Daddy's Christmas Surprise Read online

  Daddy’s Christmas Surprise

  L.M. Mountford

  Copyright © 2021 by The Lord of Lust Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except with brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  L.M. Mountford

  United Kingdom

  Daddy’s Christmas Surprise

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Readabit: Copy Editing and Proofreading Services Est 2018

  L.M. Mountford–1st Ed.

  ISBN: 978-1-913945-71-8

  Contents

  About the Author

  Bibliography

  Don’t Miss Out

  Title

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Also by the Author

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  A self-confessed Tiger fanatic, L.M. Mountford was born and raised in England, first in the town of Bridgewater, Somerset, before later moving to the city of Gloucester. He lives with his fiancé and their two fur babies. A fully qualified Scuba Diver, he has travelled the globe diving wrecks and seeing the wonders of the world.

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  Josh Winchester had never thought his life would be like this.

  Growing up, he had just been a simple lad with simple dreams. Finish school. Get a job. Marry his dream girl and have the two point five children. Live happily ever after like they always did on the telly.

  Becoming a DotCom millionaire- back when such things had been possible- fresh out of college, and following it through to the list of top fifty billionaires certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

  But when life gives you lemons, why settle for lemonade? Make a fucking cheesecake.

  However, that cheesecake had become something of a tart these days.

  Drained from the evening’s exertion, Josh hardly noticed the bing of his penthouse’s private elevator as the doors slid apart to reveal an opulence that had long since lost its sparkle.

  Marble floors and gold inlay sounded nice, but when it all came down to it, the only difference between that and the stick-on gear you bought down at the DIY store, besides the price tag, was the prior just meant something else to polish.

  He could afford the expense, but the prices the local cleaning companies charged to come out and do a property in Knightsbridge were highway robbery with violence and buggery.

  With an exhausted sigh, he stepped out of the elevator and made straight for his bedroom down the hall, shrugging off his jacket and tugging his tie loose as he went.

  It had been the usual hullabaloo that it always was on Christmas Eve. He’d been representing his organisation, Firewall, at a charity ball for the rich and famous, pretending not to know all the funds raised would actually get carved up amongst the host and organisers to pay for the spread and décor.

  Strange as it might seem, he’d used to enjoy the yearly shindigs. The pomp and glamour masked behind a veil of festivity and good will to all men, and an opportunity to press flesh with the stars without them begging for funding for whatever vanity project they were fronting.

  That was while his wife was alive. His angel. His Sonja.

  The uncontested love of his life. And his greatest regret.

  Without her on his arm, the charade just wasn’t worth the effort.

  Pulling at his dickie bow, desperate to loosen its noose around his neck, he pulled open his bedroom door, and suddenly stopped dead, his eyes wide in disbelief.

  Compared to the wealth and opulence of the rest of the penthouse, Josh’s bedroom was little more than a cell. A quiet, almost humble abode with only the most plain and functional of furnishings. A simple double bed flanked by side-tables, a wardrobe against one wall, and a chest of draws on the other. Simple, practical and minimalist, just like its owner.

  A Black Country boy born and bred, Josh had never been entirely comfortable with the trappings of wealth. It was just too big and too much. He liked things small and poky, like his parent's place on the council estate where they'd grown up. So when they’d stumbled across a place with what the estate agent had described as a glorified coat closet round the back, he’d made an offer there and then. While Sonja had busied herself turning the rest of their home into a palace fit to house any denizen of high society, he’d been erecting his man cave. It was a quiet little piece of Birmingham, the only place he could really call his own. His Sanctuary.

  And someone had violated it.

  Lying in the middle of the room was perhaps the biggest sack he had ever seen. A cavernous cloth bag with a red and white fur trim worthy of old Saint Nick himself, and all his reindeer pulling that damn sleigh too.

  What was it doing there, in his bedroom?

  “What the?” Josh mused slowly, arching a brow, before treading in and circling the sack, giving it a slow walk around. What on earth could it be, and how could it have gotten in. His secretary, Reina, might have dropped it round if something had arrived at the office while he was away, but she always let him know when she did. But it was well past office hours, and she never trespassed into his private rooms. Noticing a card attached to the silk ribbon that tied it, he reached out to read it, but the contact caused whatever was inside to move.

  “Christ!” Cursing, Josh lurched backward, as if expecting a cobra to rear up before him. However, when nothing happened, the bag stilled as whatever was inside settled. He took a breath. Waited for a moment. Then, when still nothing happened, he slowly reached out and poked the sack again.

  It wriggled, and then there was a noise, soft and excited, like... giggling.

  Curiosity getting the better of him, he undid the ribbon and opened the sack-

  “Surprise!” An excited voice cheered and Josh felt the air being punched from his lungs as a red and black blur burst from the sac and hit him in the
chest, sending him tumbling back to the floor. Grunting as his back hit the ground, he found his head suddenly buried in a mass of wavy black hair rich with the scent of forest fruits and a pair of sapphire blue eyes staring back at him, bright with mischief.

  “Erica?”

  “Merry Christmas Daddy.” His stepdaughter beamed before swooping down and crushing her lips to his in a lush, hungry kiss.

  She tastes like... strawberries, Josh realised as Erica’s mouth moved against his, sucking hungrily at his lips before her lush little tongue found his own and coaxed it into a dance that made his cock hard within its prison.

  Stroking. Teasing. Swirling. Drinking him in as her hands fisted in his hair, drawing him close so he could feel how soft and small she felt against him. How warm and inviting.

  Yet for all that, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how her mother had tasted.

  He supposed it was. They had always been so alike. Near identical in fact, except for the obvious age difference, and even that had been less and less noticeable near the end. That same bright smile and playful expression. Those same full lips and little nose that would twitch adorably whenever she laughed and sneezed. The same soft, wavy dark hair that tumbled down to the flair of their dancer’s hips and long legs.

  So alike, he could have almost believed it was her mother kissing him.

  Yet she had never kissed him, and it was that thought that gave him the strength to pull away.

  “Erica! What are you doing?” he demanded, his breathing hot and heavy as he glared down at her, eyes dark with lust. “And just what are you wearing?”

  His surprise was well warranted.

  Though no one would ever call Erica’s wardrobe conservative, she'd surpassed herself this time. Hell, it was unquestionably one of the sexiest things Josh had ever seen. A piece of crimson cloth trimmed with snowy white fur that hugged her body like a second skin. Hung off her shoulders, it both accentuated the slope of her neck while boasting a deep plunging neckline that left nothing to the imagination and went perfectly with the thigh-high flounced skirt that, even from that angle, teased a glimpse of her derrière.

  “Aww... don’t you like it?” she pouted, the corner of her plump pink lips curling with a naughty half-smile. Her big innocent eyes widened and stared up at him with a look that was both innocent and sexy as fuck. “It’s your Christmas present.”

  “My Christmas present, huh?” Josh said slowly, and couldn’t resist giving her another long once over. Coupled with the black belt and gold buckle, sleek white hold ups, black knee-high boots, she had assembled the perfect Sexy Santa Dress.

  And it certainly lived up to its name. Even the innocent fluffy red and white santa hat complemented the get up. The only thing missing was the blow up reindeer for her to straddle and cheer Ho! Ho! Ho!

  Dragging his eyes away, looking up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, anywhere that wasn’t in her general direction. “Well, it’s lovely, but I don’t think that’s quite my size.”

  She giggled, a sound as sultry and as sweet as whipped cream. “No, silly, this is just the wrapping. I’m your present.”

  “Well, colour me surprised,” he answered warily, watching her slink closer, ever aware of her closeness and how hard it was getting to keep his hands off of her.

  Curse his body and its needs. He really needed to get laid at some point soon. Celibacy was fucking with his head. “Especially when you're supposed to be staying with your friends down in the Riviera for Christmas break. And I’ve already wired you the airfare and spending money.”

  She giggled again and cocked her head, her grin positively Cheshire cattish as she tapped a finger to her chin. “Yeah, I know I told you that, but then how else would I ever scrimp and save enough money from my measly little allowance to pay for this.” She ran both hands down the little sexy Santa dress, just to emphasise how obviously expensive the thing was. Or was it so he could see how well the silky material hugged her full breasts and flat belly.

  Josh’s mouth felt impossibly dry as he couldn’t help but notice, not that he hadn’t already. Damn, youth is good these days. “We’ll call it money well spent. Now what are you doing in my bedroom?”

  “Well, it’s like I said Daddy, I’m your present. Tonight I’m all yours...” And with one last little step, she closed the gap.

  “Erica, what are you talking about?”

  “Don’t be coy, Daddy,” she purred, reaching up to finger his buttons. Her light touch was just enough for her fingers to ghost across the hard ridge of Josh’s cut midriff, the eternal testimony to his personal trainer’s perseverance, sending tingles beneath his skin before working their way up. “Mummy never did this for you, did she?” Her hands moved up to touch his face, her skin so soft against his shadowed jaw. “Married all those years, and she never so much as kissed you.”

  That was true enough.

  Josh had known Sonja from way back when. All the way back to play school, in fact.

  They’d stuck together through thick and thin, never more than a few steps apart. But while he had loved her from the very first, for her, he was never anything more than a friend. Her dearest friend, perhaps, the brother she never had, but never more than that. Josh had been so deep in the friend zone, he'd as good as had a map of it tattooed on his arse.

  They’d remained close all the way through their school years, but after that, when he had gone off to Coventry Uni, Sonja had taken a gap year. To find herself, as she’d put it. Instead, she’d found herself up the duff, courtesy of some fucking jerk that had thought it might be fun to ‘stealth’ her, and then had fucked off to distant climbs as fast as his Birkenstocks could carry him when the joke backfired.

  Unbeknownst to him, Sonja’s family were Catholic and while she was not a believer herself, her respect for their beliefs meant she had never gone onto proper birth control.

  Of course, two months later, her condition had started to show, and she'd faced the prospect of telling her parents that she was about to become an unmarried, single mother. The prospect had terrified her; so much so even the unthinkable option of a termination had quickly become the lesser of two evils.

  That is, until Josh had proposed. The plan was simple enough. With his shares skyrocketing and a swiss bank account that would see him welcome at any Tory ball, they could hop onto his company’s new jet, fly over to Vegas and get married. Then her family would never know the truth. She could claim the baby was his. And in Josh’s young, naïve mind, he would finally have a shot with the girl of his dreams. After all, they were married and living as man and wife. Why wouldn’t they be together.

  Unfortunately, Sonja had never quite seen it that way.

  No sooner had they moved in together than she’d made it obvious which rooms would be hers. And so their sham marriage became just that, a sham.

  A show they put on for the world.

  It just so happened he was also putting on a show for Sonja, too. Pretending to be happy with their arrangement when he was anything but.

  He’d thought he’d had them all fooled.

  Seems Erica knew him better than her mother had.

  “She was so mean, but I’m gonna make it all better Daddy.” Delicate fingers fisted in his hair, drawing him in close while she leant up on her tiptoes, her soft lips brushing softly against his. Her eyes drifted closed, and she promised, “Tonight, I’ll be your reward. Your good, obedient little fuck-toy stepdaughter, Daddy...”

  Daddy.

  He hated it when she called him that. Hated the rush it gave him.

  Hated the thrill it sent rushing down to the base of his spine.

  Hated knowing she was just doing it to provoke him.

  It might have been different if she’d called him that when she was little.

  But she hadn’t. She’d never called him it growing up.

  Back then, he’d been Uncle Josh.

  They’d never lied to her. She’d known the truth, even if she’d been too young
to understand the reasons behind it. She’d known he wasn’t her father. Just her mummy’s friend who they lived with.

  Who she could always trust and who would be there for her, no matter what.

  And he’d always done his best to live up to that promise.

  Even after Sonja had passed away, he’d strived to be there for her.

  She’d been well into her teens by then and just called him Josh.

  Sonja’s loss had been hard on them both, but Erica had processed it well. She’d cried and wailed, rebelled, fought, stole, and even ran away. All the usual stages a child that had lost a parent went through. She’d grieved, and Josh had been there for her, weathering the storm until eventually she found the peace that she needed to carry on.

  Then one day, not long after her sixteenth birthday, he’d come home from a long business trip and there she’d been waiting to greet him in the doorway. Before he could say a word, she’d thrown her arms around him and declared, “Daddy’s back.”

  And there it was, the phrase that had shaped his life from then on.

  In retrospect, he should have put a stop to it then, but he’d just handled her the same way he had her mother and just let it go.

  Well, maybe it was time to change that.

  “Tonight, I’ll be your reward, your good, obedient little fuck toy stepdaughter, daddy...”

  Josh knew he should refuse her. Tell her to put some clothes on and go to her room, but when she said it like that, how could he refuse?

  Reaching out, he circled his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. In his arms, she felt deliciously small and delicate. Like fine china that might shatter if he was too rough with her.

  She sighed, burying her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling deep, the delicate scent of his aftershave making her belly do somersaults, before lifting her chin slightly to look him in the eye. He met her stare; the desire reflected in those dark sapphire depths making his cock ache as, with his heart drumming in his chest, he dipped his head. She met him eagerly, rising onto the tips of her toes to press her mouth to his, arching up against him, needing to be as close as possible.