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“Words, little girl. Be a good girl and give me words.”
“Can I suck on you while I go to sleep? The Duchess Demurity always got to use Duke Pemberly like a paci after she got her punishments done. Can I… Can I do that?” she stammers.
Pretty sure every drop of blood in my body floods my cock from one heartbeat to the next. My beloved wants to use my cock as a pacifier to go to sleep? Done.
“Absolutely, be my guest,” I choke out.
Windy’s fingers go to the elastic of my sweats and tug them down over my already straining erection. It’s impossible enough to keep from being hard every moment I spend with her. Throw in her wish to suckle me like a baby bottle and I’d have to be dead for a century to avoid being a lead pipe of throbbing desire.
“Daddy, it’s messy,” she purrs. “I gotta clean it up first.”
Her little tongue pokes out to swipe at the precum dribbling from my tip before she pulls back and makes a face. I hold back the chuckle fighting to burst out of me.
“Don’t like it? You don’t have to suck on it just because you asked to. Everything is your choice. Only your choice.” I might die if she abandons my dick, but she doesn’t need to worry about that part. And yes, I’m fully aware that no one actually dies from blue balls.
“It’s salty, but it’s you. I like it.” She smacks her lips and licks across my tip again. “Yup. I like it a lot.”
Windy grips as far around my girth as she can, right at the base, and angles me toward her lips. She suckles just the tip inside the hot, wet velvet of her mouth and my groan of satisfaction is loud and long.
“Such a good girl. Such a good, good girl,” I praise.
While Windy suckles on me gently, I rub and squeeze her ample backside, enjoying the flex of muscle beneath my palm. Despite the lust coursing through me, I don’t feel the need to orgasm. It’s enough just having this closeness with her. Holding her. Giving her what she needs and knowing that she’s mine.
“I love you so much, little lush. You’re the woman of my dreams. You know that?” I tell myself she heard me as she slips off to sleep, still sucking rhythmically over me.
Sleep’s unlikely for me at this point, but I don’t mind. I’m sharing this bed with my whole world right now, and there’s not a damn thing I would change about it.
EPILOGUE
Four Months Later
Windy
There’s notan empty seat in this enormous stadium tonight. For those of us who traveled from Nebraska for this championship game, the late January Florida weather feels way hotter than we’re prepared for. I swear when we left Nebraska that was snow nearly up to my knees and now we’re all sweating in our shorts and t-shirts. Memories of when Deke and I first got together and I got stuck in an ice bath before he practically threw me into his hot tub replay in my head. The change from freezing cold to steaming hot was a total shock. This weather whiplash, like that one, is worth it.
The University of Mariposa Kings football team is the Vegas-odds favorite to win the championship. Not that Daddy would let me place a bet on it even if I asked in my sweetest voice. Not that I attempted it. More than once anyway. Taryn and Bhodi sit on one side of me. Coach Vanderman, who tells me to call him Paul now that our season’s over and I’m no longer one of his players, is sitting on the other side with his wife, Vera. We’re all in thespecial box reserved for VIPs, which, considering my Daddy-Husband is the head coach of the team that’s about to win the whole championship, I guess we are.
“You know Deke’s gonna be mad if you bite off all your fingernails again,” Taryn whisper-shouts at me. Ever since the injury she faked to lure Director Franklin to try and force her to dope to cure, she and her fiancé, Bhodi have been two of Daddy’s favorite people.
For Taryn, the whole covert-ops-style takedown of the school’s booster-beloved athletic director had been an exciting game. For me it had been nothing but stress and anxiety, even though Deke made sure to keep me out of it as much as possible. I’d bitten my nails to the quick, until they bled, from the worry about what would happen. And then when the events were set into motion and it looked like Taryn had been really hurt on the soccer field, I’d been thrown into a meltdown by the anxious stress of the whole thing.
I tuck my hands under my thighs in hopes that sitting on them will keep me from chewing them. Daddy’s already got a checkmark in the punishment column from when I was a brat this morning about having to stay in the hotel instead of going to the beach. I don’t need to make things worse by breaking the ‘no hurting Daddy’s Girl’ rule.
When there’s only a minute left on the clock, Coach Vanderman—I still have trouble calling him Paul, even though he’s told me to a hundred times—leads me with security down toward the sidelines. Ever since my game in Missouri the weekend he made me his Little girl, Daddy and I have always been on the sidelines at the end of each other’s games. At first it brought a lot of very public attention to our relationship when the media caught on.
“Stay close to me so we can get through the crowds, Windy,” Paul directs me.
It’s hard to listen because all I want to do is rush to Daddy’s side. I force myself to walk slowly and stick with Paul until we’re nearly to the sidelines. The final whistles blow and confetti cannons erupt. The clock’s run down and the Kings have won! They are the champions, just like us girls are the women’s soccer champions!
I bounce on my toes while Deke shakes hands with the all the coaches and players from the Hornets, the team we just beat. Daddy’s players dump sports drinks over his head as soon as he makes it back to our sideline and he’s grinning and slapping high fives and hugging his players even as he eats up the distance between us with his tree trunk legs.
“I knew you’d win, Da—Deke!” I catch myself before I call him Daddy in front of the whole world. We’re not ashamed of what we like, but we also don’t want to be the center of gossip. Been there, done that, when we first went public as a couple. Daddy still grumbles when the media asks me too many questions if they catch me alone in public. He hates the way they crowd close and shove their microphones in my face. I try not to let it get to me, but I can admit it raises my anxiety levels when it happens.
“You know what this means, right, baby?” Daddy’s also careful not to call me his little lush in front of the public, too. It’s funny because it’s ironic when it’s a private joke for just the two of us. Less funny if everyone started thinking I actually am one.
Alcohol was the reason Deke and I met, but I’m still not much of a drinker. The medicine I needed for anxiety isn’t necessary very often these days. Not with Deke helping me cope with the stressful parts of being grown-up and giving me a safe space to relax and be decision free. So even though I could safely have alcohol nowadays, there’s just no reason to.
All the best feelings in the world come from being with Deke. No slushy cocktail with a fancy umbrella can be better thanhaving his arms wrapped around me like they are right now. Even cold, wet, and sticky from the sports drinks dumped all over him.
