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But this, being pinned to the floor by my dad while I jerk his cock, is one of the best moments of my life. My heart is full to bursting with pride and satisfaction that I’m the one giving him the simple pleasures Mom refused to.
He doesn’t need her now, not when he has me.
The only thing I can think of to make this experience even better is to give him more…more of me. All of me.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I beg as I turn my head to the side in search of his lips so I can kiss him for real. That one little taste of his lower lip earlier isn’t enough. I want to know what it feels like to fully press my lips against his, to feel his tongue dancing with my own. I want to know what it feels like to swallow his moans just as he cums thanks to me.
He grinds to a halt and whips his head back to stare at me with horror. “Tina. My god, no. I can’t do that.”
Chapter 3
Tina
I want to cry and kick myself when he rears back to sit on his haunches, and now he’s too far for me to keep my grip on him. Why did I have to go and fuck up the best sexual experience of my life by opening my big, fat mouth? Why couldn’t I just be happy with what we were already doing?
I sit up and grab at his jeans when he stands, trying to pull them back down as he jerks the waistband up and buttons the top. “Please, Daddy. I know you and Mom haven’t been together in a long time. Let me do this for you.”
“Fuck! This can’t be happening. You can’t say shit like that to me! Begging your Daddy to fuck you. Oh god, I’m going straight to hell,” he mutters as he starts ripping at his hair again.
I jump up from the floor and yank his hands away. I can’t stand him thinking such ugly thoughts about himself. “If you’re going to hell, then so am I,” I cry. “I’m the one who started it.”
“No, no. I did this. You’re innocent. You just wanted to make your dad happy, but I’m the one going to hell for letting things go as far as they did.” He retreats, walking backward toward the open bedroom door as he tucks his shirt back in his jeans and struggles with buckling his belt. “I’ll leave, and we’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll go back to being a regular dad and daughter, and we never have to think about this ever again.”
I can’t let him leave. Can’t let him walk out that door and go back to who we were an hour ago. I didn’t like who we were an hour ago. Him—overworked and unhappy and ignoring me all the time. Me—a selfish, spoiled brat who didn’t care about anything except me, me, me. I don’t want to go back to being those people ever again.
“There’s nothing innocent about what I want to do with you, Daddy.” I cross my arms in front of me and pull my tank top off in one smooth move, leaving me in just my shorts and hot pink, slightly padded bra—not that I need the padding.
“Stop!” he shouts when I reach behind my back and unhook my bra. He groans and cups his jeans over his bulge when I let the thin straps fall from my shoulders and drop my bra on the floor.
My breasts are slightly bigger than Mom’s ample chest, and I know my exes loved playing with them. I hope Dad will too. I cup my breasts and do a little shimmy, which makes him groan again as he squeezes his bulge.
When I take a step forward, he takes a step back. Forward and back, and forward again until I have him backed against the door frame. He wets his lips when I drag his hands up and make him cup my breasts. I slide my hand between us and over his bulge, giving it a little squeeze every time I force him to squeeze my breast. When he lightly pinches one of my nipples, I close my eyes and moan, “Oh god, that feels so good, Daddy. I want you. I—”
“No! This has to stop. I am your father, goddamnit!” he shouts and shoves me away.
I don’t think he meant to push me as forcefully as he did, but he’s so much stronger than I am, and I lose my footing, tripping over one of the many leftover piles of Mom’s things on the floor. I can’t right myself this time, and I hit the center of my back on the corner of their bed on my way down. I scream and turn over onto my stomach as an ugly sob works its way out of my chest.
I fucked up. I keep fucking up, and I’ve never felt more unwanted and unloved than I do right now, and all of it is my fault.
But then he’s there, scooping me up in his powerful arms before gently laying me on his bed after shoving aside the toiletries that didn’t make it into Mom’s suitcases.
“I’m so goddamn sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to push you, I swear. You’ll never know how fucking sorry I am.” His voice is that of a broken, desperate, scared man, and I know he’s sincere about not meaning to hurt me…not that it will take the sting out of my back. “Show me where it hurts, sweetheart.”
I can’t look him in the eye as I roll over onto my stomach away from him and bury my face in Mom’s pillow as I continue to sob. I know it’s hers by the smell of the dry shampoo she uses, and I throw the pillow off the bed.
It’s not like she’ll need it anymore.
I twist an arm behind my back and point to where it hurts the most as my tears soak the comforter.
I shiver when I feel the featherlight touch of his lips and scrape of his beard on my back where I’ll soon be sporting a massive, ugly bruise. There’s a sizable dip from his weight as he climbs onto the bed, and I can feel him hovering over me.
“I’m”—kiss—“so”—kiss—“sorry”—kiss—“sweetheart.”
My tears dry up one by one as he continues to kiss my back, first in a small circle around the injury, then side to side, then lower…lower…lower…until he kisses the sliver of skin just above the waistband of my shorts. My skin prickles with goosebumps when he doesn’t move for several torturously long minutes, his breath fanning against my lower back.
I don’t know what to do. So far, every time I’ve opened my mouth, asked for more, or moaned, it has led to disaster. I’m scared that if I open my mouth now, I will ruin everything once again. So I clamp my lips shut and wait to see what he’s going to do next.
My belly flutters when he asks me in a low, husky whisper, “Does it hurt anywhere else?”
