Rami

Mary and her husband were nice enough to let him visit her. That's about as much as he could ask for.

For the first few years of her life he'd come by once a week, showering her in gifts and attention. Uncle Frank is what she called him. It stung. But he could swallow it down, so long as he got to see her.

She was beautiful. Even when she was younger, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He couldn't believe he had a hand in creating her, and it only served to make him angrier to think some guy got to take credit for Frank's work.

Things changed a bit when she entered middle school. Mary and her husband appreciated a break and some alone time, so he started taking her on day trips –  to the park, a shopping spree, the museum –  anything his little girl wanted she would get.

They became a lot closer. She had already loved seeing him when he'd visit, but whenever he picked her up for one of their outings she'd run down the stairs, almost tripping over her own feet, and jump into his awaiting arms squealing "Uncle Frankie!" and his heart would clench, wishing she could just call him what he is –  her daddy.

He was grateful for what he could get, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting more. She was his, only his, the moment she was born, yet he'd spent years playing this stupid little charade pretending she wasn't.

So he let himself be a little more lax, when it was just the two of them. They'd hold hands as they walked, she'd sit on his lap on the park bench, they snuggled up together at the movies. It killed him that he couldn't just take her home for some proper alone time. But it soothed the ache when she clung to him every second they were together.

He finally gets his chance when Abby and Becca fly out to visit Abby's family. He'd lied and told her he had an important conference that same weekend, so he couldn't make it. Then he turned around and told Mary that Abby and Becca were having a girl's weekend, so the house was free. He wasn't entirely sure it was going to work, but Mary and her husband jumped at the chance to have a weekend alone –  and that's how he managed to get Mel all to himself for two whole days.

(It was kind of insulting, honestly, how much Mary and her husband wanted time away from Mel. If he could, Frank would spend every waking moment with her and never let her go. But it worked in his favour, if it meant he got more time with her).

"Wow uncle Frank, your house is really big."

It wasn't much bigger than her own, but it had a pool in the backyard and two extra bedrooms, so to her it was massive.

"Sorry I don't have a room set up for you, sweetheart. You'll have to sleep in my bed tonight."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

Chuckling, he ruffles her hair lightly. "Yup. But it's big and comfy, like a giant pillow. Wanna see?"

She nods enthusiastically, so he takes her small hand in his, entwines their fingers, and leads her down the hall.

When they reach the master bedroom her eyes get wide. "Wow..."

"Go on then," he nudges her. "Give it a test run."

Mel giggles and scrambles onto the bed, laying on her stomach with her arms and legs spread out. She's wearing a pair of jean shorts that barely come to her mid-thigh, and a tight-fitting tank top to stave off the summer heat.

Frank feels all the blood in his head rush down to his dick. He's been imagining this for years, his little girl in his bed, spread out for him. His mind is racing with the possibilities.

"What's the verdict, baby?"

"'s comfy," she mumbles into the duvet.

He moves closer to the bed. "Nothing but the best for my girl," he says, drawing his knuckles along her bare calf.

"That tickles, Frankie," she giggles.

Frank smirks. "Oh, does it?" He kneels on the bed, hovering over her with her legs between his. "What about this?" He draws his hand up higher and lightly pinches her inner thigh.

She squeaks out a laugh, and he delights in the way her body squirms.

"Or this?" he asks, poking his fingers into her side, leaving no room for her to answer. "What about here? And here? Still ticklish there?" He teases relentlessly, wriggling his fingers anywhere he can grab.

She's squealing with laughter, but he hasn't pulled out the big guns yet. He knows her weak spot, the back of her thighs right above the knee. He bends down and bites the soft flesh.

"Stop it Frankie, stop it!" She all but screams, barely able to catch her breath, her arms reaching awkwardly behind her to try and shove him off. He listens to her beg for just a moment longer before taking pity and pulling himself away.

"Alright, alright. You win," he relents, sitting back on his heels, both hands up in mock surrender.

She shimmies around to lay on her back, panting and grinning up at him. Her golden hair is splayed around her and her shirt rides up, exposing her stomach.

Jesus Christ. He feels like he's dreaming.

He falls forward, catching himself on one elbow to hover over her, and rests his other hand on the bare skin of her hip.

"You're so pretty, Mellie," he whispers, eyes raking across her, her socked feet, knobby knees, the flushed skin of her neck and cheeks. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"You tell me all the time," she says, suddenly shy.

He dips his head down to nose against her cheek. "Not nearly enough," he mumbles. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Frankie," she whines, wriggling beneath him. "Don't tease me."

"'m not," he mumbles, dragging his lips across her jaw. "Am I really the only one who tells you that?"

She nods.

"What about your-" he swallows, "your dad?"

"No. He doesn't, um..." her voice gets small. "I don't think he likes me all that much."

Frank just about sees red.

He's spent years letting that man call himself her father, and he doesn't even have the decency to treat her like one?

"He's a fucking moron," he says lowly.

"Frankie!" Mel giggles, shoving his shoulder lightly. "You swore."

He pulls back to look at her. "I'm serious, Mel. You deserve better than him."

Mel smiles up at him. "It's okay, Frank,” she says simply. “I've got you."

He softens instantly, and smiles back at her. "Yeah, baby. You've always got me. I'm yours."

He leans down and kisses the corner of her upturned mouth and she giggles, wrapping her arms around him.

It shouldn't feel this good, having her under him. It shouldn't feel so right. But it does, it really does. He lets the hand on her waist skim up until he feels the edge of her training bra.

Frank keeps waiting for her to tell him to stop touching her like this, but she never does. She likes it. Instead of shying away she always preens into him, like a sunflower towards the sun, like some part of her knows who she really belongs to.

Now is no different. She hums and buries her face in his neck, and he uses the position to kiss along the curve of her neck, down the slope of her shoulder. He slots a knee between her legs and presses it against her with light pressure. Mel makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and shifts to push herself further against him.

"Feel good, baby?"

"Mhm," she nods.

"I can make you feel really good, sweetheart. Do you want that?"

"Yes please," she whispers into his neck.

Always so polite, his girl.

He extracts himself for their position, just enough to look down at her.

"This is something only daddies get to do. But you don't want to do this with your daddy, do you?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"No, you don't. That's right. So if we do this I need two things – one, this has to stay our little secret. No one else can know, especially not your parents. Understood?"

A fervent nod of her head.

"Good. And two, I need you to call me daddy. If you don’t, we have to stop. Can you do that?"

Another nod.

"I need to hear you say it, baby."

"...Yes, daddy"

Frank groans. He's been waiting years to hear her call him that, but nothing could have prepared him for how sweet it sounds coming from her lips.

"Good girl," he praises, rewarding her with a kiss to her jaw, "very good girl. Say it again for me, sweetheart."

"Daddy," she breathes, "daddy," like a dam has broken, whining as she begins to grind herself against him.

"Fuck, baby, that's it. I've got you," he mutters, trailing his lips down her chest, over the fabric of her tank top, the petal soft skin of her stomach. He shifts to lay between her legs and presses a kiss on the bare skin of her pelvis, right above the button of her shorts.

He glances up at her to find her already watching him, eyes wide, lips parted, breathing heavy.

His heart feels like it's in his throat, beating so loud he can hear it in his ears. His perfect, perfect girl, staring down at him, waiting, trusting him to make her feel good. If only she knew just what she means to him.

He undoes the button of her jean shorts, listens to the metal drag of the zipper, and tugs the flaps back. Underneath she's wearing a pair of simple white cotton panties with a tiny satin-pink bow in the center of the waistband. He can see through the fabric the thin patch of dark brown hair, just starting to grow. 

Frank pats the side of her hip. “Up.” 

She listens, lifting herself up so he can shimmy her shorts off and toss them to the side. 

It’s almost pure instinct, the way he dives in. Mouth open, tongue laving against her through her panties. She squeaks and jerks her hips, attempting to free herself from the sudden stimulation, but he hooks his arms under her thighs and holds her still. 

He groans into her. She tastes so fucking good – sweet and fresh and his. He watches through his lashes as she arches off the bed, hands scrambling for purchase in the sheets, delicate, breathy whimpers escaping her. 

He ruts against the bed, desperate for any bit of friction. He’s been hard the moment she got in his bed, now it’s almost painful. He wishes he could take her all the way tonight, but he’s not stupid. He knows he has to take his time. And he wants to. He wants to be all her firsts, and he wants to savour every second of it. So, despite his painfully hard erection, he’s happy with just this, for tonight. Maybe tomorrow he can teach her how to use her own mouth on him. 

“Daddy,” Mel whines, drawing him from his thoughts, “please.”  

The moan he lets out vibrates through his entire body, and he begins grinding against the mattress in earnest. She has no idea what she’s begging for, he thinks, the lengths he’d go to to please her, the plans he has in store for her. It makes him almost dizzy. 

“Shh,” he soothes, giving her a break and presses his wet mouth to her inner thigh. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you what you need, okay?” 

Her head has fallen back on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, but she’s nodding, twisting the duvet in both her hands. 

“Here, honey. Would this help?” He takes hold of one of her hands and puts it in his own hair. 

She tilts her head down and cracks her eyes open, watching as she draws her small fingers through his this hair.

“Yes,” she breathes. 

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” she says, breaking into a smile. 

A breath shudders out of him and he thinks maybe he can fast-track this just a little bit. He tugs her panties off in one go, then rearranges her legs to sling over his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. He draws his thumb through her wet folds, spreading them apart. She looks like a Georgia O'Keeffe painting. His pretty flower, pink, soft, glowing. 

“Mel, baby, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Frank…” she squirms. 

He fixes her with a stern look. “What did I say?” 

“Sorry! Sorry, daddy, I’m sorry. Please don’t stop.” 

He hums and thumbs her entrance. “That’s my good girl.”

He spreads her open again, taking a moment to admire her innocence. “Tug as hard as you’d like, okay? It won’t hurt me.”

She gives an experimental pull. “Are you sure?” 

“Promise,” he says, then dives back in. 

If he thought she tasted good before, this is like heaven. He can fit almost his entire mouth over her, and licks a fat stripe against her before focusing on her budding clit. 

She yelps and bucks her hips, inadvertently grinding into his mouth, and tugs sharply on his hair. He grunts, rocking his hips into the mattress, and shifts to prod at her entrance with his middle finger, slowly sliding it in, knuckle by knuckle.

“Oh,” she breathes, sweetly, almost like relief. He dares further and presses the pad of his finger up, up, up, into that spongy part inside her, and she keens. He pulls his free hand down and snakes it into his pants, below his boxers, and lets out a stuttered groan. 

He watches her, fucking himself with his fist, and keeps fucking her with his finger, a slow slide in and out, curling and uncurling, all while he continues to suck and lick and nibble at her clit. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she whines, tugging at his hair urgently, “I think- I think I’m gonna pee.” 

“That’s good, baby,” he mumbles against her, “that’s really good. Means it’s working, means daddy’s taking real good care of you.”

“But-”

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just trust me.” 

He moves with more fervor, sucking and licking with a messy sort of precision. His finger jerks into her at a rapid pace, and it’s only a few more minutes of this before her whole body seizes and she’s cumming with a long, high-pitched whine.  

Her thighs clench around his head, her heels digging into his back, her hand tugging hard on his hair, and it barely takes a few more thrusts before he’s spilling into his own hand. 

She’s whimpering when he pulls away, shifting himself up the bed so he can get a proper look at her. A few tears have spilled from her eyes, painting her pink, flushed cheeks, and she’s still trying to catch her breath but she’s radiant. Satiated, even. Like something's fallen into place for her as much as it has for him. 

He leans down and kisses her tears away. “That was so good, baby, you did such a good job. I’m so proud of you, Mel.” She whimpers and wraps her arms around him, tugging him closer to her. 

He keeps his face an inch above hers, watching the aftereffects of her first orgasm wear off. He cups her cheek, softly thumbing the skin below her eye before she finally opens them. 

“There she is,” he smiles. “You doing okay, baby?” 

“Mhm,” she hums, still dazed. “That felt really, um- really good.” 

He smirks and kisses the corner of her mouth. “Told you I’d take care of you, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah,” she smiles. “you always do.” 

“That’s right, baby. And I always will, too.” 

She observes him for a moment, then draws her fingers up to rest against his lips, watching her own movement. 

“Thank you, daddy,” she whispers.