Step-Santa (Wanting What’s Wrong #7) Read Online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Mafia, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Wanting What's Wrong Series by Dani Wyatt
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
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God, this girl.

I pull her onto my lap, placing the donut back on her plate. When I bring my sugar covered fingers on her lips, she greedily sucks them into her mouth, licking them clean. If I’ll have to use sex to make her eat as eagerly as she’s licking the sugar out of my fingers, so be it. Be my guest, my little honeysuckle.

I slide my other hand between her legs under her tights and take my fingers out of her lips. She places her head on my shoulder, squirming on my lap, rubbing my hard on with her ass.

“Eat,” I whisper to her ear, giving her already wet pussy a good rub from slit to clit.

“Papa,” she moans and picks up her half-eaten donut between her thumb and finger and takes a massive bite.

“Keep eating. Soon you’ll connecting this pleasure…” I rub her clit in a hard circle as her body melts against me, “with this pleasure.” I put the donut to her lips and she takes a bite without hesitation. I keep at it until she’s chewing and swallowing and shaking with a shuddering orgasm. It will take time, but I’ll retrain her brain to understand and I’ll enjoy every moment.

I kiss her forehead, push the dish towards her and steal just one as I hear Lucy and Sully coming down the hall with Mama’s voice ranting about the variegated poinsettias Lucy has put all over the house.

“I’ll be back.” I settle her quivering back on the other chair as I rush back to my room, taking the stairs two at a time and dress in my Santa suit as I always do for Christmas morning.

We all gather in the great room with its twelve foot tree and I start the fire while Mama lights the candles and sets out sugar cookies and more of that fucking God-awful Lambrusco.

Carina is like a little girl, tearing open wrapping paper with such excitement it makes me laugh. I try to turn it into a “ho, ho, ho” to maintain the illusion. I’m not sure if it works.

The next two hours are filled with laughter and torn paper and broken ribbons and giving was never so sweet.

Mama waddles off to see about more Lambrusco and restart her three tenors Christmas album as Lucy and Sully sneak off.

There’s a stab of something in my heart as they go, but I know it’s time. Time for both my girls to grow up.

At least a little.

“One more,” I say handing Carina a small box once we are alone. She flips it open with that little girl awe I remember from when she was a child staring at the ballerina necklace, diamonds sparkling almost as bright as her eyes.

“It’s too much.” She tries but she’s already reaching up to pull her hair aside so I can put it around her neck.

“Nothing is too much for you.” I reach into the back pocket of my Santa suit and hand her the tiny envelope with a single ticket inside. “I lied, one more.”

“Fuck, Papa, enough,” she mutters to herself, and I smile the muscles in my face getting sore from overuse.

She tears open the envelope. “Is this really… This isn’t a joke, right?”

She looks up into my eyes, and I shake my head. “No joke. You asked for it, you get it. As many lessons as you need to get your pilot license.”

“W…when is my first lesson?”

She turns the ticket around in her hands, but I wrote it myself. There’s no restriction, because I’m going to pay for all the lessons she needs. If she wants to fly, that’s what she’s going to get. Although, she doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to be there for every fucking lesson.

No way I’m letting my baby girl up in the air without me.

I make a dramatic show of pulling back my oversize Santa sleeve to look at my watch, making her giggle, then meet her eyes. “Now. If you like.”

The airfield comes into view as I steer the Range Rover down the entry to the small airport, a haven of low hangars and control buildings against the backdrop of snow-capped wooded mountains. The single runway is a dark ribbon, meticulously cleared of snow even today.

Carina is grinning as we climb out of the cab and head for the hanger where her instructor is waiting. The place is decorated for Christmas, with festive red and green ribbons visible in the buildings as we pass.

“Don Sabato, over here!” I recognize the voice well, older now than I remember, but then aren’t we all? Valentina retired from official duties, but she’s the best pilot I know and now has her instructor’s license. She grins as we turn and walk towards her. “Little Carina Sabato. You’ve grown.”

Carina shakes her head, eyes wide and Valentina laughs, looking at me.


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