Page 38 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

Hallie

One Year Later

“You skipped class, little girl?” Jackson asks, looking at where I’m lounging on the bed, rubbing the curve of my belly.

My cheeks heat up immediately, and I drop my head as I say, “I was just tired, Daddy. You said I could take days to rest if I needed them because I’m growing our baby.”

Being with my step-father has been better than I ever dreamed. He makes me feel important, sexy, needed and protected.

Besides that, he’s so hot, I want him inside me constantly and now that I’m pregnant, my hormones are making me hornier than ever.

Thank goodness, my growing body seems to have Jackson craving me more than ever. If the way his erection is constantly throwing down challenges to his zipper is any indication, he’s as horny for me as I am for him.

“No,” he says as he crosses the room. “That’s not what I said. I told you that if you needed a day to rest, you would ask me for permission to stay home.”

Since coming to live with Jackson, I’ve enrolled in school again. He was right when he said all I needed was structure and discipline.

He also said I needed a ring on my finger and his last name, which he made happen about a month after he picked me up at the bus station. He took me on a trip to some tropical island where we said our vows on the beach, he slid a massive pink sapphire and diamond ring on my finger and made me his wife.

While I’ve been good for him, I don’t shy away from making mistakes.

I know I should have asked permission to stay home. It’s not like he’d deny me something I needed. But can you blame me for wanting to push the boundaries every once in a while?

You can take the pout out of the brat, but you can never really take the brat out of the pout.

“You broke one of Daddy’s rules,” he says, his voice dropping to that low register that tells me a punishment is coming and everything down in my belly starts to hum. He unbuckles his belt, a bulge already forming in his pants. “You know what that means.”

A thrill runs through me, and I say, in a small voice, “Am I in trouble, Daddy.”

“Yes,” he replies, dropping his pants and revealing the monster that has become the center of my world and my fantasies. “But you’re not in trouble for resting. Tell Daddy what you’re in trouble for.”

“I’m in trouble for breaking the rules,” I whisper, sticking out my bottom lip.

“What rule did you break, baby?”

He approaches the edge of the bed, his fist gripping the base of his cock so tight I think he’s trying to strangle it. I can’t take my eyes off of him. My mouth waters. My core clenches with want.

“I didn’t ask permission to stay home,” I squeak.

“You didn’t,” he agrees. “On your hands and knees, baby. Crawl to Daddy.”

Obeying is as easy as breathing. I shuffle toward him, my panties getting wetter with each centimeter I move. When I stop in front of his cock, I lick my lips.

“You get ten strikes,” he tells me, grabbing onto the hem of my dress and pulling it up over my ass. “And you’ll suck Daddy off while you get your punishment.”

The moment hangs around us. The only sound in the room is our synched breathing. He holds steady, waiting for me to confirm I understand.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He cups my jaw, pulling me forward with a gentleness I don’t deserve. His thumb presses against my cheek, urging my mouth open. Then, he glides his length between my open lips.

It’s hot and heavy against my tongue. His savory, tangy flavor dances across my tastebuds. I suck greedily, causing him to curse and buck forward, nearly gagging me.

“Just like that, little girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “Since I have that bratty mouth occupied, I’ll count for you.”

I hum my assent, bringing in air when he pulls back. Then, when he thrusts back in, blocking my airway, his hand comes down on my ass.

The sting ripples through me, making my clit ache with need. Precum oozes from his tip, making his taste even headier. I moan, the sensations swirling inside me.