Page 39 of Dark Daddies

“I might not even be able to recognize any of them, even if I’ve seen them before. And I don’t see why I have to eat with them. I could just peek through the door and see if I see anyone I know. That way I wouldn’t have to get dressed and⁠—"

Rather than answering her, I grasped her round the waist, cutting her off, and she shrieked as I lifted her up.

“Daddy, noooo, I’ll get ready, I’ll get ready!”

But I’d already sat down on the nearby bench—one of many seating places scattered around the conservatory—and pulled her over my lap. The heavy apron she was wearing was a bit of a barrier between her body and mine, but it couldn’t do anything to protect her bottom.

I flipped up her skirt.

Movement out of the corner of my eye made me lift my head, and I glared at the man who’d appeared at the end of the row of garden beds, between two bushes. Not that I’d needed to. The second he saw us, he practically ran back in the direction he’d come from.

“Daddy, I’m sorry, I’ll go get ready, you don’t have to—ow!”

My hand came down hard on her upturned butt, turning her creamy white skin pink, and I smiled.

Ivy

Blast it all, I should have known better.

In fact I did know better, but my nerves about being anywhere near any Biancos had gotten to me. I’d started looking for any reason not to see them. I would much rather be tucked away somewhere that I could see them, but they couldn’t see me. It was safer. Easier.

Even if it did mean that Tomas would be without his wife at the meal.

But the don had said I had to be there and I knew Tomas wasn’t going to let me slide. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. But I had to push and push and push and now I was over his knee with my bottom out in the air, and his hand smacking against it with the force of a wooden paddle.

“Oooow, Daddy, I’m sorry! I’ll cooperate, I promise!”

My legs kicked as his hand came down again and again. I couldn’t help but wriggle and try to escape, even though he had a firm grip on me; one arm and hand wrapped over my middle to hold me on his lap while the other walloped my buttocks. The heat grew with every hard slap of his palm against my flesh, both inside and outside.

He ignored my cries and my pleas, which just made my insides hotter, even as tears began to slide down my face. He swatted me down one side and up the other, making sure not to miss the extra sensitive sit-spots that had me howling.

Strangely, by the time he stopped and started rubbing the burning skin of my bottom, I actually felt a little better. I was still sniffling when he pulled me up onto his lap, and I snuggled in against him. One thing about Tomas, despite his huge size and brutish appearance, he was actually quite cuddly. And I had never considered myself a cuddler, but he was so easy to curl up against and lean on.

I’d found that I enjoyed being wrapped up against him this way, even when he hadn’t just spanked me.

I could feel his hard cock against my side, but instead of turning me toward him, after a long moment he gave me a squeeze and started to stand so that I was forced to my feet.

“Let’s go, little flower.”

My pussy throbbed, disappointed, but I bit my lip as his hand pressed on the small of my back, guiding me forward. Dammit. I’d wanted to be bent over the garden bed and fucked again. There was something wrong with my head, to want such a thing, but at the same time I knew I was happier than I’d ever been in my life. It was all very strange.

Don Bianco’s house seemed like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a matter of a couple weeks and a few days. Maybe that was the real reason I didn’t want to have dinner with the don and whoever he brought with him. I didn’t want any reminder of my past infringing on my present. He might not be the don I’d been handed off to, like a thing, but he was still Don Bianco.

Tomas wasn’t a don and he didn’t treat me like a thing.

I was his little flower.

Against all the odds, I liked being his little flower.

So I let him lead me out of the conservatory and down the hallway. We’d just made it to the foyer when his steps slowed and I realized the number of male voices weren’t coming from DiNardos… they were coming from Biancos. Several unfamiliar men turned around to face us.

In the center of the group, I could see a man who had to be the new Don Bianco. He wore his authority like a cape that rolled out behind him. Tall, leanly muscled, his salt- and-pepper hair had more salt than pepper and he had a nicely styled mustache and beard. A pair of circular wire-frame glasses were perched on his nose. He looked more like an accountant than a mob boss, but there was no doubt he was the one in charge.

There was a small space around him, like a bubble, that no one else dared invade.

The two standing closest to him were a young man and a young woman. The young man looked like his father, before he’d gone gray, and without the glasses. His suit was rumpled, giving him a more thuggish look than the clean, crisp lines of his father’s attire. The young woman wore a gold beaded dress that would have looked more in-place at a night club than a house, with heavy makeup and bright-red lips. A long strand of pearls hung round her neck, tied in a knot just at her breasts.

All three of them turned to look at me and Tomas, and the rest of the men—it was all men except the young woman in gold—turned with them.