When Roger and Rowan found out they were going to be parents again, they were happily
surprised. When their musician daughter Ashley returned home to help them take care
of their newborn, they were pleased. But what none of them counted on were the desires
that her presence would invoke. Now they are all caught in a firestorm of passion,
fanned by the flames of...Daddy's Little Witch.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“Hello?” she called, entering the house. “Anyone home?”
“Ashley?” There was a long pause. Upstairs a door opened and closed, and her
father appeared, looking like he had dressed in a hurry. In fact, he was still pulling
a t-shirt down over his well-muscled chest as he reached the foot of the stairs.
He grinned at her in happy surprise and pulled her into a warm, welcome-home hug.
“What are you doing here? I thought you had that Renaissance Faire to play in Columbus
this week. At least, that's what your webpage said.”
“Daddy!” she exclaimed in fond exasperation. “Don't be ridiculous. Do you think
I'd be three hundred miles away when my baby sister is about to be born?”
“What about the band?”
“We picked up a fiddle player who can fill in for the next few gigs. His name
is Jeremy Riddell. He's good. Real good. Knows almost as many tunes as I do. He has
this old Norwegian fiddle he inherited from his grandfather, and Lord and Lady, can
he make her sing.
“So where's Momma?”
“She's upstairs, getting dressed,” he said. To her amusement, he blushed scarlet.
“We were...taking a nap.”
“You mean you were making love,” she corrected him, smiling as he blush deepened.
“Good grief, Dad, it's not like I grew up ignorant. I knew you and Momma made love.”
She smiled wickedly, enjoying watching him squirm. “A lot. How many times did I come
home from school to find out you had left work at noon to 'spend some time' with
“All right, you got us. That's what we were doing.”
“But...how?” she asked curiously. “It's got to be...uncomfortable, as big as
“I'm not going to give you all the details,” he said repressively. “You're
still my daughter. You just have to be...a little inventive. And a lot careful.”
“And fond of spooning,” her mother put in, slowly walking down the stairs,
clutching the bannister in one hand. “Lucky for me, I am.”
Ashley looked at her mother, and her entire life changed in that instant.
Rowan was gloriously, majestically pregnant. Her swollen belly pushed out in
front of her like a sail in a high breeze, taut and full. Her breasts were larger
than Ashley had ever seen them, obviously full of milk for her son-to-be born child.
She looked like a radiant earth-Goddess, fertile and full of life.
I want that. The thought came to her mind unbidden. I want to look like that.
Big and full with a baby growing inside of me. With a startled jerk, she realized
her nipples were hot and tight inside the loose t-shirt and unbuttoned flannel shirt
she had worn for the long drive home. Lower down, the lips of her sex were slippery
with her fluid. She fought back a moan. A man. I need a man. To give me his seed.
To make my belly swell up with his baby inside me. Then to give birth and do it again.
To breed his children. Over and over again. My children. His children. His breeder.