“Dominick!” I immediately drop my backpack and fling my arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much.” I kiss him and he pulls me up and into his body, kissing me back just as ferociously.
“Don’t forget to breathe, you two,” Dad says, walking over to the both of us.
Dad turns me to him and kisses me on the lips as well. Dominick’s lips were warm and tasted like chocolate. Which makes me smile because I know it’s one of his tricks when he’s tired at work—he sneaks little dark chocolates to help himself stay awake.
Dad’s lips are cool and minty. He’s probably just drank some of the bracingly cold filtered water from the fridge. And brushed his teeth.
As soon as Dad pulls back, my eyes shoot over to Dominick. Will he be mad that Dad kissed me?
No, he’s still just smiling at me like he’s never been happier to see anyone in his life. Relief sweeps over me.
I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss Dom again.
Mmm. Chocolate. His tongue tangles with mine, and then there’s a warm body at my back and hands cupping my ass.
Dad squeezes and kneads my backside through my jeans, then grinds himself into me, pressing me into Dominick.
“Sweet, sweet girl,” Dad whispers. “Look at you so hot for your big brother.” His breath is warm on the back of my neck since my hair is up in a ponytail.
“But you can’t be late to school,” he continues and pulls away, but not without a solid wallop to my backside.
I yelp but then giggle.
Dominick withdraws from my mouth, though not without holding me for another long second before releasing me.
“You need a ride to school?” he asks, searching my eyes.
I smile at his sweetness. He’s just come off a God-knows-how-long shift and he’s offering to drive me to school?
“I’m fine. Get some sleep.”
“I’ll take her,” Dad says. “She’s on my way.”
“I can just take the bus like I usually do,” I start to protest, but both men are already shaking their head.
“It looks like rain,” Dominick says, then he looks over to Dad. “You got her?”
Dad rubs my shoulder and drops another kiss there. “Always.”
A look I can decipher passes between the two men, then Dad picks up my backpack from the ground. “Let’s get going, sweet girl. Don’t want to be late.”
I reach out and squeeze Dom’s hand, then I’m out the door with Dad.
Dominick was right, it does start to rain on the way to my school and I’m glad not to be out in it. It only takes about twenty minutes to get there and for a while Dad and I just listen to NPR morning news.
When we’re about five minutes away, Dad turns off the radio. I look over at him in surprise.
He watches the road, the windshield wipers flipping furiously to clear the rain from the window.
“I’m really looking forward to the Father-Daughter Dance on Thursday.”
“Me too.” I smile over at him and his eyes flick off the road for a second toward me.
“Do you have a dress ready?”
I nod, then realize his eyes are back on the road. “Yep. Grandpa gave me a wardrobe allowance just for this sort of thing. I got a really nice one this weekend.”
“What color is it?” Dad’s question comes out sharp and for some reason, I feel like this is some sort of test.
“Mauve,” I say, not knowing what the right answer is. I clarify more, “Sort of a soft pink.”
Dad relaxes and smiles. “Good.” He takes another quick glance at me. “Just needed to know what color corsage I should get.”
“Oh,” I respond, still a little confused.
Then he reaches a hand out and puts it on my knee. “I’m so proud of you that you know how to dress like a young lady. Not be like so many other girls your age and dress like a slut.”
He pulls to the side of the road in front of my English building and leans over. “Except when you’re being Daddy’s little slut, of course.” He nips my earlobe with his teeth and I can’t help the intake of breath his words evoke.
I blink when he pulls back.
He makes everything sound so dirty.
But I’m squirming in my jeans at the same time.
Dad’s certainly a lot more crass than Dominick. But I think that’s just his way. He likes to get this response out of me.
The fact that I currently have the third size up anal plug in my backside right now isn’t helping matters. The truth is, both of them are dirty as hell, and they’re both drawing me into their games in their own way.
Dad’s hand on my knee moves so that he’s rubbing up and down my thigh, creeping further and further inward. “Have a wonderful day, sweet girl,” he says in a low voice, those green eyes of his burning with intensity. Like he’s daring me to stay in the car with him.