Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 43284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
So, imagine my five foot two self in one of those pin-up dresses from the sixties, you know the ones with the polka dots that the women wore cancans underneath or something. Anyway mine’s red with white polka dots, because like daddy knows as he’d proven with the jeep, red is my signature color.
My heels brought me up to about five-five, still nowhere near daddy’s six-four, but good enough. The dress itself seems innocent enough, I mean it comes to my knees and there isn’t an over abundance of cleavage on display, but there’s just something about the cinched waist and the little hidden gathers under my already bountiful tits that makes it a wet dream.
Now that I was paying attention I noticed how sales boy was trying valiantly not to look. That was a good thing because Gabe has been known to threaten a time or two when someone of the opposite sex got too close. I love it, but most of the time it’s just an innocent eye fuck from some random dude that gets his shorts in a twist.
This was going to be different. This time to prove a point of my own, I was going to be the one flirting. What point might that be you ask? That I can have any man I want and I don’t need to play second fiddle to his damn grown ass daughter that he felt the need to treat like a baby.
“Oh everything was just perfect, Stephen is it?” I pretended to have to lean in close to read the name on his tag and of course I stumbled and he had to catch me. We exchanged small talk while I stood as close to this poor man as possible without being inside his pocket.
I didn’t look to see Gabe’s reaction, just kept going while I had the nerve, though halfway through I was starting to question just what the hell I thought I was doing. I didn’t want this, didn’t want him. I just wanted my daddy to love me best.
The slamming of the car door didn’t phase me, but the arm that came around the nape of my neck was a sure sign that I’d gone too far. Damn. “Step the fuck back.” Poor Stephen was swallowing golf balls it looked like after that threatening warning from Gabe.
I was close to laughing until I got a look at his face. “Da…” He actually shook me by my neck, not hard mind you, but enough that I knew he was pissed.
“Get in the fucking car.” I ran to his parked car a few feet away without looking back. Oh shit, what had I done? I don’t know what all was being said, but when I was brave enough to look, poor Stephen was looking pretty well chastened.
Gabriel turned and walked away heading towards me and I was giving serious thought to running. He was there before I made up my mind one way or the other and the fact that he slammed the car in reverse without another word was more than enough of an indication that my ass was in trouble.
Usually I could get behind a good spanking, it had been a while since daddy lit up my ass before giving it to me nice and rough, but somehow this felt different. I kept taking peeks at him out the side of my eye and that tic was just jumping away.
I started and stopped myself a million times from saying anything to him. He wasn’t exactly looking like he was in the mood for conversation. When we reached his house after driving down the long ass driveway I was giving serious thought to hopping out and making a run for it.
“Don’t even think about it. Get your ass inside.”
I couldn’t help myself I just had to have the last word on this one. “Oh, is your precious daughter not home? Am I allowed through the front door?” I think that whatever he’d had planned, I just upped that shit by like a thousand. Now I was the one swallowing golf-balls. I jumped out the car and ran into the house thinking of places to hide. “Shit, fuck, what do I do?”
Chapter 8
GABE
How had the day gone to shit so fast? I thought I was doing a good thing, thought we were finally making progress. Why should she care if I bought my daughter a car, what the fuck did that have to do with anything? Would it make any difference if she knew that hers had been chosen and designed first? Or that at seventeen it was time Crystal had her own car?
Why did she have to make everything into something it wasn’t? “Where the fuck are you?” She wasn’t in the bedroom where I’d expected her to be. That last crack stung because it was true, and more because I thought she understood why things had to be the way they were. Why I couldn’t flaunt the fact that I was fucking her best friend in my daughter’s face.