Some more Papaleb (55) x MC (25) [dad/daughter]
MC settling herself on Caleb's lap, prodding him to do her hair before they go out. She's just spritzed some of her spring perfume around her chest and that fresh scent mingled with her own natural light one makes Caleb breathe in deep. He takes her hair between his fingers and gets to work, albeit languidly. After finishing one twist he lifts it up to kiss her shoulder. Lightly, playfully, not lingering. He knows she'll be upset if they miss their reservation which they've been waiting for for a couple of weeks now.
After he pulls back and continues he can't help but eye the black dress she's wearing, halter-style that's practically backless. A neat bow is tied and centered on the back of her neck, the silken ends just hovering over her skin. He can easily make out her muscle tone and her impeccable posture simply completes the picture. She's absolutely perfect. But of course she is. She's his babygirl after all.
She starts to squirm a little.
"If you want me to do your hair you have to stay still, sweetheart."
She doesn't respond with words but with more movement and a barely audible sound of satisfaction.
He gives her hair a soft tug and watches her spine curve as her hips move. He releases her partly-done hair to take hold of her waist, thumbs pressing into the small of her back. "I know what you're doing," he says into her ear with a tone of voice that sends goosebumps down her arms. "You can feel me, can't you. This is what you want . . . to toy with me." His grip upon her waist tightens and he presses her down, making sure she can feel how hard he is. "But you're forgetting something, pipsqueak . . ."
He drags the knuckles of one hand up her spine and hooks two fingers under the tie of her dress. Yanking her back he holds her flush against him, his hand now around her throat. Her pulse is oh so strong, so beautiful pounding against his palm. "This game you're playing, I'm the one who wrote the rules."
