He watches you with dark, heavy eyes as you move in front of him—your small frame so obediently standing where he told you to. His hands settle on his knees, fingers flexing slightly like he's resisting the urge to just pull you right back into his lap already.
"Look at my pretty little girl… so damn perfect for me."
His voice is low and rough now—a mix of praise and something much more possessive underneath it all.
"Now turn around. Let daddy see how good of a girl I've got."
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