CHAPTER 12 – SUSPICIOUS MINDS #2
That night, I’m in a hesitant mood. Not distant, exactly, but conflicted.
What the fuck am I doing, showing Daisy old pictures of herself?
I hover in the kitchen, grilling steaks, arranging a salad so that it’s a thing of beauty, and bringing the curvy girl a glass of red before she even asks.
It feels like an apology for something I can’t name.
After dinner, I try to help with the dishes, but she waves me off, sending me to the couch while she sings along—soft, warbling, on the edge of pitch—to an old playlist she finds on the home system. Every time I get up to help, she shakes her head. “Sit. I got this.”
I can’t help but watch Daisy as she moves from sink to island to stove, the hem of her dress riding up in the back, her hair in a messy braid that gleams golden in the light.
I feel a sense of quiet admiration, and I try to ignore the knot in my gut.
I can’t look away from her, not even for a second, because if I close my eyes, I can imagine this situation blowing up into smithereens. It’s going to be bad.
But when Daisy finishes cleaning, she wipes her hands on a towel and looks at me with an expression I hope I can read. It’s soft, yes, but also uncertain—like she’s waiting for me to say something important, and I’m not sure I want to say it.
Instead, I crook a finger at her, and she pads over, bare feet silent on the tile. She climbs into my lap, straddling my thighs, arms looping around my neck, her big breasts in my face. For a long time, we don’t speak.
“Are you mad?” she whispers, her voice so tiny it makes my heart ache.
“Why would I be mad?” I run my hands down her back, over the rise of her ass, wanting to reassure her.
She shrugs, biting her lip, and then looks away. “I was weird earlier. With the photos.”
“You weren’t weird,” I reply, trying to calm her. “Just curious. It’s totally fine.”
I hold her for a while, just rocking, until she finally lifts her head and fixes me with those winsome, cornflower blue eyes.
“Can we go to bed?” she asks.
I stand, lifting her like a bride, and carry her to the master suite. Daisy clings tighter, as if afraid I’ll let go and she’ll vanish.
The bedroom is immaculate, shades drawn, the skyline reduced to a smear of neon and black. The king bed takes up half the space, the sheets white silk, the pillows so soft she’ll sink through them. I lay her down gently, then sit beside her, just watching.
For a moment, we both just breathe.
Then she sits up, peels off her dress, and lets it drop to the floor.
She’s nude underneath, skin pale and perfect, a single mole high on her right hip.
I hold her gaze, and for the first time, I feel nervous.
Holy fuck, it feels almost religious to be here with this beautiful girl, about to sample her femininity.
Daisy strips me slowly, letting her eyes wander. I’m already hard, tenting my shorts, and when I kick them off, I notice her bite her lip, a blend of hunger and shyness.
I climb onto the bed, kneeling at her feet. My palms glide up her calves, behind her knees, to the soft underside of her thighs. I spread her legs slowly, revealing that bare pink cunt, and she doesn’t resist.
I bend, kissing the inside of her knee, then higher. When I reach her junction, I can smell her sweet, musky scent thick in the air. I kiss her clit, flick it with my tongue, then tease it with tiny sucks, the way I know she likes.
“Oh, mmm,” she cries out, arching her back. “Yes.”
Her moan is high and broken, and I can feel her hands twisting in the sheets, her hips rolling, desperate to grind against my face. I pull back, just for a second, and look up at her.
“You want it?” I rasp.
She nods, breathless.
I grin and bury my tongue inside her, fucking her with it, my fingers spreading her open so I can get deeper. I slide a finger into her pussy, curl it, and she shrieks, arching off the bed.
“More,” she gasps, and I give her another, then another, fucking her with two fingers as I suck her clit.
“You taste so good, baby girl,” I rasp. “Your pussy is so slutty and horny, and I love it.”
She comes fast, a liquid, sobbing orgasm that shakes her whole body. I don’t stop, not even when she tries to push my head away, desperate. “Please, oh, please, I can’t—”
I kiss my way up her body, biting her hip, then her rib, then her breast, sucking a nipple into my mouth until she moans again. I kneel over her, cock hard and leaking, dragging the tip over her lips.
She opens, sucking me in deep, her mouth so warm and wet I almost lose it right there. I groan but pull out, not wanting to come yet. A string of saliva connects my cock to her lips, and she gasps as it breaks, the loop disappearing into the air.
I turn her over, ass up high, face mashed to the pillow. I grab the lube from the nightstand, coat my fingers, then trace her asshole, rubbing in slow, gentle circles.
“You want this?” I whisper, my voice wrecked. “You want your ass fucked by Daddy’s big cock?”
Daisy moans, high and needy. “Yes, Daddy. Please fuck me in the ass. I love it.”
“Good girl.”
I push a finger in, slow, working her back door open. She shudders, pushing back, taking it like she was born for it. I add a second finger, scissoring her gently, stretching her wider.
“Please, I need your cock, Daddy,” she whimpers. “Please!”
I line myself up, resting the thick head against her hole. “Work yourself onto it,” I rasp. “I want to see how much your horny asshole craves dick.”
The words are foul, but Daisy does, inch by inch, impaling her bottom on my thickness, slow and steady until the whole shaft is in. She gasps, freezes, then lets out a long, shaking breath.
“That’s it,” I soothe, rubbing her back. “Just relax. You did perfect.”
I hold still, letting her adjust to my massive size buried in her rectum, and then start to fuck her, shallow at first, then deeper, each thrust making her moan louder.
I grab her hips, pulling her onto me, fucking her slow and deep. The silk sheets slide under her knees, and I watch the filthy, obscene sight of my huge veiny cock disappearing again and again into her tight asshole. It’s almost enough to make me come.
I lean forward, covering her body with mine, kissing her shoulders and biting her neck. I reach around, finger her clit, and she tightens even more.
“Oh!” she cries out. “Oh oh oh I’m going to—!”
Daisy climaxes again, the sound muffled by the pillow, her whole body trembling as she milks me with her asshole. The tremors are powerful, squeezing around my cock until I can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” I groan, and let go, filling her with bottom with creamy white, thrusting until I’m empty.
I collapse beside her, dragging her into my arms.
We lie together, bodies still damp, breathing hard. I stroke her hair, kiss her temple, and for a long time, neither of us says a word.
Then, Daisy turns, burying her face in my chest, and falls asleep almost instantly.
I stay awake, just listening to her breathe.
An hour later, my phone buzzes. I slip out of bed, pad naked to the living room, and check the screen.
Unknown number.
I answer, voice low. “Yeah?”
“Hunter McCarren?” A woman’s voice, urgent but polite.
“Yeah.”
“This is Eliza Shaw. I’m your stepsister, Tara’s, friend.”
I nod. Right, I remember her somewhat. Eliza’s the one who hooked up with her dad’s best friend, and the two allegedly do sex shows on camera now. Who knew. Still, I keep any judgment out of my voice.
“Eliza,” I say, forcing calm. “Long time.”
“I’m so sorry to call late. I just—I want to check up on Tara,” she babbles. “Her parents told me that she’s staying with you. And she was on the phone with me when she was in that car accident. It must have thrown her for a loop.”
I appreciate the woman’s concern and want to answer truthfully. But I also don’t want to let on that I’ve basically been keeping my stepsister at my place as a sex slave.
I glance down the hall, making sure I hear no noise. “Tara’s fine, Eliza,” I say. “She just needed some time away. She’s safe.”
“Is she okay? Her old phone is dead.”
“Yeah, she’s just resting. The accident shook her, and she quit her job at the cafe to recuperate a little. Mentally, I mean. Physically, she’s fine. She’ll be in touch in no time, I’m sure.”
There’s a long pause.
“Are you sure?” Eliza presses. “Tara wouldn’t ghost me, not for this long. And she’s not picking up for her dad either, which is—”
“Eliza. She’s fine. She’s just taking a break. You know Tara.”
Eliza sighs. “Okay. Sorry. I just… I mean, we always talk and she’s never gone silent for so long.”
“I’ll let her know you called,” I say politely, and hang up before she can say more.
I stand in the dark, staring at the city, phone heavy in my hand.
For a long time, I don’t move.
How long can we keep this up?
I know it can’t last. I know that someday soon, Daisy will remember everything. She’ll remember that she’s actually Tara Monroe.
I wonder if I’ll survive it when she does.
Because she may never forgive me when she realizes what I’ve done.