Their Little Girl Read Free Page B

the way as I cooked breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and toast – Daddy’s favorite.
    Ever since he’d gone through the trouble, a week earlier, of making me a special breakfast for my eighteenth birthday, I’d been trying to think of a way to show my gratitude. That simple act of generosity, and sweetness, was like his way of telling me I was welcome there, even though I was legally an adult, he wasn’t going to shove me out the door to fend for myself.
    I was grateful for that and I wanted him to know it.
    By the time I was nearly done, Daddy entered the kitchen, clearing his throat a bit before I heard the sound of his chair scraping against the floor.
    “Smells amazing, Erica,” he told me as he grabbed his morning paper off the kitchen table, where I’d left it for him when I brought it in. Daddy wasn’t the type to break routine, so I knew he’d read for the next fifteen minutes and then, in an hour or so, he’d be off to work, even though it was a Saturday.
    When the weekend came around, I often wished Daddy didn’t have to work, but I knew when he did, at the very least, I’d be able to get some time alone to watch David’s video.
    Both prospects were promising, if I was being honest.
    As often as I made breakfast, it didn’t take long before the food was done and everything was plated neatly, ready for him to dig in and enjoy. “Breakfast is served, Daddy,” I chimed, sitting his food in front of him with a bright smile.
    I felt rather proud of my work.
    Once the plate was sitting in front of him, Daddy opened his mouth to say thanks, but the only sound I heard was the clatter of silverware hitting the porcelain platter. When I looked up at him, startled, his eyes were on me, his gaze locked somewhere between my tummy and my chin.
    Feeling confused, I looked down to see what he was staring at. I got my answer.
    Oh god!
    Somehow as I was cooking and moving about the kitchen, my robe must had slid open, exposing one of my breasts for all the world to see. My first instinct was to immediately cover myself, but under Daddy’s unwavering gaze, I was frozen in place. Stunned and paralyzed.
    My body suddenly began to react, nipples hardening into stiff peaks, while that familiar fluttering in my belly had somehow evolved into an aching clench that rooted itself deep between my thighs.
    Maybe I should have been embarrassed or ashamed, but there was too much desire in my stepfather’s eyes to feel anything of the sort.
    As if he were lost in thought, Daddy’s hand barely reached out, moving as though he planned to touch me, but then jerked back once he realized what he was doing.
    “I’m sorry,” I apologized, moving quickly to tighten my robe once I’d snapped out of the lust-induced trance I’d been under.
    I couldn’t believe I’d been so naive as to think that he felt the same kind of lust I did.
    “Don’t apologize, sweetie. Never apologize for that. You are so beautiful,” he said kindly, tenderly, but there was a hint of something else in his voice, that strange darkness was back along with something else, something naughty and dangerous.
    “You really think so?” I asked him. “You really think I’m beautiful?”
    “Of course you are,” he whispered, touching my cheek. The moment his skin made contact with mine, I began to wish desperately that he’d touch me somewhere lower, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t going to.
    Feeling defeated, I nodded slightly, giving him a quiet reply of “okay,” but even I could hear the skepticism in my voice.
    “Do you need me to prove it, Erica?” he asked sternly, letting his dark, dangerous side out to play. “Do you want to feel how beautiful I think you are?”
    His voice was so harsh and sexy that I didn’t even consider what he might have meant before I bobbed my head up and down in agreement.
    “Come here, then – sit in Daddy’s lap,” he practically growled, showing me a side of himself that I never dreamed