2. Chapter 2
Fire laces up from the floor to the top of my head. She's fucking staying alright.
There are two ways this could go.
One, I heat up leftover pasta then set her up in the guest room. Close the door between us and sit in my office and beat my dick off until it's red and raw.
Or, option two, I could be the father figure that turns into something else. Something I know she fucking needs and I blow up both of our lives.
I'm moving forward knowing which option I choose. I stop in front of the couch and look down and she looks up at me with a flutter of her lashes. Ten inches of ravenous cock is thick and throbbing down the leg of my jeans and no fucking way she doesn't see it.
"Stand up." I order, tossing back the last of my bourbon then lowering the glass to sit next to hers on the coffee table.
She pushes herself up and everything feels like it's in slow motion.
Last chance to stop this asshole.
Fuck off, this is happening.
The top of her head barely clears my chin. I'm six-five, built like something designed to absorb impact. Heavy in a way that hasn't gone soft even though I traded the fleet for a lens years ago.
Next to me she's a reed. Bangs in her eyes, trembling, curvy like a woman but still innocent like the girl I cradled when the thunder got too loud and she needed protection from the monsters under her bed.
What about the ones on top of it?
I brush my fingertips against a thread of her hair, tuck it behind her ear. My thumb traces the line of her jaw and she leans into me, just enough to understand her hesitant consent.
The sound she makes, this small gutted exhale of relief, goes through me like a blade.
"We shouldn't," she whispers.
"No?"
"You're my stepdad."
"I was way fucking more than that, wasn't I?" I drag my thumb across her lower lip and her mouth opens. I let it drift inside, wet and warm, and something I've held together for too long snaps off. She doesn't pull back. She curls her fingers around my wrist and holds me there.
"I've wanted to touch you for so long." The confession tastes like fire.
Her eyes pop and a warm exhale ghosts over the back of my hand as I pull my thumb from her mouth. "Grant — "
"You showed up here. And you're looking at me like — "
"Like what?"
"Like talking isn't all you need."
The wrecked girl who knocked on my door is gone. What's looking at me now is reckless and honest and sexy as fuck and so young, I hear the devil laughing from his permanent place on my shoulder.
"I was awake," she whispers and any air inside the room is sucked out.
Is she saying what I think she's saying? I swallow around the knot in my throat.
"Is that so?" I make my answer deliberately non-committal.
She nods. "I pretended to be asleep because I thought if you knew I was awake, you'd leave. And never come back."
Jesus. Christ.
"And you didn't want me to leave?" My balls are drawn so tight, I see stars.
Wren moves her lips to my chest like she's talking directly to my fucking heart. "I tried to be still. I wanted you to do more. To keep going. But, you still didn't come back. The next day, you told me you were leaving. I thought it was my fault."
"Fuck, Wren, baby, no. It wasn't your fault.
It was Daddy's fault. Do you know hearing that makes me love you even more?
I wanted to do more, I wanted to check to be sure you were still my little girl.
But, I knew it was wrong. Wanting to fuck you, because in my heart, I thought of you as my daughter. "
Her throat works as things burn in my chest and my groin. "Who better to teach me than my father?"
Jesus Christ, this girl. So fucking perfect. So fucking sweet and dirty. She's made me feel like a king since the moment I met her and right now?
She just put a fucking crown on my head.
"You want Daddy to finish what he started that night?"
Another nod, zero hesitation. "The only time I get that achy feeling down low is when I think of you. I hated being close to any other boys, but I thought you didn't want me after that night. I wanted you to be jealous and—"
"Oh, I'm jealous alright." I bark. "I'm gonna put my dick inside you and check that you're telling Daddy the truth about those other boys."
"I am telling the truth." She wiggles as she says it. "Like right now. I'm hot and sticky and that feeling in the center of me makes me want to feel you rubbing on me like you did that night."
"Well, Daddy needs to check on that." I seethe, my knuckles dragging over the hard nub of her nipple. Up and down, up and down watching her tongue trace her bottom lip.
"You can check whatever you want."
I kiss her and there is nothing gentle about all the denial breaking at once. Both hands on her face, fingertips crushing into her cheeks, taking her mouth apart with mine. She tastes like bourbon and velvet sin and I am fucking gone for this girl.
She fists the front of my shirt and hauls me in and the sound she makes against my teeth I feel at the base of my spine.
I send one hand to tangle in her hair. I pull her head back and take her mouth deeper and she gasps and arches into me and my cock strains against my zipper hard enough to white out my peripheral vision.
Her hips grind forward and the noise that comes out of my chest would embarrass me if I had room for anything besides the feel of her — small and fierce and pressing into me like she's trying to crawl inside my fucking soul.
"Tell me to stop," I manage against her mouth. Not that I could, but the tension that gives her a moment of choice builds, turns up the volume on everything.
"No. I love you. I've been needy for so long."
"Wren. You're my sweetheart. My beautiful little girl." I grip her jaw, force her eyes to mine. "If you don't stop me, I'm going to put my mouth on your pussy and make you come and then I'm going to fuck you on this couch. And I won't be sorry. Or gentle. Or fast."
She reaches between us and presses her palm flat against my cock. "I don't want you to be sorry. And I'm going to do it more than once."
I drop to my knees, pushing her down as I go, feeling like this is all some fever dream but I never want to wake up.
I've got my hands on her hips, pushing her back onto the cushions. She lands with a gasp and I hook my fingers in the waistband of those ridiculous shorts.
"Unbutton and unzip these. I'm going to check if you're telling me the truth about this little pussy still being pure."
She works the front of her shorts until they're open and I drag them down her legs revealing the little light blue cotton and lace fabric with a fucking little white bow that's underneath.
She lifts her hips for me to take them but I shake my head.
"No, the panties stay on." The idea of pushing her panties aside just enough to get inside that virgin heaven she's saved for me drives me to the edge of sanity. Seeing her willing and spread on my couch, there's no turning back.
I've pictured this. In the shower. At my desk with my cock in my fist and her name in my teeth. The reality guts the fantasy and leaves it bleeding on the floor.
"Grant." She's trembling.
"Lift up your shirt, then hold these to the side so I can see." I pepper kisses down the inside of her calf as she does as she's told, popping off her little white sneakers as she lifts the hem of the sweatshirt above her tits. "That's my good girl."
She fucking hums as she glides the tip of her fingers between the apex of her thigh and the elastic around her leg and pulls it aside.
"Christ." I choke as her breathing stalls. On my knees, admiring the landscape of her body from this angle, I'm breathless.
Her pussy is nearly bare. Just a little dark runway of curls at the top and her tits, Jesus. Seeing them in her bathing suits, I thought I'd be prepared for this, but I'm not.
I'm so fucking not.
Her breasts are more womanly than the rest of her body. She's always been lean, athletic by nature but the curve of her tits sitting on the tightness of her ribcage is a juxtaposition in sin.
I let my gaze linger there before running down the concave dip of her abdomen, then feast my eyes back on the ultimate prize.
"Please…" She arches her back, her little toes curl as I lift them to the edge of the sofa cushion and position her wide.
"Please what?" I drag my thumb up the center of her and her whole-body jerks.
She's fucking soaked and the knowledge that she's this wet for me, for the man who hoisted her onto his shoulders at Fourth of July parades so she would have a better view, should stop me dead.
It makes me drag my thumb back down, slower, watching her hips chase the pressure.
What a genuinely fucked-up man I am. "Tell me what you need. "
"What you're doing, more. Please — " She whimpers, those pupils taking over her eyes, like something is clawing up her throat she didn't know lived there. "Please, Daddy."
Her tender pink cunt is as beautiful as anything I've seen in my life. It's silk and petals and shimmering juices that reach out and dig their claws into my balls and tug.
"I'm in love with your pussy already baby." I lean in and breathe heavy and loud then brush my lips over those curls, swiping my tongue over the hard little hooded nub.
"Daddy."
The word detonates in the center of my chest. Not because it shocks me.
Because it doesn't. Because some sick, ruined corner of me has been waiting to hear it from this mouth, in this voice, in this new way and now that I have there is no amount of post-processing in the world that can undo what's happening here.
She freezes. Stares at me. "I didn't mean — "
"Say it again." I grit out, grinding my knuckle against her clit.
"I — "
"Wren." I smack her thighs apart and settle between them, my mouth close enough to feel heat radiating off her and her scent, Jesus, it could topple kingdoms. "Say. It. Again. Or I won't fucking lick you."
"Daddy." Her voice is like a windchime in a storm. "Daddy. Daddy, please."
"Atta girl."