That’s fine with me. I will enjoy eating her to orgasm as often as she needs. And spanking her frequently won’t hurt my feelings a bit, either.
I’m in heaven.
Chapter 14
Simone
* * *
Why does my bottom hurt? I whimper as I wiggle my sore ass against Daddy’s…
Suddenly, I flip over and face him.
He’s smiling as he reaches up to tuck my hair away from my face. “Did I startle you?”
I shake my head. “No. I… I couldn’t remember why my ass was hurting.”
He lifts a brow. “Did you use a naughty word?”
I roll my eyes. “What are you going to do, spank me?”
“Oh, Simone, you naughty Little girl. I don’t think you want to use that tone with Daddy. You should probably not roll those sassy eyes either.”
“I’m kind of used to it. I’ve been sassing you for years.”
“Well, the rules just changed, so you’re going to need to adjust your attitude.”
“You can’t just change the rules all at once and expect me to fall in line,” I say, pushing all his buttons. I can’t help myself. I want to know what this man is going to do when I provoke him.
I hope he doesn’t relent. I don’t want him to. But there’s little fear of that. He’s not the sort to cave.
His chuckle makes the hairs stand up on my arms. It’s ominous. He strokes another hair from my cheek and then drags his finger across my brow and down to tap my nose. “Oh, my precious girl. The next few days are going to be very hard on you.”
“You’re going to spank me a lot?”
He laughs. “I doubt I’ll spank you at all. You enjoy it far too much. Spanking is henceforth reserved for when you’re very well-behaved.”
I gasp. “That’s not how Jameson does it.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. I know better, but it’s like I can’t help myself.
“Do I look like Jameson?”
“No, Sir.” I think it’s time to rein in some of my sass.
“Do you look like Natasha?”
“No, Sir.”
“Does Natasha like having her naughty bottom spanked?”
“No, Sir.” Natasha doesn’t like to break any rules at all. She likes it when Jameson calls her good girl. I do, too, but my naughty side is very strong. I might not hear a lot of good girls in the near future.
Daddy lifts my hand between us and examines it. “It’s only been a few weeks since classes ended. Wasn’t your hand sore from writing so many essays for your final exams?”
I have no idea where he’s going with this, but I love it when he stumps me. “Yes, Daddy. It was sore.”
“Guess you better do some flexing exercises to prepare for all the lines you’ll be writing.”
I push out my lip in a pout.
