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“Because this isn’t just about what feels right in the moment,” he said. “Do you want your first time to be something you can’t ever talk about? Because that’s how it would be. You couldn’t tell anyone. Not your mother, not your friends.”
“I would never tell Mom about this.” I lapped another salty droplet off my thumb. Now that I’d had a taste, I would never be satisfied until I gorged myself on him. “I’ll just tell my friends I hooked up with some guy I met at college.”
“Maybe that’s what you should do.” He pursed his lips, like the words tasted sour. “You deserve to meet a nice, normal guy. Someone you can kiss and hold hands with in public.”
I twined my fingers with his.
“Who says we can’t hold hands?”
“Paige, I mean it?—”
“Normal’s overrated.” I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his fingertips one by one. He watched my mouth, riveted, as I nibbled the pads of his fingers and then sucked his thumb.
He inhaled sharply. “Fuck.”
I rolled my tongue along the underside and tightened my cheeks, thinking of his cock. Big and pink and solid. All this wavering on his part was useless. There was no coming back from what we’d done.
He slid his finger out of my mouth, dragging his knuckle past my teeth. I angled my face and waited for him to kiss me. He gripped my thighs, smearing saliva onto my skin.
“This is what you want,” he said, and though it wasn’t a question, I could see the battle being fought behind his eyes.
Reaching between my thighs, I dipped a finger inside myself, then brushed a layer of wetness over my lips like gloss.
He reared forward and caught my lip between his teeth, then kissed me greedily. With one swift movement, he laid me down on the couch and then kissed and licked a meandering trail from my mouth to my stomach. He gripped the backs of my knees and spread my legs, just like he’d done in the studio.
I trembled as his hot breath washed over my most tender places.
“It took every ounce of strength I had not to taste your pussy this afternoon,” he said. “You were practically dripping, and you smelled so fucking good.”
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. Had my desire to be touched by my own father really been that obvious?
I gasped as he licked me all the way from my back entrance up to my clit. His lips curved into a satisfied smirk.
“I knew my little girl would be delicious.”
Chapter Eleven
The next few weeks unfolded like a string of cutout paper hearts.
My first day of college was less than a month away. There were books to buy, and dorm supplies to shop for. I had stopped returning my mother’s texts and calls. All of that was barely a niggle at the back of my mind.
Nothing existed outside of my father and I and our secret.
We grew drunk on each other, and like all intoxicants, our desire made us reckless. Kisses stolen in empty galleries. A flash of skin or tongue. In the backs of cabs coming home from parties, with my father’s hand down the front of my dress and his fingers inside me. We even held hands on the subway.
But the bulk of our time was spent in bed, always naked, always ravenous.
“Fuck, I love watching you grind on my cock,” he said, his fingers digging furrows into the flesh of my hips. “You’re gonna make me come.”
“No, don’t,” I said. “I want to suck you off so I can taste both of us in my mouth at the same time.”
Hands braced against my father’s chest, I glided my pussy along his erection, sliding easily. I was so fucking wet—always so fucking wet when he was around. There was no helping it.
“Sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth, “you can’t tell me not to come and then say stuff like that.”
I laughed and then yelped as he reached around to slap my ass.
“Sorry, Daddy.”
