“I’m so happy!” I cry out as I stand and search Dad’s eyes. He’s frowning and his scowl is in place. As handsome and as fierce as he looks with blood splattered all over his bearded face, I like him better clean so we can kiss. “Go sit in the chair.”
He blinks away his daze and offers me a small smile before doing as he is told. With haste, he strips out of his outerwear and sweatshirt until he’s wearing nothing but his jeans and socks. I feed Buddy some leftover rabbit pieces and make him a bowl of water. He seems content to lie on the bearskin rug, gnawing on the meat.
When I turn to look at Dad, he’s seated wearing a predatory glare that makes me shiver. I boil some water and then prepare to clean him. My eyes skitter over his chest every chance they get. His muscles are a work of art. I set to washing the blood from his face and hair. His dark brown eyes bore into mine. He’s extra intense tonight. I mean, he did kill someone. I’m guessing that would make anyone intense. Instead of feeling frightened, I feel relieved. He’s living up to his promise to protect me no matter the cost.
“Do you remember the last time we planned to go to the movies before we came out here?” His voice is strained. Hoarse.
I stroke my fingers through his hair. “Of course I do.” It was one of the first times I’d felt unusual hormonal sensations surging through me. With my dad of all people. As I clean him, I think back to that day.
I’ve never been on a date. I’m not old enough Dad says. But every time he and I go out together, I pretend that’s exactly what it is. He always dresses nice—a lot nicer than the dumb guys I’m friends with who live in the neighborhood. I’m proud he’s at my side. And I always go the extra mile for him too. Since Mom won’t go with him, I think he deserves someone pretty on his arm. Someone womanly. Tonight, instead of my usual jeans and T-shirts, I chose a powder blue sundress that compliments my eyes and hair. I coupled it with strappy tan sandals and straightened my hair smooth. When it’s soft like this, Dad absently touches it a lot. I like when he touches my hair. Normally, I’m not one for a lot of makeup but tonight I doll myself up for him. Earlier, in the hot tub, he seemed angry with me. I don’t want him to be mad.
Once I spritz on some perfume, I grab a small clutch and hurry down the stairs. He’s waiting, looking young and handsome, in a pair of charcoal slacks and a white button-down shirt. The shirt is ironed crisp and he’s left the two buttons undone at his throat. He’s also rolled up his sleeves revealing his toned forearms. I smile because he looks really nice.
When our eyes meet, his eyes quickly roam down the front of my body before he shakes his head. “No.”
Hurt clutches my heart and I frown. “No?”
“That dress…” His jaw clenches and looks away. “It’s too…fancy.”
I look down at the summer dress with the plunging neckline. Sure it’s fitted and silky but not fancy. “Dad,” I pout. “I like this dress.”
“The dress isn’t the problem,” he grumbles. “It’s how people will react when they see you in it.”
I smile. “You afraid I’m going to find a boyfriend tonight?”
He doesn’t laugh like I expect him to. Instead, he frowns and his fingers run through my smooth hair. “You’re too pretty.”
My heart does a little flutter at his words. “So protect me from those creeps,” I tell him, beaming. “That’s what dads do.” I grab onto his forearm and he tenses. All I get is a clipped nod of agreement. It’s enough.
Thirty minutes later and we’re zipping through town in Dad’s black sports car. We pass by the movie theater and I frown in confusion. He drives us all the way out to where the piers are and parks along the side of the road. As soon as I step out of the car, I can smell seafood and my stomach growls.
“I thought we’d have dinner instead. That dress is too nice to waste in a dinky theater,” he says gruffly.
My heart blooms like a flower. He takes my hand and I don’t feel like his young daughter. I feel like a beautiful woman on the arm of a handsome man. These people don’t know us. They might assume we’re a couple. The thought is a dangerous one but it’s not unwelcome. It sends tingles of warmth trickling through me. He squeezes my hand and I grin.
“We’d like an outdoor table that overlooks the bay,” Dad tells the hostess.
The hostess smiles and shows us to the table. I can’t help the embarrassed blush that creeps up my neck when Dad pulls my chair out for me. His fingers run through my silky strands for just a moment causing me to shiver. Then, he sits across from me, his brown eyes darker than usual.
“When you’re eighty and allowed to start dating,” he teases with a wolfish grin that turns my insides to mush. “You set that man straight on how you’re to be treated.”
I nod and smile. “I’m taking notes.”
He smirks which causes foreign heat to flood through me. His leg brushes against mine under the table and it sets my nerves alive. We order our food and Dad asks for a bottle of wine. The server doesn’t question my age. Simply brings out the expensive bottle and pours it into our glasses.
Dinner is fun. We laugh and talk and enjoy our food. We’re both excited about our upcoming Alaskan adventure. I can see the delight dancing in Dad’s eyes. He’s ready for this next step. I’m ready too. Selfishly, I’m looking forward to more time with him. He works so much that I feel like I never see him. As the alcohol buzzes through my system, I find myself accidentally brushing against his legs more often. His eyes are positively manic as he stares at me. I don’t understand the look but it seems to make my heart thunder in my chest.
After dinner, he guides me into a bar where people are dancing. He orders shots but only lets me have one. I pout and he laughs. His fingers, as if having a mind of their own, toy with a lock of my hair. I’m not sure that any date will ever be able to top this one with my dad. When the alcohol has him loose and laughing more often, he whisks me into the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies. The music is fast and we both start moving to the beat. He’s all smiles and I like when his hands keep touching my hips. It feels as though he burns me each time he does it. At one point, I’m dancing in front of him with my back to his chest when his palm rests against my stomach. Burning desire surges through me. His other palm slides down my ribs and I let out an embarrassing moan that is thankfully covered by the music.
I’m drunk.
The feelings creeping through me are because of the alcohol.
His fingers slide further down my stomach. I don’t think he realizes his pinky is touching my pubic bone. I’m so aroused that I’m dizzy. My panties are soaked with desire and my dress is drenched in sweat. When my knees buckle, he grabs me suddenly, his strong forearm just under my breasts.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, his voice panicked against my ear. “Are you sick?”
“Dizzy. I’m just dizzy.”
He pulls me to his side and guides me away from the dance floor. Once outside of the busy bar, he finds a sole chair on the corner of the deck. The wind is cooler now that the sun has set and it chills my skin. He sits in the chair and pulls me into his lap. Our bodies are sticky with sweat but the wind makes me shiver.
“Just let the alcohol wear off. I shouldn’t have let you have that shot,” he says, shame coating his voice. His fingers run through my hair and my belly seems to flop.
I snuggle against him for warmth. “I’ll be fine in a minute. I just got too hot. Now I’m freezing.” I laugh at the silliness of it.
His arms pull me tighter to him. Dad is warm and safe and strong. I start to drift off. His palm is rubbing circles on my lower back but eventually he stops and lets it rest on my butt. I don’t think he realizes where he’s touching me, but I don’t correct him. I like his hand there.
I wake up later to him carrying me to my bed. I don’t remember much but I’m eager for sleep. He removes my shoes and then covers me up with my quilt. I’m quiet as his fingers stroke my hair. His lips press to my forehead and he whispers something I almost don’t hear.
“I promise I won’t allow myself to have another selfish night like tonight.”
My heart sinks because his selfish night was the best one of my life. But when he stalks away, I can’t help but smile in the dark.
He didn’t pinky promise.
“I wanted you that night,” I admit, my voice shaky.
His dark brown eyes sear into mine. “You did?”
“You were angry with me after the hot tub and I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted to please you. That’s why I dressed so pretty. For you.” I smile as I set the rag back down on the table.
His features are wild. An animal behind his eyes. “I wasn’t angry. I was disgusted at myself. You rubbed up against me. It made my dick hard. I thought I was a sick fuck.”
I frown and shake my head. “You’re not sick. You were never sick.”
He scowls. “Took it out on your mother.” Shame flickers in his gaze. “But I wasn’t satisfied. Something forbidden was festering inside of me. I wasn’t sure how to turn it off. That night, I selfishly wanted to pick at that internal wound if only for one night. I wouldn’t have done anything to cross the line but I just needed…”
I look at him from under my lashes, a shy heat burning across my cheeks. “I was dizzy on that dance floor because of the way you were touching me. I wanted more. I wanted it all. I wasn’t sure how to process that thought. Your fingers were so close.”
He growls and rubs at the back of his neck. “I almost touched you that night. The alcohol confused me. My eyes were closed. I was lost in the moment. If you wouldn’t have spoken, I’m afraid I might have rubbed my fingers against your clit right then.”
All this talk of that night has my panties wet. I peel away my sweatshirt and reveal my bare breasts to him. Breasts that he once thought were off limits. They were never off limits. Here or there, I’m sure I’d have offered them to him at one point regardless.
“I would have let you,” I admit with a whisper. “I’d have let you finger me then. In front of everyone. I wanted your touch.” I reach for his hand. “I still want your touch.”
He rises and towers over me. When I get twisted in his grip, I let out a shocked whimper. His hips start moving to an imaginary song. I bite my lip when I feel his erection poking into me. Two hands whisper over my bare flesh, recreating that night. The one at my side tickles but the one dangerously low on my stomach has me seeing stars. I close my eyes and I’m back at that night. His fingers moving under my dress. Slipping into my panties and searching my heat. Thick fingers pushing inside of me. Owning me. I cry out in pleasure. My arousal drips from me like never before. He pushes my panties down my thighs and they fall to my ankles.
“Bend over,” he demands, his voice husky.
I reach for my toes, offering my bare body to him. His jeans and boxers hit the floor before he starts rubbing his hot erection against my slick sex.
“Would you have let me fuck you right there on the pier if I’d asked?” His voice is feral and deep. I wince when his powerful fingers dig into my hips. “Tell me, baby girl.”
I whimper at his sexy voice and words. “Yes. I touched myself that night. I imagined it was you. Sometimes I would pretend to have nightmares so you’d come into my room wearing nothing but boxers. I liked the way our bodies fit together. How you were so strong and virile. I was small and vulnerable. When in my bed, you kissed and held me like a lover would. Possessive and protective. You’d pet my hair as if I were yours and only yours. So many times, I wanted to straddle your thighs once you started snoring and—”
I scream when he slams into me with a harsh buck of his hips. My body trembles as if I might collapse, but his death grip on my hips prevent me from falling. He fucks me hard. So hard our skin makes a loud slapping sound. So hard the dog whimpers. So hard I know I’ll be bruised everywhere.
“Harder,” I beg.
I want him to split me in two and own me from the inside. His hips piston in an erotic way that has me wild with lust. I come with a violent shudder. He pulls out suddenly and I expect cum. Instead, he presses against the tight hole of my ass. Terror climbs up my throat but before it can escape, he runs his fingertips along my spine.
“I want him gone from there,” he growls.
I know exactly what he means. Ezekiel was the last person to touch me there. Suddenly, despite the pain, I want it too.
“Yes,” I choke out. “Gone.”
He pushes in slowly and fire rips through me. I nearly suffocate on a sob I was attempting to stifle. Dad doesn’t ram into me like that rapist. He’s gentle but possessive. I can barely hold myself up and I’m thankful when he sits back down in the chair with me impaled on his cock. The fire inside of me is raging but I trust him. He wraps his muscled forearm around my middle and pulls me flush against him. I tilt my head back to rest on his shoulder.
“Put your feet on my knees,” he orders, his hot breath tickling my neck.
I assume his desired position and am thankful it seems to lessen the burn inside my ass. My sex feels open and exposed. And like a dog sniffing a bone, both of his hands explore me there. He rubs against my clit while he uses three fingers to push into my still dripping sex. The intrusion hurts but when I clench in response, pleasure zings through me. I’m so full of him. Everywhere. He fucks me with his fingers as if it were his powerful dick. I am so lost to all of the sensations that I feel as though I’m stepping outside of my body. His teeth ravage my flesh everywhere he can reach and I’m helpless. He’s devouring me bit by bit and I’m elated.
With a soul-shattering scream, I come. I orgasm everywhere. I don’t understand it. I can’t describe it. I just simply explode. My body seizes in his grip and I black out as I shudder. The burn in my ass intensifies as his cock seems to expand. Then, hot cum is jetting inside of me.
I’m being consumed and swallowed whole.
I come again.
And then I pass out.