Chapter 19
I cried in the shower and while brushing my teeth and then went to my room to cry some more. Not my father’s bedroom, but the guestroom he’d brought me to the day I arrived in New York.
I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours before I was awoken by nightmares of roasting to death in a hot car like a forgotten dog. The sheets felt cold against my legs, a startling contrast considering I’d been burning in my sleep. I stared at the ceiling and flinched as the night came rushing back.
My father was exiting my life again, only this time, I was the one walking out the door.
I had tricked myself into believing I’d forgiven him on the first day of my visit, when in truth, I had only set my pain and anger aside. Yet, in doing so, I’d made room for other things, like hunger and curiosity. Admiration and desire.
And love, so much love.
It wasn’t until I heard the real story that I was able to truly forgive him, which was undoubtedly the opposite of what my mother had intended by coming here. But my forgiveness was irrelevant as long as he refused to forgive himself. In my naiveté, I’d assumed that learning the truth would bring us together. When instead, it became the wedge that ultimately tore us apart.
Had I been patient and waited until I’d started college to visit my father, my mother wouldn’t have shown up at his door with a bag of old drawings and accusations. He wouldn’t have had to confront the awfulness she saw in him.
Rolling onto my side, I pressed my cheek to the pillow, still damp with tears. As close as we were—which was closer than we would have been if he hadn”t left—it wasn’t close enough to bridge the gap between the man he thought he was and the monster he was terrified of becoming.
In the end, maybe we were both monsters for wanting what was forbidden.
The doorknob creaked and clicked in the darkness. Footsteps padded softly all the way to the bed.
My pulse spiked. Was he here to make one last contour line drawing of his sleeping daughter before she erased herself from his life?
A draft of tepid air hit my back as the covers lifted. The mattress dipped. A warm body spread out alongside me, solid and consoling. I wanted to press against it, to align myself with the wall of hard muscle, but I was afraid I might never get up again if I did. I had meant what I said about the pain of loving him halfway. Maybe I could’ve settled for a normal father-daughter relationship before, but now that I knew how it felt to be kissed and touched and desired by him, there was no pretending that normal would ever be enough.
“Sweetheart?” He caressed my back, the heat from his hand sinking through my thin tank top. “You awake?”
I turned my face to the ceiling but said nothing. He slid his arm under my neck then pulled me against him, tucking his leg between my calves. There was no telling where he ended and I began.
“No one will ever love you like I do, Paige.” He didn’t say it like a threat. Just a fact. Most girls had a father and a lover, two distinct streams of affection. One paternal, one romantic. Somehow, I had managed to tap into both streams from the same man. It wouldn’t matter if I had a thousand lovers after him, none could ever love me quite the same as that.
“So, love me,” I said.
He kissed my earlobe, his breath washing over my cheek in gentle gusts. I felt his cock harden through his boxer briefs, and I loved that I could do that to him just by being there. My father had captured me from every angle, awake and asleep, naked and clothed. He loved me for the woman I was, not for who or what I was supposed to be.
“This should feel wrong,” he said. “Why doesn’t it feel wrong to us?”
I swallowed the stone in my throat. “Supposedly there’s this thing, this condition or whatever, called genetic sexual attraction.”
“Trust me, I know what GSA is. I looked it up as soon as you got here.” He slid his hand under my tank top to stroke my bare skin. “I swear, I never wanted anything like this when you were little. I need to know you believe me.”
“I believe you.”
He pressed his teeth to my shoulder but didn’t bite down. “The day you were born was the second-happiest day of my life.”
“What was the first?”
His lips brushed my neck. “The day you came back to me.”
And there it was, the sense of safety and comfort I feared had been lost for good.
I craned my neck to grant him access to my mouth. He kissed me as if he were in danger of drowning and my breath was the only thing keeping him afloat. His hands glided up my shirt to squeeze and cup my breasts. I whimpered around his tongue.
His cock nudged my backside, firm and insistent. I pushed my ass against him. He hummed low in his throat and fluttered his fingertips over my nipples, his erection prodding the back pane of my underwear.
“We’re really going to do this,” he rasped.
I turned in his arms so I could look at him. Lights from the neighboring buildings washed his face in cool blue tones.
“Only if you promise not to hate yourself afterward.”
He caressed my side, his expression torn. I stroked his jaw and then slid my hand all the way down to his waistband. His stomach muscles quivered. I pressed a kiss to his collarbone and walked the trail of hair below his navel with my fingers. A soft groan fell from his open mouth.
“You have to want this as much as I do,” I said. “I won’t be a tool you use to punish yourself. You have to be sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said. My nipples puckered as he lifted my shirt. “I’ve never been more certain about anything.”
Easing me onto my back, he dipped his head to take my nipple into his mouth. My clit pulsed like a miniature heart centered between my thighs, beating faster and faster as he teased my breast with his tongue. I rested my hands on his back, then tangled them in his hair when his playful teasing devolved into torture.
“Please, Daddy…”
He released my nipple with a wet smack. “Please what, baby?”
“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” I licked my lips. “I need you.”
My father rose to his knees and helped me pull my shirt off. He took his time admiring my nakedness, until I latched onto him like a thing possessed, pushing my pebble-hard nipples upward to meet his chest. We kissed like our survival depended on how thoroughly we could wear out our tongues. He gripped my hips and rocked his erection against me, sending dull throbs of agonizing desire into my bones.
I couldn’t take it any longer. Reaching between us, I freed his cock from the trap of his underwear and encircled the shaft. After a few pumps and a couple of desperate grunts, I yanked the crotch of my underwear aside and guided him to my folds.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, catching my fist. I nearly sobbed in frustration. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
“What does that even mean?”
He laughed softly—an infuriating sound. He kissed my chin, then my throat, continuing in a straight line down my stomach, pausing only to lick a circle around my belly button.
Gooseflesh pricked up across my skin. As exasperated as I felt to be put off yet again, I had a feeling he was about to make it worth my while. He wrapped his arms around my thighs and settled between my legs.
If I’d known my father was going to come face-to-face with my panties, I would’ve chosen a newer, sexier pair. He smiled at the cartoon-flower pattern.
“How long have you had these?”
My cheeks burned. “A while…”
I reached for the waistband with every intention of taking them off.
“No, don’t.” He waved my hands away. “They’re adorable.”
I shielded my face in embarrassment until he began to kiss me. First the rosebuds, then the violets, each soft peck provoking a tiny burst of arousal, like biting down on a blackberry fresh off the vine. The crotch of my panties was practically soaked through by the time he finished with the tulips.
Pressing the tip of his nose to the damp spot, he inhaled deeply, then groaned. “All right, fuck it. I need to taste you.”
He slid my panties off and settled between my legs. I’d lost track of the number of times we’d done this, but the hunger in his gaze when he saw my pussy for the first time in a while never failed to undo me.
“You have the most luscious pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He parted my lips with his thumbs and planted a kiss just above my clit. I shivered, my breath hitching with excitement. “I could spend the rest of my life between your thighs. In fact, I intend to do so.”
My blood turned to honey in my veins, slow and sweet and golden. I wanted to kiss him but he was too far away, so I nibbled my fingers instead. He traced my inner labia with the tip of his tongue and then fucked into me. I gasped as his nose met my clit. His tongue delved deeper, wriggling like something I’d only ever seen in a deep-sea documentary, or a Japanese animated cartoon. It felt as titillating as it was obscene.
I writhed uncontrollably, my hips lifting off the bed. He stilled me with his strong arms.
“Too much?” The tilt of his smile made it clear he knew exactly how much—or how little—it took to make his daughter flail around like a fish on the dock.
I went limp and struggled against my racing pulse to catch my breath.
My father dipped his head and licked my pussy from bottom to top. I melted like ice cream in the summer sun. He flattened his tongue and lapped languidly, focusing on my clit. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the feeling of having my bones reduced to gelatin.
He flicked and fluttered before easing into a steady rhythm. A warm flush swept through me. My nipples pebbled, aching to join in on the fun. I massaged my breasts and played with my nipples, ratcheting my pleasure even higher. His tongue disappeared for a second and then returned along with two slick fingers. He teased my opening, then slipped inside. I cried out at the delicious incursion.
He sucked my clit softly. Tiny eruptions of pleasure lit up my brain like fireworks. He added a third finger, fucking into me while his lips and tongue worked their magic.
My arousal crested. I felt the urge to bear down, to clench up, to be everywhere at once. I came around my father’s fingers, my arms and legs spasming. He fixed his mouth over me, playing with my clit and stretching my orgasm out until it became too much and I had to wave him off.
He flashed a glossy smile. “Fuck, I love making you come.”
“Me, too.” I grinned. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“My pleasure, baby.”
He wiped his face with the sheet and then crawled up to kiss my mouth. He’d left a thin sheen on his lips just for me. I hummed my enjoyment and savored the delicate tang. His cock nudged my belly, smearing a drop of precum above my navel. I took him in my hand, stroking lightly, and coaxed a low growl from his throat.
“Christ. My balls feel like dead weight.” He shuddered as I swirled my thumb around the tip. “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”
I cradled his jaw and forced him to meet my gaze. “Are you?”
A taut moment of silence passed as he studied me. I bit my lips together and kept them clinched even after they started to hurt.
“I want you so fucking much,” he said, his voice strained. “Too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“The only way you could hurt me now is by letting me go.”
My father laid his hand between my breasts, over my heart, then skimmed his fingers down my body. Arousal bloomed fresh between my thighs. I whined softly. His gaze darkened as he squeezed me gently with his whole palm.
Please, I thought, don’t push me away. Let me stay with you.
I pressed against him, needy and insistent. He reached for his cock. My heartrate picked up speed as he positioned the head at my opening.
“Put your arms around me,” he said.