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“Open,” he’s coaxing, nudging her puckered bottom lip with a plastic spoon piled with oatmeal and brown sugar.

Flora glowers at him as if he’s lost his mind. I almost laugh when she huffs and swats the offering, sending it tumbling out of her father’s hand in an arc of oatmeal.

“Hey now.” Lachlan moves to stand behind his friend. “That was not nice.”

I leave the two to figure it out as I head for the coffee pot. I fill a mug and prop a hip against the counter to watch the show.

So far, it’s Flora twenty and fathers zero, but it’s always amusing watching them try and feed her the one breakfast she loathes with a passion.

By the end of it, most of the bowl is smeared across the tabletop, the floor ... Flora. She’s wearing ninety percent of it and looking damn proud of herself for it.

“Little turd,” Lachlan grunts as he drags the sticky child free of her highchair and hauls her off for a bath.

“She never does that with anything else,” Van grumbles as he drops the detached table into the sink

I watch him move over the rim of my drink. I watch his muscles flex and bunch as he stoops to run a wet rag over thefloor. It never fails to amaze me that even after two years, the very sight of them doing basic things has the power to soak my panties.

“You forgot something,” I tell him as he finishes cleaning up and wipes his hands on a rag.

His silver gaze moves over the room, searching. Not finding it, he turns back to me with a comical expression of confusion.

I set my mug down and move to stand in front of him. I see it in his eyes seconds before my fingers hook into his sweats.

“You forgot to feed me.”

His expression darkens even as he grins down at me. “Mouth or cunt?”

I wrap my fingers around the hard girth of his cock and stroke, never once breaking eye contact.

“Where does Daddy want it?”

In the blink of an eye, I find myself face down across the table. My top is torn and tossed to the floor and his dick is sliding in with a deep, satisfied snarl of,“Fuck, yes...”

But that’s all the gentleness I get before he’s got a hand planted between my shoulder blades and he’s pounding into me like he hates me. The wood is rough against my cheek. It scratches my nipples with every propulsion of his body hitting mine, driving me up onto my toes.

The hand at my back lifts and fists into my hair. It twists up all the strands and drags me back for a deeper angle. The perfect angle that hits my favorite spot.

“Van!”

My wail earns a sharp smack across the ass.

“Try again.”

Breathing hard through the explosion of stars as the assault adds to the fire running wild through me.

“Daddy!”

With a pleased grunt, he pounds harder.

The table rattles but stays firmly in place thanks to the bolts Lachlan drilled into the floor to keep the thing from sliding during moments like this. The items on top aren’t so lucky as the slender vase of wildflowers topples over, sending water and foliage across the surface.

Neither of us care as Van’s hand slips around my hips and down on my mound with a stinging smack that tears a cry from me. Nails claw into the wood as I restrain myself from soothing the burn.

We only recently learned I like that, and Van has been using it to his advantage every chance he gets. I love it.

“Again,” I beg, driving my hips back to meet him as I feel the edge inches away. “Again, Daddy. Harder.”

He does, but he follows it up with a pinch and twist of my clit that sends me howling and flailing. Hips thrashing as I cum on him. Soak him. Grip him so hard he snarls into my ear and shoves deeper.