The words lash me and I can’t help shivering. I lick my lips again. “If you want to find out, I won’t stop you.”
“Dirty girl.” He snaps the garter, the sting making me jump. “You came here for revenge.”
There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“I’d have to be a selfish asshole to take advantage of you when you’re like this.” But he’s looking at me in the way I’ve always fantasized about, like he has a thousand things he wants to do to my body and hasn’t decided where he wants to start.
“It’s what we both want, isn’t it?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, I press. “Why not do it?”
He moves his hand to my hip and grips the fabric of my dress, pulling it tight against my body. “I could think of a few reasons. You were going to marry my son.”
I can’t quite catch my breath. “I’m not going to now.”
“You’re young enough to be my daughter.”
I watch the dress inch up my legs with every pull of his hand, baring more and more of me. The sight makes me giddy. It’s the only excuse for what slips out in response. “Should I call you Daddy, then?”
He goes still. Just like that, he releases my dress and the fabric falls back to cover most of my thighs. Disappointment sours my stomach, but he’s not moving back. He skates his hand up my side barely brushing the curve of my breast before he grips my chin just tightly enough to hurt. “Is that what you want, Lily?” He presses two fingers to my bottom lip and I open for him. “You want to call me Daddy while I do filthy things to you that you’ve only fantasized about.” He slips his fingers into my mouth, in and out, in and out, miming fucking. I watch him with wide eyes, but I don’t get a chance to decide if I like it or not before he clamps his remaining fingers tightly around my chin, his fingers almost deep enough to gag me.
Shane leans down and holds my gaze as his fingers stroke my tongue. “You want to call me Daddy while I slip my hand up your skirt and find out what you have waiting for me? While I bend you over this counter and eat your cunt until you come?” It’s almost too much, I can’t quite catch my breath, I really am going to gag, but he gives me no relief. “You want to ride Daddy’s cock?”
Chapter 2
I make a panicked sound and he releases me, sliding his fingers from my mouth. It feels dirty and wrong and I’m shaking with need. “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, that’s what I want.”
He searches my face. Maybe he thought he’d scare me off with all that, but instead I’m even more turned on. My hands drop to the hem of my dress. “Would you like to see?”
He looks around as if realizing where we are for the first time. “Not here.” The kitchen faces the front of the house, and with the lights on, it’s only the maple trees in the front yard that keep the neighbors from seeing us.
I hop off the counter and stagger after him on knees that feel like Jell-O. Oh my god, is this really happening? Did I really challenge him like that and now he’s called my bluff? Daddy kink is not on my list of things I wanted from Shane, but I can’t deny that every filthy sentence he spills makes the heat in my blood pulse hotter.
I want to be bad, to be dirty. I want to forget every bit of the last few days. I know the forgetting won’t last forever, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.
I expect Shane to take me upstairs, but he stalks to the living room with its big sectional couch and square ottoman. When it’s pushed together, it basically creates a massive bed, and I’ve always wanted to fuck on it, but Max was never interested in anything resembling public sex. I watch Shane push the ottoman tight against the couch, my heart beating too hard.
He considers me for a moment and then drops onto the couch and situates himself against the back of it with his big legs stretched out. Like this, there’s no missing the way his cock presses against the front of his pants. He crooks his fingers at me. “Take off your shoes.”
After a short silent debate, I stand on the ottoman and walk to him. But when I move to straddle him, he shakes his head. “No. Turn around. Lie down.” When I don’t immediately obey, he moves me how he wants me. Urging me onto my stomach facing the television, my shins and feet bent up against the back of the couch. It feels strange and awkward and it’s made worse by the fact we aren’t touching.