Daddy’s Spirited Little Girl by Scott Wylder
CHAPTER SIX
Phillip
“Ice cream is for a treat, little girl,” I say, “and not for a meal. Healthy first, then fun.”
Lyric sighs and puts the pint of Blueberry Dark Chocolate Bliss back in the Freezer. “But I don’t know what to make for dinner,” she whines.
“How could you fix that?” I ask.
“Aaargh!” she groans. “Why does everything have to be a lesson?” She looks at me with a pout on her face. God, she’s so damned adorable I could explode.
“You seemed to like last night’s lesson,” I say with a smile.
She blushes and then giggles. “Daddy. I think you’re using sex to manipulate me!”
“Is it working?”
She pouts again. “Yes.” She skips up to me and puts her arms around me. “I can fix that by asking you what you think I should do for dinner or maybe going online to find a recipe with what we have.”
Feeling her next to me is powerful enough I almost want to tell her to get her ice cream and then screw her silly. Instead, I say, “Want to learn how to make something together?”
She pulls back and nods her head excitedly. A few minutes later, we’ve got a video playing and we gather together bell peppers, onions, garlic, and tomatoes. We get everything set up and then head to the store for parsley and lemon juice. She’s bright and beautiful and I’m so damned happy it’s a wonder I can think. When I park in the store parking lot, she says, “We’ve been together for four months now. I can’t remember a time in my life when you weren’t part of it. It’s like I remember you back in elementary school or back in high school.”
The comment leaves me breathless and I blurt out, “God, I love you.”
We both stop in shock. I have no idea what possessed me to say that although it’s true. What follows is the loudest silence that has ever existed in the world. She looks at me like I’ve just punched her in the gut, except only the way a punch like that paralyzes and not pain. Finally, she takes a deep breath and says, “Oh my God. I… I just realized I love you too.”
She looks like she’s going to faint and I step forward and take hold of her shoulders to keep her from falling. She whispers, “This isn’t just fun. This… this is serious.”
“Are you…” I feel like I might faint now. “Are you happy that it’s serious.”
She looks at me with that same paralyzed wonder in her eyes. “I…” Then, she throws her arms around me and holds me tight. “Yes! Yes!” she says. “God, yes!”
It’s so strange. The only way I can describe how I feel is that it’s like the best orgasm I’ve ever had, except it’s a mental orgasm and not physical.
An hour later, we’re both recovering from the physical orgasm that followed the conversation.
We both say it again on the way to the store, and it’s just as breathtaking for both of us. Naturally, I know it’s breathtaking for me. I can tell it’s breathtaking for her because when she says it, her face gets that otherworldly expression again. I’m so thrilled about it all, completely unable to wrap my head around how good it all feels.
We say it at the store, too, and this time she is the one who says it first when I suggest we buy a bottle of wine to go with dinner. She looks at me and says, “but you don’t like wine.”
She’s right.
“But you do,” I say, “and I like you having things you like.”
She looks at me and then bites her lip. “I really do love you, Daddy,” she says.
Right there in the store, I lean forward and kiss her and then say, “I love you too, little girl.”
There’s something pretty amazing that we not only declared our love like that in between one produce island filled with apples and oranges and another filled with bell peppers. Somewhere in the midst of the shopping she takes my hand, the one not carrying the shopping basket. She’s held my hand in the past, of course. This time, it feels divine.
When we get back home, we get the groceries unpacked and can’t hold back. We end up together on the loveseat and this time the sex is very slow and very tender. Oh, it had plenty of romance before but right now, it is like a gentle and beautiful love song. When it’s over, I lift her up off the loveseat and kiss her gently. We take a quick shower, and it’s hard to resist more lovemaking there.
Finally, we watch the video together and as we do, we make a really breathtaking meal. As we sit and eat it, I keep staring at her and she blushes and smiles and it occurs to me that there’s a very good chance she’s not just my little girl. There’s a very good chance she’s my forever little girl. The thought is breathtaking, overwhelming and completely beautiful. I don’t know how to keep from grinning and when she asks me what’s up, I tell her I not only love her but I love her more than words can express.
She blushes a deep, powerful shade of red, and I love how her skin tone makes her blushing very evident and even more beautiful. “Do you…” I pause and I say, “I really loved cooking with you. It felt wonderful and it has me thinking.”
“I loved it too, Daddy,” she says.
“Would you like to move in with me? I have a four-bedroom house and I’m all alone. I could set up one room as a studio for you, one as an office and we could keep the other for a guest room. I guess the rest of the world would say we should at least wait for six months but… Would you like to do it?”
“The rest of the world doesn’t have you for a Daddy,” she says. “So the rest of the world doesn’t understand. Do you really want me to move in?”
“I do,” I say.
“Oh, Daddy! Yes! Yes!” she shouts and suddenly she’s on top of me, straddling me right there on the kitchen chair and covering my face with kisses. It’s not sexual at all. Well, I’ve got a lovely girl on top of me, so it’s at least a little sexual for me. The point is, she’s just a little girl overwhelmed with excitement, love and gratitude.
I wonder at how much she can mean to me after such a short time together. Then she kisses my cheek and softly whispers, “I love you, Daddy,” into my ear before lowering her head onto my chest again and I don’t wonder at all.
We spend the rest of the evening watching tv while cuddling together on the sofa. She enjoys her ice cream and laughs as animated characters get themselves into and out of impossible predicaments in hilarious ways. I laugh too, not because I think the show is funny but because I’m overwhelmed with joy watching Lyric happy.
It hits me like a freight train that I will get to see Lyric like this all the time now that she’ll be living with me. I won’t only get the Lyric that is dressed up for our dates but the Lyric that unwinds on the couch in pajamas at the end of a long day of work and the Lyric that falls out of bed with mussed-up hair and bleary eyes.
I squeeze her hand and say, “I love you, little girl.”
She smiles up at me and says, “I love you, Daddy.”
If there have ever been more perfect words in the English language, I’ve never heard them.