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“It’s not…you’re not cheating on her.” Her voice is quiet and like she’s trying to make me feel better for wanting her this way.
“It’s not the point, Stassi. It’s wrong.” I point at her.
“It’s a kiss.” She shrugs as if that one thing wouldn’t shatter the conventional lines of our relationship.
“It’s more than that and you know it,” I tell her. “It’s a slippery slope.”
“Because you want me…just like I want you.” I look over and see the look in her eyes that no longer seems to be fueled by alcohol.She does want this.
“You don’t know what you want, Stassi. You think you want me because I take care of you but…it’s not how it works. You think you can use me to grieve.”
“I think we can help each other grieve.”
“By messing around? No.”
“By…leaning on each other and being what the other person needs.”
“And you need what? An orgasm?” I snap.
“I said a kiss.” She tells me raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were that good of a kisser to give me an orgasm, unless of course, you’re about five steps ahead of me. And you’re thinking about kissing me…elsewhere.” She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms in front of her chest, elevating her tits.
I almost choke at her innuendo.Who is this woman? Sure, she’s fiery and sassy as fuck but I didn’t know she was this sexual creature who is talking about me kissing her pussy.
Fuck, now I’m thinking about kissing her pussy. Sliding my tongue through her perfect folds…tasting her orgasm…
“I’m not having this conversation anymore, Stassia,” I tell her. “Grab your shoes and let’s go.” I glare at her as I turn my back to her.
“Wait you promised!”
“I didn’t promise shit.”
“You promised me a kiss.”
“Well, too bad,” I growl at her as I begin my way up the beach towards the mainland. I don’t hear her behind me and when I turn around, she’s still rooted in the same spot, staring down at her phone.
“Do not text that asshole, Stassi, I mean it!” I call out to her.
Her head snaps up and she stomps towards me until she’s close enough to not have to yell. She presents me her middle finger and tosses me her phone and I almost see red when I see the words on the screen.
Stassi: Where should I meet you?
“You’re being a brat,” I growl at her as we begin our drive back to our house. “I’m not taking you anywhere.”
“Fine, I’ll take the car.”
“The hell you will,” I snap. I grip my hands tightly around the steering wheel as I imagine all the places I can hide my car keys so she’ll never find them.
“Then I’ll have him come get me,” she retorts.
“No.” I know I’m behaving like a jealous caveman. I don’t care. I want her, and I can’t have her. So, by that logic, no one fucking can. Especially not some waiter who probably collects teenage girls here on vacation.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Afraid that doesn’t work anymore, Daddy Dearest,” she sasses.
“If you want a prayer at getting your way, I suggest you stop calling me that.” I speak the words, but my cock wholeheartedly disagrees with the way it’s pulsing in my slacks. I can already feel the precum leaking into my briefs and I shift uncomfortably at the thought that I’m in this confined space with my stepdaughter getting harder by the second.
