by Alexis Angel
Well, fuck-awful, truth be told.
Whereas, seeing him again is … amazing. Maybe a little too amazing.
He pulls back and stares down at me, the towel dangling from his right hand as he smooths his hair back with his hand. “God. Daphne. I just … I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“And I didn’t expect you to smell like you’d taken a gin-and-tonic bath with your clothes on,” I say with a laugh. “What happened?”
“Oh.” He waves the towel around nonchalantly. “Heather. She and I had a difference of opinion on where our relationship was going. Basically, she wanted one, and I didn’t.”
“I can see why that’d be considered a difference of opinion,” I say drily. I look up at him through my eyelashes. Damn, was he always this handsome? I remember thinking he was cute for an older guy when I hit my teenage years, but…well, he was old back then. I mean, who looks at their dad and thinks DILF?
Except…
I guess I should start saying I would, because even smelling like a gin distillery, Dominic is sexy as hell.
And definitely a Dad I’d Like to Fuck.
I mentally scold myself. I cannot, cannot, cannot think like that. He probably still thinks of me as that kid who played with My Little Pony all those years ago. He’s probably going to reach out and pinch my cheek at any moment, or pat me on the head condescendingly.
“We should go sit down and catch up,” he says, gesturing toward the tables. “I want to hear about how life is going for you. What did you end up deciding on for your major in college? And your mom—is she still with her wife?”
“Yeah,” I say, winding toward another open table, since mine had been taken since I started chatting with Dad … Dominic. We settle into a small, two-person table and I take a sip of my cosmo, hoping it will calm my nerves. “She’s really happy with Trish. I know being told your spouse isn’t into your gender is a real hard thing to hear—” God, do I know, “but I always thought that you took that news really well. I’m proud of you for that. I don’t know that I’ve ever told you or not.”
Actually, I know I haven’t. When my parents—okay, stepdad and mom—got a divorce, I’d been heading off to college and uncertain about the world, so hearing that the one part of my life that I thought was stable—my home—was being ripped apart was really hard on me. I spent the first year at college drinking and partying a lot more than was probably advisable.
At least, if you asked my professors, they’d say that. I almost flunked out my first year, after graduating as valedictorian from my high school. I only barely made it into med school. Their divorce so fucked with my head, no lie.
He nods, a grim smile on his face. “Truthfully, it doesn’t hurt that your mom and I’s sex life was never that amazing. I know she probably thought that it was this huge revelation that she was gay, but it wasn’t to the rest of us.”
“Really?” I ask, wide-eyed. Like any kid, I’ve always had the policy of not thinking about my parent’s sex life—eewwwww—but even after my mom’s revelation, it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder how it’d been between the two of them in bed. “I had no clue.”
“Well, it’s not like we would’ve gone around and announced it to the world, or to our daughter,” he says with a wink. “I like my women to be able to drink and loosen up and have a good time, and that isn’t your mother.”
No, no it’s not. Not even a little bit. I take a sip of my cosmo, feeling the pleasant tingling of alcohol running through my veins and look up at him to see a hungry look in his eyes.
Hungry for me.
Oh my God, is my stepdad trying to imply what I think he is?
“So, how is your drink?” he asks with a sexy smile.
He is. Oh God, he is.
36
Dominic
How the fuck did I start talking about Mary and I’s sex life? Daphne is probably grossed out right now. And that joke about liking my women loose and happy, willing to drink alcohol? I really don’t know where that came from.
Maybe it was from having an entire bar hear my ex scream, “I took it up the ass for you!” at me as she’s throwing her drink in my face. That could be it. Maybe I’m a little punch drunk about the whole thing, and I'm in shock and reacting weirdly. Because it is so totally over-the-top inappropriate for me to be checking out Daphne’s legs in her red patent leather heels and her short black skirt and her tits showing above her…
I tear my eyes away and look back up at her face. The only place I should be looking, I remind myself sternly. Daphne looks flustered and I know that she picked up on my little sly innuendo.
Fuck.
Trying to cover it up, I ask quickly, “So what brings you here to the Carlyle?”
She gives me a wry smile and takes another sip of her drink. I can see the liquid on her lips, and I want nothing more than to draw my tongue across her lips, licking up the moisture.
I shift in my seat, my dick hardening as I watch her bite her lip with a frown. I could imagine those lips around my dick as she stared up at me—
“My boyfriend. Well, my ex-boyfriend now. Today’s my birthday—”
“Oh God, I forgot that! I’m so sorry. Happy birthday, sweetie.”
“It’s fine. You don’t need to go buy me a birthday cake or anything,” she says drily. “I got a pony ride for my last birthday so I don’t need one this time.”
I laugh and she grins cheekily at me. “Anyway, I wanted a birthday present—a special one—for my 26th birthday, and Roger said he’d make it happen. And, well, it didn’t. Not exactly how I’d planned, that is.”
She stutters to a stop, and I stare at her questioningly. There’s some major story there, and I’m suddenly burning with curiosity to know what it is. “What, exactly, was the birthday present?” I ask. “I mean, if you want to tell me. Only if you’re comfortable.”
The silence is stretching out and I’m starting to think I need to just say something blatantly obvious to change the subject (“So what do you think about the Mets this year?”) when she finally whispers with a shrug, staring at the table top, “Menage.” My heart stops. My breathing stops. I’m just staring at her in shock.
No
Fucking
Way
You know that saying, “Like mother like daughter”? Well, I’m starting to think that this isn’t at all true with Mary and Daphne. The more I spend time with Daphne the Adult, the more I am starting to realize that she isn’t a damn thing like her momma, Ms. Missionary Style Only And Only With The Lights Off.
And my dick is a lot happier with Daphne the Adult’s way of looking at the world, that’s for damn sure. It’s busy asking me what else I think I could talk Daphne into doing, but I can’t terrify her.
She’s also waiting for me to speak, and I realize with a flash of panic that I’ve stayed quiet for way too long. She probably thinks I’m judging her, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“You and two guys, or you and a girl and a guy?” I ask casually, holding my breath for her answer. Maybe she’s more like her mom than she wants to admit.
“Well, it started out with me and two guys,” she says with a wry chuckle, “but it ended with two guys and no me. I went into the bathroom and when I came out, my boyfriend of five years was getting it up the ass by the guy we’d found on Craigslist. I came down here to get drunk. It seemed like the appropriate response.”
She waves down a waiter to get a refill of her drink and then turns back to me. “Seems like we both struck out tonight.”
“I’d say so. But things were never serious between Heather and me. I told her that from the beginning. She … chose to ignore that warning. But honey, to date a guy for five years … that’s rough.” I reach across the table and pick up her hand in mine, squeezing it consolingly.
Except…
She’s not breathing and I’m not breathing, and we’re just staring at each other. Electric sparks are shooting up my arm from our clasped hands, and straight dow
n to my dick. I can’t be turned on by my stepdaughter, right?
Right?
37
Daphne
Okay.
Okay.
Okay.
I know I’m not supposed to be making googly eyes at my stepdad. I get that. It’s true.
But, would you mind telling my pussy that? ‘Cause oh God, does it want his dick right now. Hard and fast and on this table if at all possible. He’s holding my hand, dragging the thumb across my knuckles as he looks at me and I’m just not even breathing ‘cause
Ho
Ly
Fuck
That’s it. Decision is made. I’m gonna do it. Hell, today is my 26th birthday, right? And doesn’t that mean that I deserve a little fun? I think it does.
“Hey, I need to use the restroom,” I say with a smile, sliding out of my seat, hoping that my panties haven’t started sticking to the back of my skirt from all of the pussy juice flowing out of me right now. Really, this is ridiculous. In a fucking amazing sort of way. I try to hold back my excited-and-totally-nervous laugh as I lie and say, “I’ll be right back.”
I sling my purse over my shoulder, and, holding the new cosmo delivered by the waiter, head out of the bar. Instead of taking a right to the bathroom, though, I hang a left and head up to the front desk of the hotel.
“A king for the night, please,” I say, sliding my credit card out of my wallet.
After the hotel employee has me fill out the paperwork and sign the receipt, I say as casually as I can, “Oh hey, can I have two keycards?”
“Sure,” the probably-still-a-teenager-who-definitely-has-an–overactive-acne-problem girl says with a shrug. “You’ll be in room 315.” She hands me my copy of my receipt and my two room keys.
“Thanks. Oh, and can you send a bellboy up to my room? I have something I need him to do.” Casual. I’m so casual.
I just hope she can’t smell my arousal. I feel like it’s wafting around me, like the perfume of the horny.
“Sure,” she says with another shrug, and picks up the phone to make a call. If she can smell my horny perfume, you sure could fool me. I hurry over to the elevators. I’ve got to beat the bellboy to my room ‘cause I have shit to do before he shows up.
Plus, I need to hurry my ass up, or my daddy is going to get bored and leave. And he can’t get bored; this is about to be a whole lot of fun.
I walk into Room 315, and closing the door behind me, I quickly slide off my thong. Looking around, I spot some hotel stationery on the desk. I grab an envelope and scribble, “Room 315. Come join me for some fun,” on the front, then slide my panties and the keycard inside.
I hear a knock at the door and, quickly licking the envelope closed, I hurry over to the door, opening it to find a bored-looking, slightly-older-than-a-teenager bellman, waiting for me.
“Hey, thanks for coming so quickly,” I say, rummaging through my purse and triumphantly pulling out a twenty. That is grossly overpaying the kid to deliver an envelope, but hell, it’s totally worth it. “I need you to deliver this to a man about 6’2", dark brown hair with silver at the temples, in the Bemelmans Bar immediately. He’s sitting by himself at the table. His name is Dominic Masters.” I shove the envelope and the twenty into his hand. “Really important,” I say, warning him. The last thing I want is for him to wander off and get sidetracked by something or someone else.
I need to get fucked, dammit. I’m not about to allow someone to fuck that up for me … again.
“Oh sure,” he says excitedly, at the sight of the $20 bill. “Right away.”
He hurries away down the hallway and I close the door behind him, leaning up against the closed door with a sigh.
Now, all I can do is wait, and hope that I’m not completely deluding myself about what I saw in my stepdaddy’s eyes.
Because that would be so damn embarrassing if I am.
Oh my god, what if I am?
I start to panic. I grab my cosmo from the dresser top and throw it back, chugging it like a freshman with a beer bong. Once I swallow it all, I sink backwards, down onto the bed.
He war so totally flirting with me. I know he was. There’s no way that he wasn’t.
I close my eyes and breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose. Or, dammit, is it supposed to be in through my nose and out through my mouth? Now I can’t remember.
The alcohol doesn’t seem to be giving me any extra courage, but it sure as fuck is messing with my brain. Ugh.
I kick off my shoes and start to unbutton my shirt to strip, but then realize, what if he came up here after receiving my present just to tell me no? It’d be even more embarrassing if I answered the door naked, only to be patted on the head and told to go run along.
It’s my birthday. Surely, I can’t have two fuck-awful things happen to me in the same day, right? Isn’t there some sort of universe limit on this?
I go into the bathroom and critically eye my outfit, finally deciding on having an extra button undone. It does a nice job of showing off my cleavage, while also not being “OH MY GOD, I’M HERE TO FUCK YOU!” outrageous.
“Daphne,” I tell my reflection, “if he decides not to fuck you, at least you know you probably won’t run into him again. It’s not like he comes to the family reunions or something. And New York City is a very big city.”
Okay, now I just sound like a drunk version of a tourist guide.
Knock knock
I freeze. Is that the doorman, back to tell me that my stepfather told me to fuck off? Or is that my stepfather, just trying to be polite before he opens the door?
I swear to god, I cannot breathe.
38
Dominic
Okay, I know women like to take a while in the bathroom, but this is getting ridiculous. I feel a tap on my shoulder as I wait, increasingly less patiently, for my stepdaughter to reappear. “Sir?”
I turn, seeing a young kid in a too-big bellman’s suit, holding out an envelope for me. “You’re Dominic Masters, right?” he asks.
“Yes…” I say distractedly, scanning the front of the envelope. Room 315. Come join me for some fun.
The envelope is suspiciously lumpy. As I run my thumb along underneath the seal to break it open, I look up to ask the bellman what the woman looked like who handed me the envelope – what if this is Heather? – but he’d disappeared.
I open it up to find a pair of red and black lace panties…no, a thong. A damp thong.
And a keycard for the Carlyle Hotel. I’m assuming it’ll work on the door of room 315.
I stare down at the items in my hands, not sure of what to do. If this is Heather, she’ll take me showing up at her door as an invitation to restart our relationship.
But if it’s Daphne…
I try to casually raise the envelope to my nose to smell it, and it smells like sweet arousal. Sweet delicious pussy juices.
This can’t be Heather. It just can’t be.
I pull the keycard out and shove it into my back pocket, and then shrug and stuff the envelope in there too. I can feel my dick harden even as I move through the bar. Oh God, please let this be Daphne. If I show up with a hard-on and it’s Heather opening the door, I’m going to have one unhappy dick.
I impatiently ride the elevator up to the third floor and then hurry down the hallway. Three doors, and then…
315.
I pull out the keycard and go to swipe it, but then realize that I should knock first. Let her know I’m here. Then open the door. I don’t want to surprise her. I want to fuck her. Two totally different things.
I knock, surprised that my hand is shaking slightly from need and desire thrumming through my veins, and then slide the card through the door card reader.
Here goes nothing.
I’m pushing down on the door handle just as it opens underneath my hand.
“Oh!” Daphne says, looking slightly surprised. A button is undone on her blouse, giving me an eyeful of her cleavage, and just seeing that, my di
ck is straining against my trousers.
“Oh,” I say in response, a smile growing on my face. It's Daphne and she wants me as much as I want her, and oh, my dick is going to be happy tonight.
I brush past her, into the room, and then close it behind me. “You seem like you’re surprised to see me,” I say, backing her up against the door and leaning over her, my arm resting on the door over her right shoulder. “Didn’t you mean to send the envelope to me?”
She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me through her eyelashes. “Yes, I did. I thought…”
Her voice dies away as I run a hand over her cheek, down her neck, and to her tit, to cup it in my hand.
“You thought?” I repeat, bending down and running my teeth and lips across her collarbone.
“I thought maybe…you were…the door man…” she got out between breathless sighs. “I thought he…was coming…back…to tell me…he couldn’t…”
“Couldn’t find me?” I finally finish for her, since she doesn’t seem to be able to speak properly. That may or may not have something to do with the fact that I’m suckling on her tit, through the fabric of her shirt and bra, but it doesn’t matter because I know she can feel the warmth and wetness of my mouth on her.
“Yeah. That.”
39
Daphne
I can’t believe my stepfather—well, ex-stepfather, has his mouth on my tit. Through my open shirt I can feel his warm breath, wetting my skin and making bumps raise up over my skin and making me shiver. I can’t form any words, even if I wanted to. I’m still kind of in shock, but yeah, I really want this. Like, want this so damn bad that the part of my brain that would be telling me things like ‘don’t fuck your stepfather’ or ‘you’re drunk and upset, don’t do this’ is completely shut off. I don’t have any of those second-guessing thoughts. I lick my lips. My mouth runs dry and my throat aches. The masculine scent of him in the air drives me wild. I want him closer. I feel like an animal right now—even if he were inside of me right now, it wouldn’t be close enough. I need to feel all of him on me.
