“Your old dad wouldn’t steer you wrong,” he says, hopping down out of the truck. “Your mom would want you to do this. You know that.”
A hard knot coils under my ribs as frustration and anger tightens my chest. He uses my mother like exhausted parents use Santa… a tool to manipulate my behavior.
If I didn’t need the money so badly, I’d leave right this second, and I’d never look back. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I walk down the dimly lit path through the pines toward the cabin.
The worst part is I don’t really know what my mother would’ve wanted from me. Isn’t that awful? I should remember more of her, but I don’t. I’ve forgotten the sound of her voice, the way her cookies tasted, what dreams she had for me.
I fumble for the keys in my purse before finally sliding one into the lock and stepping inside the cabin where I’ve tried my best to create a peaceful environment. It’s small and humble, but it’s four sturdy walls that I’ve made my own with a modern farmhouse sort of vibe. It’s cozy and neutral with a lot of exposed wood.
I kick off my shoes by the door, hang my purse on the hook, and step into the kitchen, stomach growling. Reed and I had planned to eat a pizza, but we never quite got to it. Instead, I let him eat me.
God, I let Reed eat me.
Oh my God… Reed.
Reed’s big hands were all over me.
The whole thing seems like a fever dream at this point. Maybe it was. Maybe I passed out from lack of nutrition and imagined the whole thing.
I need some food,real food,but all I want is sugar. Sugar and carbs. Something to take my mind off the train wreck of a life I’m creating and maybe relax me for a few minutes.
Thankfully, I have everything I need for cupcakes. So, cupcakes for dinner it is.
I flick on the light to the kitchen before grabbing two eggs from the fridge and the jarred mix I made up a few weeks ago. I like to make the mixes up when I have free time so I can toss in the dry ingredients on busy nights when I’m craving cake or need some stress relief.
I’m not sure what it is about baking, but it’s always relaxed me. Maybe it’s that it gives me the opportunity to focus on something other than my thoughts, or maybe it’s that I love working with my hands. I’m not sure, but it was the first thing I did the night my mom died. I came from the hospital and made four dozen chocolate cupcakes with chocolate cream cheese frosting. I’d love to say I gave them away, but over the course of the week, I ate nearly all of them.
So maybe I like baking because I love cupcakes. That, and I love when people ask me to make them things. Mrs. Robinson is always asking for a batch of my chocolate chip cookies.
Baking something for the special people in my life makes me feel connected to them. Reed is always asking me for banana muffins. He loves that I put chocolate chips and walnuts in the batter. It makes me so happy when he asks for them.
Ugh. What the fuck is going on with my life?
I pour the jarred mix into a mixing bowl and scrub my hand down over my face. As good as tonight felt with him, Ihave to forget it ever happened. I depend on Reed for everything. Every emotion and every action. Every decision I make, I run through him. If we have a falling out I’d be completely lost.
Reed’s my compass. The one and only person in the whole world I trust.
What wasIthinking?
I was already crushing on him inappropriately, and now how will I ever forget that he had his tongue between my legs? That he growled and groaned in my ear like a hungry man? How will I ever forget that I was minutes away from sitting on his cock? From giving him my virginity?
How could I ever forget the way it feels to call him Daddy?
My clit throbs and my panties soak at the thought of his big, rough hands all over me. His deep voice in my ear, his confident tone making demands.
Ugh… stop!
I need to stop… but I can’t.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get those images out of my head. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from looking at him like he was my daddy, even for a night. It felt too natural, too right, like everything in life was leading up to that spot. Like I belonged in his arms, like he was meant to touch me, meant to be my daddy.
How can we go back to normal after that? How do I go back to screwing around with him, knowing he also has a thing for me? That hewantsto touch me. That we’re both suppressing desires we should’ve never had to begin with?
My body aches and my heart swells with a pain I haven’t felt before. It’s deep and yearning, as though my actual bones are drawn toward his, like my body knows something my brain hasn’t caught up to yet.
God, I need to stop this.
Please, Lord, I need to stop this.
