Dirty Daddies Page 14

  I hate the way her words make my balls tighten.

  This isn’t me.

  None of this is me.

  But it is.

  I feel more like me than I’ve felt in years, as though the perfect shell of monotony is cracking and falling away before my eyes.

  “Say sorry,” I tell her, and she stares up at me with piercing eyes.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” she hisses.

  How I’d love to drop my pants and stick my swollen cock down her throat. How I’d love to hear her squeal with her mouth full. I don’t recognise the thoughts in my head, and I don’t recognise Jack, either.

  I’ve known the man for a lifetime and I’ve never seen this side of him. I’ve never seen his jaw gritted in the way it is now. I’ve never seen the sternness in his eyes as he administers a lesson to a girl who so desperately needs it.

  I never thought for a second I’d want to jerk my cock in front of a man I’ve known since we were boys. I never thought for a second we’d be queuing up to spank the same crazy girl.

  “Be glad this is my hand,” Jack snarls. “Back in my day you got the fucking belt.”

  I see her shiver, but more than that I see the way she spreads her thighs open.

  Fuck.

  The girl wants him.

  She’s putty in his hands, even though she’s playing the brat.

  Even through all her bluster I can tell it’s starting to hurt.

  She flinches as he lands another slap, hisses under her breath as he catches her good across the thigh.

  “I’d think carefully about when you want to apologise,” Jack tells her. “Michael’s waiting to teach you a lesson for himself next.”

  She grunts as another slap makes her wriggle on his knees.

  She takes three more before she screeches at the unfairness of the world and everything in it.

  And then she says it.

  “Sorry!” she snaps. “I’m sorry, alright?!”

  But no. It isn’t alright.

  “Say it like you mean it,” Jack says.

  She’s looking at me as she speaks again. Her eyes are hooded and horny as she opens her mouth and gives Jack what he wants to hear.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry I got drunk with Eddie Stevens.”

  “And what else?”

  She takes a long breath. “I’m sorry I was… a brat…”

  “Good girl,” he says and the way he strokes her hair takes my breath.

  The way she arches her back on his lap and twists her head for more, sends my pulse into overdrive.

  I don’t want to stop watching.

  I don’t want them to stop.

  And it’s all kinds of fucked up, but I can’t change how I feel.

  I can’t change how filthy I am for wanting this.

  I’m about to excuse myself to go to the bathroom and relieve myself before I say or do something I regret. My balls are about to explode and I don’t think I can hold back from doing something insane.

  But I have to.

  Because no sooner have I determined that I’m well out of control with this craziness, Jack lets Carrie up from his knee.

  She stands meekly. Demurely. Her jeans and knickers still gathered around her thighs as she twiddles her thumbs in front of her.

  And, oh fuck, her pussy.

  I’ve never seen such a pretty little pussy in all my life.

  “Your turn,” Jack instructs me, like I need it. “Make sure you give her the punishment she deserves.”

  I nod.

  Take a breath.

  And then I take a seat in the armchair.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Carrie

  My ass is burning and so is my face. I’m still floaty from the tequila, but I’m horny as hell and reeling and I really want this. I’ve never wanted anything so much as I want this.

  I can’t believe it as Michael takes a seat in the armchair and beckons me over with open arms.

  “Be a good girl now, Carrie, and take your punishment.”

  I nod, because this is how it should be.

  This was always how it should be.

  All those sessions in Michael’s office, sitting across from him in that chair, thinking about how much I wanted him as he tried to help me any way he could.

  Any way but the way I really needed.

  He should have put me across his knees right then and there in his office. He should have made me take my punishment and shown me that bad behaviour has consequences other than getting thrown out of yet another home.

  I didn’t know it then, but this was always what I wanted.

  I take a breath as I shuffle my way across to him, loving the way my dropped jeans restrict my movement. Loving the way his eyes are on my pussy. Loving the way his breath hitches as I let myself drop across his lap.

  His hands are kinder than Jack’s. His fingers tickle up my stinging thighs and I wish he’d put them inside me, but he doesn’t.

  “I hope you realise we’re doing this because we care,” he says and I find myself nodding again.

  I squirm until I feel his dick underneath me. I gasp because I know for sure now that he really does want me.

  They both do.

  Jack’s voice is gruff when it sounds across the room.

  “Tell him you’re going to be a good girl. Tell him you know you deserve this.”

  I’ve never felt the way I’m feeling right now, so small and raw and vulnerable.

  It feels so nice to let go of the fight in me. It feels so nice to have two men who care enough to work through my shitty attitude.

  “I’ll be good,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I’ve been bad, but I promise I’ll be good now.”

  “Jack got you pretty bad,” Michael comments and my tummy tickles as his fingers spread my ass cheeks. I burn up all over again at the thought of him staring at my asshole, but I like that too. “You’re so pink.”

  I want him to see just how pink I am, so I wriggle until my jeans slip down around my knees and spread my thighs as wide as they’ll let me.

  I wonder if I’m leaving a wet patch on his trousers. I wonder if I left one on Jack’s.

  My pussy is tingling and desperate to be touched. If I didn’t need my arms to balance myself I’d struggle not to reach back and rub myself.

  Michael runs his fingers up the inside of my thighs. I moan for him but he stops too soon.

  I stare across at Jack and moan again when I see he’s palming his dick through his trousers. I want him to touch himself. I’d love to see him touch himself.

  I don’t think Michael is going to hit me as hard as Jack did, but he surprises me and hits me harder. His slap is loud and stings and sends me jerking forward on his lap. He takes my hair in his fist to stop me and I love the way it pulls at my scalp.

  “You’ve been rude to me for a whole fucking week,” he says, and hits me again. “You’ve been rude to me for five whole fucking months.”

  And I have. I tell him so and he hits me again.

  I tell him I thought he was a pussycat and he slaps my thighs so hard I squeal.

  I stop saying anything just to concentrate on how my skin is on fire. It burns a nice burn – one that blooms at my ass and travels right through me.

  I love the rhythm as he lands his palm right on all the sore parts. I love the way his breath is raspy.

  “I showed Jack my tits,” I tell him. “I took a picture of them and I wanted you to see. Both of you.”

  “I know,” he says. “Jack told me.”

  “I play with myself in bed at night and I think of you. Of both of you.”

  Jack’s palm rubs against his dick through his trousers and his eyes are wild and dark. I hope Michael’s are too.

  “Shh,” Michael hisses, but I don’t want to.

  “I wanted to fuck Eddie Stevens to make you jealous.” The words sound so raw as they come out. “I wanted you to get angry.”

  “It fucking worked,” Jack says. “If you’d have let t
hat loser inside your pretty little pussy I’d have ripped his fucking dick off.”

  I cry out as Michael speaks through his hand. Harder now. Much harder. His slaps tell me everything.

  “Stay away from Eddie fucking Stevens,” Michael growls and he slaps me again and I squeal like a pig.

  “I don’t want Eddie,” I tell them, panting for breath. “I want you. Both of you.”

  “You’re too young,” Michael snaps and Jack’s hand stops palming his cock.

  “I’m eighteen,” I argue. “I’m more than old enough.”

  “We’re in our fucking forties,” Michael says, but I know that.

  I like that.

  I tell him so and he lands me a good one, right between my ass cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for all of it. Just don’t make me leave… don’t send me away… not even if you have to do this every night, not even if you have to wash my mouth out with soap…”

  “It’s not fucking soap I want to wash your mouth out with,” Jack growls, and Michael stops hitting me.

  He lets go of my hair and helps me to my feet.

  And then he pulls my knickers and jeans up.

  I feel sick as I see the guilt in his eyes. He feels guilty. Uncertain. I know it and I hate it.

  “I was a good girl, right?” I ask, hating how much I need reassurance.

  “You were very good,” he says. “Be even better and go to bed now so I can talk to Jack.”

  I look at Jack and he nods. “Make sure you take a glass of water up with you, you need to hydrate yourself after the tequila.

  I want to stay and hear what they’re saying, but I daren’t.

  My heart is in my throat as I look between them one last time before heading out to the kitchen to grab a drink of water.

  I make sure my footsteps are loud on the stairs and that I slam my bedroom door so they’ll hear it.

  And then I crouch, like a little mouse on the top of the stairs, loving the way my ass burns from where they hit me.

  And relieved how good it feels to slip my hand down the front of my jeans.

  Jack

  Michael looks mortified, and I can’t say I blame him. This wasn’t exactly on the menu as his ideal way to handle one of his waifs and strays.

  But it was the right way to handle her.

  I’ve no doubt we’ve done the right thing, even if things veered dangerously close to the edge.

  “She needed that,” I tell him and he nods even though I’m unsure he believes me.

  “She needs to stay away from Eddie fucking Stevens,” he says and I’ve no argument there.

  “She will stay away from him. She has us to keep her on the straight and narrow.”

  He lowers his voice. “By spanking her every time she does something we disagree with?”

  “By spanking her every time she deserves it.”

  “It’s wrong,” he says.

  “No,” I argue. “It worked. How can that be wrong? The girl is crying out for discipline. She’s crying out for people who’ll stand up to her shit and stay firm through it.”

  “And that’s us, is it? We’re going to be the ones to do this?”

  I shrug. “Unless you have any better ideas?”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “I wanted to fuck her, Jack. I was so fucking close to fucking her. Her pussy was right there by my fingers. I could’ve just…”

  “Maybe you should have,” I tell him, and I know how fucked up it sounds. “Maybe we both should have.”

  He shakes his head. “No, Jack. No fucking way. This is so fucking fucked up.”

  I haven’t smoked in over a decade but I’m gagging for a cigarette right now.

  “One of us is going to fuck her,” I say.

  “And what about the other one?”

  I shrug, because I have no fucking idea. We’re both in deep. Too fucking deep.

  “Unless we don’t work out which one,” I think aloud. “Unless we just let it run its course.”

  “Like it did tonight, you mean? With both of us on the edge of fucking the girl. I nearly got my fucking dick out when she was over your knee.”

  “I nearly got mine out when she was over yours, what’s your point?”

  His mouth flaps and I have the strangest urge to laugh at all this.

  “My point is,” he says finally, “that we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

  “Probably,” I agree. “So what next? Ask her who she wants out of the pair of us?”

  The thought of rejection scares me and I can tell a mile off it scares him too.

  “She said she wants both of us,” he says, like I’m not perfectly aware of that. “She can’t be serious, and even if she were, that would never work. It’s insane.”

  “Everything about this is insane,” I tell him. “Everything about this whole fucking spectacle is insane.”

  His eyes widen as he stares at me. “Don’t tell me you’re even contemplating it.”

  It surprises me to find that I am. It surprises me to find that if I had it my way, I’d drag her back downstairs and we’d take it in turns right here and now to fuck that tight little pussy.

  She wants it.

  We want it.

  But the horror on Mike’s face tells me he’s not nearly so sure.

  “I have to go,” he says. “I’ve got to think.”

  I nod. “Sure.”

  “I can’t believe I’m involved in this.”

  I get to my feet. “I’m pretty sure none of us fucking can.”

  I’ve the strangest urge to ruffle that scruffy hair of his, like I did when we were kids and he was getting stressed about some shit or other.

  I’m two months older than Michael and it counted back then. I was always the daring one. Always the one who’d cross the rickety bridge first, just as I was today.

  “It’s Saturday tomorrow,” I say. “We need some normality. How about you come over for some beers in the evening, we’ll try to wind this shit-storm back down to some kind of decency. A few drinks, maybe a film. Absolutely no spanking.” I laugh but he doesn’t laugh with me.

  “I’ll let you know,” he says as he gets to the door.

  “You can stay if you want,” I tell him. “You can take the sofa,” I add hastily, in case there was any confusion.

  He’s already halfway down the drive when he raises his hand in a thanks but no thanks.

  It appears he doesn’t want a ride home either.

  He’s turned the corner before I’ve even found my keys.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Michael

  I walk fast, head down and hands in my pockets, guilt rattling through me at the thought of how badly I’ve desecrated my professional judgement. This should never be. This thing with Carrie was bad enough, this craziness with Jack involved is nothing short of criminal.

  But it’s not criminal.

  It violates the moral code of my career, but it’s not criminal. Not on paper.

  She’s of age and willing. Definitely willing.

  And we mean her no harm, Jack and I. Quite the opposite.

  But that matters not. I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of what nearly went down in there, and sicker still to know that my cock is still rock fucking hard, no matter how harshly I condemn myself.

  I could have fucked her then handed her over to Jack to do the same. We could’ve taken turns all night long. I could still be there now, buried deep inside the only girl who’s ever made me lose my fucking mind.

  Would I have still been hard as I watched him take her? Would I still have wanted her pretty little pussy in my face if he’d been inside her first?

  Yes.

  It sickens me, but it’s the truth of it.

  Me and Jack are close, close enough to weather anything. But this? How can we possibly come through this unchanged if one of us ends up hooked up with the girl we’re both insane about?

  And if we don’t come through it?

  If
we can’t?

  It doesn’t bear thinking about. Neither does losing Carrie after coming this far.

  The memory of searching for her day after day, night after night, is still terrifyingly vivid. The fear of never seeing her again still palpable.

  The fear of watching her fall in love with my best friend should be a walk in the park after all that, but it isn’t.

  Jealousy isn’t me, it never has been, but it feels that way tonight. Sharing her seems a better option than being left out in the cold, but sharing a girl isn’t something that any sane man in my position should ever consider.

  No. We can’t share her.

  We shouldn’t even be considering the possibility. Neither of us.

  We should never have broken the boundaries we’ve already ploughed through tonight, but it’s too late for that now.

  I’m almost back to the main stretch of town when I just can’t hold it any longer. I slip behind the old oak we used to scale as kids and pull down my zip. My cock is throbbing as I wrap my hand around the length, my breath coming in grunts as I jerk myself off.

  Fuck, it feels so much better than it should.

  I remember how she wriggled against my lap, the feel of her smooth ass against my palm. Her clammy thighs, the pretty swollen pink of her pussy. The way she looked at me after Jack gave her a good hiding, the way she so willingly dropped herself over my knees.

  The way she looked over his knees.

  The way he spanked her.

  I slam my head into the trunk of the oak, eyes screwed tight as I shoot my load. My dick twitches as the rush floods me. I’m lightheaded and disoriented, open-mouthed at the filthy pleasure of sharing that girl with the man who’s been at my side my whole fucking life.

  I stuff my cock back in my pants and catch my breath, stumbling back out onto the main road to continue my walk back to regular civilisation.

  This isn’t me.

  I was never like this with Molly, but Molly wasn’t anything like Carrie Wells. Molly never let me indulge any of my darkest fantasies, she never wanted any of them.

  The only person who’s ever known the shit I’m really into is Jack.

  Trips to visit him at University. The mad thrill of going along with his wild hedonism without the pressure of social standing back home. Without the gossip and the whispers, and the fear of everyone in the corner shop knowing about your kinky sex life.