for you, daddy 🖤
you make me feel wanted in every way that matters. i'm yours. always.
-- your little girl 🩰
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I've known Shay my whole life. But I didn't know how good it would feel to open my legs in front of her--with him still inside me...
We hadn't planned anything special. Daddy suggested we stop in for a drink--just the three of us, like old times. Shay was already downtown finishing a meeting, and the bar was quiet, familiar, close enough to home that we didn't have to watch the clock.
Shay was always around--one of those adult women who existed on the edge of things, with keys to places I wasn't allowed and a voice that never rose above a low hum. When I was little, I called her Aunt Shay, even though we weren't related. She never corrected me. Just let it hang in the air like everything else she didn't say out loud.
She and Daddy have been in business together for years--more like partners than coworkers, though neither of them would say it that way. The kind of bond you build over deadlines, disasters, and decisions made long after midnight. She's never flirted. Never crossed a line. But she notices things.
And tonight, she's noticing me.
It's late. The kind of late where the music fades to something soft and old, and the crowd thins to murmurs and half-empty glasses.
We've taken over a corner booth near the back. Me, tucked beside Daddy. Shay across from us, legs stretched out, wine glass cradled in one hand.
She's quiet tonight. Not cold--just content to watch.
Shay's the kind of woman who doesn't fill silence just to make it comfortable. She builds her sentences like blueprints--carefully, precisely, and only when they matter.
She and Daddy have been business partners longer than I've been alive. They've opened and closed deals together. Fought in boardrooms. Slept on opposite sides of too many hotel walls.
There's no heat between them. Never has been. But there's trust--the kind that lives in silence.
Daddy is casual in public. Never possessive. Never overt. He doesn't touch my thigh or and uses my real name. He just stays close enough to let me know I'm his, even if no one else can tell.
I don't need him to claim me here. I just need to feel him.
And I do. The warmth of his arm resting behind me. The subtle shift of his breath when I lean against him. The way he looks at me like nothing else in the room matters.
Shay watches all of it.
"You always this soft with him?" she asks eventually, breaking the quiet with a voice that curls more than it cuts.
I glance up.
Before I can find words, Daddy turns his head and kisses me.
It's a nothing kiss. Quick. Quiet. Barely there. But it lands like a secret I wasn't ready to tell.
When he pulls back, Shay doesn't blink. She just takes a sip of wine, nodding to herself like she's confirmed something.
Then, softly: "You're a lucky man."
Daddy says nothing.
But his hand brushes mine under the table. And I feel everything in that one touch.
I go to the bathroom a few minutes later. Just to catch my breath.
My heart's been racing since Shay said it--since she looked at me like she saw something I didn't even know was visible.
When I come back, the vibe has shifted.
Shay's glass is lower. Daddy's arm is resting lazily along the booth, like it lives there.
Their conversation quiets as I slide in beside him.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. His hand finds mine again.
I melt against him like it's instinct.
"My place is closer," Shay says casually, like it's just logistics. "You two can crash there if you want."
Daddy looks at me. Always lets it be mine to answer.
I nod.
And it's only after we stand that I realize--I'm shaking a little. Not from fear. From something I can't name yet.
--
Shay's apartment is calm. Clean. All warm wood and soft lighting, vinyl playing in the corner like it's been waiting for us.
She hands me a glass of wine. Her fingers brush mine just slightly when I take it.
No comment. Just a glance.
Daddy settles on the couch. I curl up next to him without thinking.
He strokes the back of my neck like he always does. Not possessive. Just home.
Shay drops into the armchair across from us and exhales like she's been waiting to sit all night.
They're quiet for a while, just sipping their wine while I lean into Daddy, head resting against his chest. His arm drapes around me like it belongs there, and Shay's eyes flick over the two of us--calculating, curious, not unkind.
"You two always like this?" she asks finally, her tone light but not teasing.
Daddy doesn't even look up. "Like what?"
Shay gestures loosely with her glass. "This close. This... locked in."
I feel my face flush, but Daddy just kisses my hair.
"We don't always show it."
Shay nods once. Thoughtful.
"Well," she says, setting her glass down. "If you ever feel like showing it... I wouldn't mind watching."
A pause.
Then as if taking her bait, Daddy leans in and kisses me.
