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“You want me to take a tequila shot with you, Doll?” Doll. I flatten my palms on the bar for balance. Yeah, Daddy. I want you to take a shot with me. Off me. Whatever.
Maybe it’s the way she fucking called me Papi. My blood simmers at the memory. Yeah, Baby Doll, I’ll be your Daddy.
“And you call me whatever name you want, Baby Doll. But I like it when you say Daddy.”
Watching Kendra lick the salt off her shot glass a second time might send me into cardiac arrest. But we all got to die somehow. And death by Brat is okay with me.
I will not think about my dad’s best friend’s chest hair during breakfast.
His lips part. A drip of syrup falls onto his plate. I wish I was that plate.
Luther lays a hand on my dad’s shoulder with a wicked grin aimed my way.
“That’s right, Kendra. I’m your daddy now too.”
“You want that? You want to walk out there with puffy red lips and tear tracks down your cheeks? You want everyone to know what a slutty little Daddy’s girl you are?”
“Luther.”
“When we fuck in this house, you call me Daddy. Now reach back and take my dick out.”
If having a Daddy kink is wrong, I will never be right.
And my gluttonous pussy throbs. If you’re going to fuck me, then feed me, you might as well wife me.
