Daddy’s Naughty Girl 9

I woke up aching.

Not the sweet, satisfied ache from yesterday. This was sharp, urgent, the kind that started between my legs and spread like wildfire.

I’d dreamed about him, Elias, his hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at me when I swallowed him last night.

I woke up wet, nipples hard, thighs pressed together under the covers.

Downstairs, the house was already alive. I could hear voices, Mia laughing, her mom directing traffic, the rustle of decorations and the clink of a coffee mug.

Through the cracked door I caught glimpses, Mia on a ladder stringing garland, Mrs. Harlan arranging poinsettias on the mantel, Elias lifting boxes of ornaments, sleeves rolled up, back muscles shifting under his thermal shirt.

My stomach flipped.

Mrs. Harlan’s voice floated up the stairs. “Is Sadie still sleeping? It’s almost nine!”

“Probably exhausted from all the cookie decorating,” Mia called back, teasing.

I bit my lip, heat flooding me. If