The DILF (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

1: In Which She Sees Too Much

1: In Which She Sees Too Much

***************************************

"And then what happened?" Ophelia asked eagerly, all but rocking her entire bed – as well as me – as she bounced up and down in anticipation of the end of her bedtime story.

"And then the prince kissed her and she woke up," I told her, trying in vain to get her to settle down.

Finally, Fee obliged me and crumpled in a heap before slipping beneath her covers. "But if she'd been sleeping for a hundred years, wasn't she too old for the prince?"

I sighed, pulling the covers up to her chin. I had to grudgingly admit that Ophelia was far too smart for fairytale stories. Sure, she liked them well enough, but she questioned every little thing – Why didn't Giuseppe just adopt a little boy like in Annie? How did the prince in Snow White know what he was supposed to do? Gross – did she really kiss that frog?

"The castle was magic," I replied gently. "She didn't get old." I paused. "Staying young was actually a gift, don't you think?"

"No, 'cause when you're young, you can't wear boobs and I think they're nice."

Winded, I was torn between bursting into a fit of laughter and scolding the girl. I eventually chose to tell her off.

"Fee, who told you that?"

A guarded look was suddenly painted on her face. "No one."

I sighed. "You can't say the word boob, Ophelia. It's naughty. Understand?"

You would make an awful parent. 'Naughty'? Really?

Ophelia nodded. "Okay." She paused, sticking her tongue out at me. "Aurora," she added, using my full name.

I sighed. "Under no circumstances are you to call me that. I bet Princess Aurora preferred Rory, too."

Ophelia shook her head emphatically. "Aurora's prettier. Rory's a boy's name."

"Let's agree to disagree, okay?" I laughed, getting to my feet. "Now, goodnight, Fee. You have lessons tomorrow."

"Rory, can I ask you something?"

Uh-oh, I thought guardedly, freezing in the doorway. The last time she'd wanted to "ask me something", she'd ended up asking a most difficult and unanswerable question: Why doesn't Devin love me?

I still burned with anger when I thought of this little girl thinking that her father was irritated by her very existence. Of course, it must have been a huge shock for Devin to discover that he'd fathered a child with one of his many girlfriends, but Ophelia was such an extraordinarily smart, beautiful, sweet child, he must have realised how lucky he was.

But no.

Over the four months I'd been there, Devin had spent, at most, ten minutes with his daughter and two of those minutes were idled away by popping a DVD into the DVD player and leaving her to it. He ate his meals whenever he felt like it, which was why mealtimes – as fun as they could be – were just Fee and me. I hated to think about what she'd done before I'd come into the picture; how she must have sat at the enormous dining table alone every day, picking at her gourmet food in silence.

No wonder the poor thing thinks he doesn't love her.

I'd been orphaned at eighteen, but Ophelia had no parents at six, and that was a million times worse. Dumped by her mother and ignored by her father, she was probably hurting inside, although one would never think it to look at her.