.” My dick pulsed in my jeans, thrumming with the need for brutality, the need to punish.

She arched her back, shimmering blonde curls under the kitchen spotlights. “Andrew...
Daddy
...”

“SHUT UP!” I could feel my pulse in my temples, rushing with adrenaline. “You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you.”

She turned her head again, slowly this time. I saw her lips move without sound, the quietest utterance. I moved closer, straining to hear her fucking apology.

But there was no apology.

“Please...” she whispered, so softly it was like a breath. “Do it.”

I nearly buckled on the spot, nearly shot my hot fucking load in my jeans. Her big, wide eyes, her tight little mouth. “Apologise,” I barked. “Final chance.”

She shook her head, then turned away, pressing her face to the table top. She moved her arms out of the way, her hands flat to the wood. I saw the muscles in her legs tense, the soft globes of her ass bracing themselves for punishment.

I closed the distance between us, standing tall at her side. “You’re a very, very bad girl, Georgia Tate. Apologise now or I’ll show you what happens to bad girls.” Her breath was shallow and frantic, but she didn’t move a muscle. “Last chance, Georgia.” I pressed my hand onto the small of her back, and she gasped, shifting from foot to foot. “Stay still.”

“Yes, Andrew...” she murmured.

My dick jerked in my jeans, swollen enough to fucking burst, and I gave in, gave in to the whole fucking lot of it. Every dirty thought, every wet fucking dream, every single time I’d jerked off over her.

“
Daddy
,” I said. “You’ll call me Daddy.”

I felt her shiver, her breath catching in her throat. I waited, soaking in the silence, waited until she choked out the words.

“Yes...
Daddy...
” she whimpered. “Please...”

I groaned as I swung the belt, bringing it down hard against virgin flesh. She wriggled like a fish, squealing in shock and pain. “This is what happens to sneaky, dirty girls in this house,” I grunted. “You’ll be good from now on, Georgia Tate. Really fucking good.”

“Ow!” she wailed. “Ow, Daddy, Ow!”

I hit her so fucking hard, over and over, lashing her with vicious bites of leather until she tried to scrabble away. I pulled her back into position calmly. “Take your punishment like a good girl,” I hissed. “Take it all.”

Her knees locked together, her breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy!” she cried. Her pain-filled sob was the sweetest fucking sound I’d ever heard.

I stroked her hair, teasing her curls in my fingers. “Let Daddy teach you, like a good girl.”

I landed a vicious stroke on the thighs, and her soft whimper was music to my filthy ears. It spurred me on all the more, savaging her soft flesh with hard, loud thwacks. I beat her ass red raw, raw enough that she was shaking with adrenaline, twitching at every blow. I stopped only when breathless, surveying the damage. The girl was broken, sobbing against the table, and yet she hadn’t moved from me. “Have you learnt your lesson now, Georgia?”

She nodded, gulping in air. I dropped the belt to run my fingers down the rosy welts on her ass. “So sore,” I whispered. “You’ll remember this, won’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I wandered my touch down her thighs, tracing the pink patterns over her skin. She shifted her legs apart, offering me passage to the dainty folds of her cunt. She was glistening wet, and the scent of her bludgeoned my senses, pounding through my brain. I pressed my thumb against her hungry slit, sinking inside her.

“Please,” she murmured. “Please.”

“Is this what you need, dirty girl?” I ground my crotch against her ass and she rolled her hips like a seasoned whore. “I knew you were a filthy little cock dolly. How many men have been in this tight little snatch, Georgia?”

“I don’t know,” she wheezed. “Some...”

“Don’t make me pick up that belt,” I hissed. “How many, Georgia?”

“Thirty... forty... I dunno.”

“Forty?”

“I love sex, Andrew. I
need
sex. It’s all I think about.”

I took a handful of curls, twisted her head to face me. “What did you call me?”

“Sorry,
Daddy
,” she smiled. “I love cock,
Daddy.
I want yours.”

We both startled as her phone screeched from the floor. It whirred around, vibrating in noisy little circles around the tiles. Caller display punched me hard in the groin, crushing my excitement in a vice of pain.
Mother.

“Shit,” Georgia said. “Mother bitch calling. Impeccable timing.”

I backed away as reality crashed down.
What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck, you stupid horny sonofabitch? What the fuck?

Georgia kicked the handset away, reaching around to finger her clit. “Where were we, Daddy?”

I retreated to the sink, dowsing my face with cold water. “Enough,” I said. “This was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t,” she said. “You want me, I know it.”

“This is fucked up. Really fucked up.”

“So?” she snapped, eyes wide and angry. “Nobody has to know.”

“We’ll know,” I said. “
I’ll
know.”

“I’m not a baby!” she hissed. “I’m a grown woman, I can fuck who I like!”

“Watch your mouth,” I snarled. “Or I really will pick that belt back up.”

“Good,” she pouted. “And after that you can fuck me. I know you’ll fuck me hard, Daddy. I think about it every night.”

“Stop,” I said. “Just stop.”

“Why?!”

I groaned in frustration, balls aching like a bastard. “This is so fucking wrong.”

“I
like
wrong,” she said. “And so do you. I know it.”