Page 34 of Daddy's Reckoning
I bit back a snarl at her assessment. We weren’t roommates, and I wasn’t about to settle for just lovers, either. I was Daddy—to both her and the baby growing inside of her. But whatever, she could keep being stubborn if she wanted to. I wasn’t obligated to play along.
My jaw ticked. “Noted. But for the record, I told you I’d come in to help you unpack. You’ve already been on your feet enough today.”
She ran her tongue along her teeth—a tell that she was supremely irritated. “Fine, but next time, knock.”
I ignored her and grabbed a suitcase from the pile of boxes, unpacking the items into her new dresser, taking care to fold each one properly, even though she’d shoved them in the suitcase all willy-nilly.
When the clothes were unpacked—I was shocked at how little she had—I moved onto toiletries, then books and other personal items. When all of the boxes and bags were empty, I walked over and sat on the edge of her bed.
If looks could kill I’d be a dead man, the way she glared at me. But it didn’t dissuade me. If anything, it fueled me more.
“You like to change the subject on me, little one. But you and I both know we have things to talk about. And I won't be dropping it.”
“What things?” she asked.
I could tell from the look on her face that she already knew. I could also see her nipples, pebbled in excitement, peaking through the fabric of her shirt, giving her away. My babygirl missed her Daddy. Aside from that, she probably had a lot of guilty feelings and needed to be punished.
But I would play along. For a little while, anyway. Just long enough to draw out the anticipation. Then I would strike.
“Oh…” I folded one leg over the other, smoothing the fabric of my slacks to draw her attention to my thighs. “I think you know what things.”
She gulped, a flash of something I couldn’t place crossing her features. “I don’t,” she lied.
Deny, deny, deny. My cock was already hard just thinking about painting her ass red while I listened to her soft cries of sorry and promises to do better. I reached down to adjust myself, but not before I made sure she was watching. I hoped her pussy was wet.
“We canceled the contract,” she reminded me petulantly. “You told me to.”
My eyes clouded over, and I steadied my annoyance. “Because you didn’t need to be paying for something I would give you for free. Don’t play coy with me, little girl. You knew exactly what my intentions were when I said that.”
She shrugged. “It’s still canceled.”
“And you were naughty before it was canceled. You were about to be punished for it, but then you fainted, and your lie of omission came out.” Trying hard to keep my cool, I clicked my tongue. “Double naughty.”
She shifted on the bed, and I knew I was affecting her, but she wasn’t ready to give in just yet. That was fine. I was ready to play hardball.
Staring her down, I stood. “Okay, if you think you can get over the guilt without being punished for it…”
I turned like I was about to walk out of the room, praying I was right about what her next move would be. I was almost to the door, second guessing and kicking myself every step of the way, when her soft, strangled cry rent the air.
“Theo… wait!”
I didn’t stop. I kept walking. She knew what to do to get me to turn around.
“Daddy….”
There it was. A Cheshire cat grin burst across my face, and I quickly schooled it before turning around. “Yes?” I asked, raising my brow.
“Is it… is it safe? You know, with the baby?”
“It can be. As long as we’re careful and don’t go overboard.”
She nodded. “I’m thinking about dropping out of med school. I have a few days to either suck it up and enroll in summer school to recover that biochem credit, or….”
My shock propelled me across the room. I opened my mouth, but what could I say? There was a small, very selfish part of me that wanted her to quit. I pictured her as a stay-at-home mother to our son or daughter, baking cookies in the kitchen while they played with trucks or babydolls on the floor beside her.
But I knew—or suspected, at least—that she wouldn’t be happy being a full-time mom and giving up her dream career. “Is that really what you want?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I know I hate biochem, and it feels like I’ll never get it. I know medical school in the late stages of pregnancy will be hard enough, and with a baby it will be nearly impossible. Then, of course, there’s the part of me that wants to set a good example for my child—to be the kind of mom who doesn’t give up just because things are hard, and who teaches him or her to always follow their dreams.”