Free Their Little Girl by L.J. Anderson Page A

wouldn’t be a burden, that I could be useful around the house, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of him.
    Not knowing what else to do, I finally broke down one day and began begging him, telling him I’d do anything if he’d just let me stay...
    “Honestly, Erica? Do you really think so little of me?” my stepfather asked as I sobbed hysterically, sounding completely affronted by my desperate pleas for him not to send me to my mother.
    “I wasn’t... I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just – I couldn’t imagine you wanting me to stay after the way my mother treated you,” I cried, hoping he wouldn’t be upset.
    His eyes raked over me a moment before he held out his arms, ready to wrap me in his strong embrace. Without hesitation, I melted into his touch, basking in the warmth of human contact, feeling loved and cherished – something that I’d been missing for so long.
    “Of course you can stay, sweetie. You didn’t even have to ask,” he whispered, his velvet voice making my skin prickle with awareness as he pulled me closer.
    I could hardly remember the last time someone had touched me much less hugged me.
    “I needed that,” I replied, my rough voice teetering somewhere between a laugh and sob.
    Once I’d managed to step a few feet back, my gaze traveled up to his face, searching for some indication that he realized the gravity of what he’d just given me, the weight that had been lifted from my tiny frame. When my eyes met his, I was taken aback at what I saw – a strange glint in his stormy grey eyes, a darkness I’d never noticed before.
    Leaning in, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his gaze beckoning me inexplicably closer.
    What is this?
    “I think I needed it too,” he said finally, his expression reverting to normal, breaking the peculiar connection. The speed in which things shifted only managed to make me wonder if my mind had just been playing tricks on me.
    Emotions were high, so he was probably just upset, I reasoned.
    Not wanting him to sense my sudden unease, my lips formed a false smile as I tried to find a way to snap out of the trance I seemed to be under. “Th-thank you,” I stuttered slightly, unsure of what had happened.
    “No need to thank me, Erica. That’s what Daddies are for.” His tone was teasing, but I felt his finger pressing firmly against my chin, urging me to look up at him, giving me no choice but to meet his dark grey eyes.
    In the past, Mark had been more of a friend than a father figure. Growing up without my birth father hadn’t exactly made me an expert on what it meant to have a dad or what one was supposed to act like. But this ... the way he was looking at me, the way it felt when he hugged me... it didn’t feel fatherly, and yet the thought of calling him Daddy excited me in ways I didn’t understand.
    And I liked it. A lot.
    “You’re the best Daddy a girl could ask for,” I told him shyly, testing the new name on my tongue. I didn’t even pretend to deny how right it felt, especially when his eyes darkened again in response. The shift between us somehow became palpable, like I could reach out and touch the delicious, crackling tension and hold it my hand.
     
     
    ...
     
     
    As time passed, I made sure to do all the housework and cooking. I even made sure to have all of Daddy’s work shirts pressed to perfection. Just knowing I could keep him happy was really important to me, because I never wanted to be a burden to anyone, least of all to a man who had been so generous and caring to me.
    Sometimes I’d catch him watching me, though – whenever I walked in the room, his eyes would change like before, glinting darkly, becoming almost possessive.
    It was as if he wanted something from me – but what?
    There were days when I thought I was beginning to understand the looks that passed between us, the strange draw I couldn’t explain. My body’s reactions to those looks seemed to change – fluttering and excitement morphed into