Daddy hugged her back. He couldn’t help but feel her erect nipples against his chest.“I’m sorry princess, I hope you’re not disappointed in me...”“Not at all daddy,” she said moving back a step, but holding him by the hands. Daddy looked down into her eyes. They were big and green and trusting. But there was the faintest trace of a smirk on her lips, suggesting that maybe she wasn’t as naïve as she might have him think.“Forgive me,” daddy said under his breath and pulled his good little girl into. They looked like they could be sisters—maybe even twins.“And the little guy he’s talking to,” Peter whispered, “Benoît Boucher. The art critic. Kind of a big deal around here.”I actually recognized Boucher from his headshot in the paper. Back at Madame’s shop, his was the only column I’d stumbled through before flipping back to the classifieds.Peter grinned, “Don’t let him catch you staring, Pens. Your career might be over before it’s started.”I nodded nervously, and we moved on. Rounding a. More

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