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DADDY’S GIRL



Rose Mechant













Copyright ©2018 Rose Mechant

Published by Rose Mechant

All Rights Reserved

Cover image free to use courtesy of Pixabay.com


No characters in this work are under eighteen years of age. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.





Daddy’s Girl



Whitney clenched her husband’s hand as Dr. Harvey delivered the very news she’d been bracing for. “I’m afraid we’ve tried everything we can, Mrs. Davenport. The only remaining option is adoption.” The tawdry brunette doctor reached into her file folder, laying some pamphlets on her desk. “These are some reliable agencies that would love to adopt to such a reputable family as yours.”


James Davenport returned the pressure on his wife’s hand, offering her a sympathetic flash of his bleach white teeth. “Don’t worry, hon. We’ll expand this family one way or the other.” He accepted the pamphlets as Whitney turned her head. But he noticed her trap a trembling lower lip between her teeth.


“Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t help. Of course, your deposit will be refunded.” Dr. Harvey stood, extending her hand toward Whitney who merely wiped away a nonexistent tear.


“Thank you, Dr. Harvey. We really appreciate everything you’ve done.” James stood, accepting the doctor’s hand with his free one. Then, tucking the pamphlets under one arm, he guided Whitney to her feet. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”


The couple left the clinic, sliding into the back of their limousine as the driver pulled away. “Where to, Mr. Davenport?”


“Home.” Whitney answered for him.


“Is there nothing that will make you feel better?” James rubbed her arm hoping to offer her some comfort.


“A baby.” Whitney huffed, setting her teary gaze out the window.


New York City’s skyscrapers were slow to pass as the traffic was terrible. How long would he be trapped in a car with a miserable wife. What solace could he offer her for her infertility woes? “We still have Tiffany. She’ll always be our baby.”


“She’s eighteen and going away to college! I’m going to be all alone forever!” Whitney buried her face in her hands. “I just want another little girl. Is that too much to ask?”


James’ eyes grew wide, darting to the driver who thankfully kept his gaze straight ahead. “Whitney Davenport, quiet yourself. We’ll simply adopt. It’ll be fine. We still have all summer in Aspen with Tiffany. You can relish our precious baby girl while we wait for the adoption papers to go through.”


“I don’t want to adopt. I want our own flesh and blood!” Whitney stomped a heeled foot on the floorboard, her extreme cleavage jiggling in such an inviting way that James’ cock stirred.


His fingers slid along the control panel, depressing the button for the privacy shield. Turning toward his wife, he gently guided her fingers down, bringing his own to cup her perfect soft jaw.


Red-rimmed green eyes peered into him. “I just want to give you another baby, our baby.”


He nodded his sympathy, but he didn’t really care one way or the other if they had any more kids. A boy would be nice. Carry on the Davenport name. His cock went limp again as Whitney snorted and began to complain.


“To think there’s teenage girls out there that get pregnant when a boy looks at them.” Her hand went up making slashing motions in the air. “And poor people, they pop out babies on a taxpayer’s dime and don’t get me started on the drug addicts. Everyone knows the drugs make them more fertile. Maybe we should’ve done them, we’d have a dozen kids.”



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