by Selena Kitt
Will raised his eyebrows, but smiled and nodded. “Sure.”
Libby made the introductions and while her mother smiled and offered Will a seat, her father stood, towering over Will as he shook his hand.
Instead of sitting, too, Libby slipped behind her father’s chair as he sat, putting her arms around his neck. “Come dance with us, Daddy.”
“Only if your mother joins us.” Ed glanced over at Kim. “Don’t want to leave her here all by herself.”
Libby gulped the rest of her father’s diet Coke. Kim took her estranged husband’s hand as they stood. The music was even louder on the dance floor and the bodies were warm and moist around them, a surfing swell of flesh that rocked and swayed together.
Bumping her hip against his, Libby teased her father as she watched her parents put their arms around each other for a dance as the music slowed. Libby and Will melted into each other but she found she couldn’t concentrate on anything, because her mother’s head was resting against her father’s shoulder, and Libby saw the tender look in his eyes as he stroked her hair.
They danced together all night long. Once her mother was out there, she didn’t seem to want to get off the floor, except to go back to the table for a drink. When the last slow dance had ended, Libby said goodbye to Will, who asked for her number, and then she went to find her parents.
Kim was leaning against Ed as they left, the night air cool against their damp skin as they walked home. Libby watched as her mother put her arm around his waist.
Her father helped her mother to the bedroom when they got into the door. Libby slipped out of her shoes, her feet sore, and took off her dress, spreading it out on the chair and looking at it. She was standing there in her black bra and panties when her father came back into the living room—she heard him gasp.
“Is she ok?” Libby asked.
He was still wearing a suit and he looked so strange to her, not like her father at all. His eyes weren’t his either, raking over her, looking at her in the way the men in the club had looked at her. She knew what that look meant and it made her feel tingly and warm all over.
“She had a little too much to drink,” he father said, sitting on the couch, still staring at her. He patted the sofa and she moved to curl up beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders. “But she’ll sleep it off.”
“You still love her,” she whispered, snuggling up and putting her head under his chin.
He sighed. “I do.”
“She’s leaving tomorrow,” she reminded him, sliding her hand idly over his chest. She wasn’t used to so much fabric between them. “She leaves, Daddy. That’s what she does.”
“I know,” he replied with another sigh. “You coming to bed?”
She slid away from him. “No. I’ll sleep out here tonight. Until she’s gone.”
“Don’t let her do this, baby.” Ed frowned, sliding his hand over her shoulder, brushing her hair out of her face.
“She changes everything,” Libby murmured, feeling her mother’s judgment and the self-consciousness she brought along covering her like a blanket and she closed her eyes against it. “That’s what she does.”
Her father quoted softly, “‘Then the eyes of both were opened and they realized that they were naked.’”
“‘So they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves,’” she returned his quote with one of her own, pulling a blanket up past her waist, nudging him with her bare foot. “Go to bed, Daddy.”
—
She didn’t know what time it was when she woke up in a strange place, the dog snoring against her feet. Her dream was still bleeding in around the edges, and she couldn’t remember anything except the feeling she had lost something. She found herself left with that aching tickle between her legs that made her roll around on the sofa, tugging the blanket between her legs.
She ached all over and longed for warmth. The dog raised his head as Libby stood, the blanket trailing behind her as she made her way down the hall toward Daddy’s room. Her old bedroom door was open, she noticed—so was the bathroom, and the door to her father’s room at the end of the hall.
That’s when she heard her mother’s voice. “Yes! Oh, Ed, don’t stop!”
Libby froze, pulling the blanket tighter around her. Now she heard the sound of bedsprings squeaking, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall.
She heard her father groan and call out her mother’s name. A slow heat filled Libby’s chest and belly as she listened to them.
“Harder, baby,” her mother moaned. “Yeah, oh, that’s it!”
Libby found herself creeping toward the sound of them rocking and moaning in the dimness. She could see past the door frame now, her father poised above her mother, the covers over the lower half of their bodies in the early morning light. The clock on the nightstand read 5:18.
“Oh God!” her mother cried, her hands moving over his broad, strong back. “Oh baby, fuck me harder! Yes, yes!”
The heat spread through Libby’s belly, lower into her groin, her eyes wide and mouth agape as she watched her parents having sex. Her father grunted and moaned, and she saw them kiss, their mouths hungry and eager for each other.
“Ohhhh Kim,” he moaned, his movements growing faster, harder. Libby bit her lip, a deep ache between her legs. “I can’t hold back...”
“Yes,” her mother purred. “I’m so close.”
It was over like that, a fast, furious pumping, the soft moans and cries of her mother, the growl and thrust of her father as they came together in a moment of bliss that left Libby paralyzed and breathless as she watched them from the doorway.
“Oh hell,” she heard her father say as he rolled to one side. The light coming in from the window was a little brighter now and Libby could see them sprawled side by side. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know,” her mother gasped, putting an arm over her eyes. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” Ed apologized, turning up on his elbow.
“No you’re not.” Libby said the words, startling them all.
“Libby!” her father called after her, pounding on the bathroom door that she locked behind her.
She didn’t answer him. She just slid down the wall, put her fist against her mouth, and sobbed.
—
“Libby?”
She knew it was her mother, coming to say goodbye. What a novel idea.
Libby had stayed inside on the couch all day, curled up in front of the TV, naked under a blanket. Her father had tried several times to talk to her, but she’d turned away from his words. They left in the morning to go to the lawyer, and Libby had slept a good deal of the afternoon away, listening to the faint sounds of them talking in the kitchen.
With a sigh, Libby lifted her head off the couch cushion, not at all prepared for the sight of her mother standing in the doorway with the big, blue suitcase. Her stomach clenched, and she turned back towards the TV, pretending to be interested in a re-run of Friends.
She felt the sofa shift as her mother sat. There was water running in the kitchen and she knew her father was cleaning up the dinner dishes. Her stomach growled in protest. She hadn’t eaten anything all day.
“Libby, remember when I said I’d give it a chance?”
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the words.
“And you said you’d give me one, right?” Her mother’s hand on her hip, rubbing. “Can we try again? Maybe you can come visit me in Arizona.”
The other side of the world, Libby thought. Might as well be a different planet.
“You better go,” Libby mumbled, pushing her mother’s hand off her hip.
“I love you, Libby.” Her mother stood with a sigh, reaching down to finger a long strand of her hair.
Looking up at her for a moment, she almost believed, but then she saw the blue suitcase waiting by the door. The water had stopped in the kitchen and she sensed her father’s presence behind them, watching.
“Go.�
� Libby waved her away, her eyes back on the TV. “Leave us alone. It’s what you wanted. It’s what you’re good at.”
“Libby—” Her father’s voice, pleading with her.
Libby pulled the blanket around her, standing. “Don’t you talk to me. Not after last night.”
She went to her own room, burying her face in the pillow. It smelled like her mother’s hair and she sobbed into it, hearing the sound of the door, her father’s goodbye. She couldn’t help peeking out the window, but all she saw was a glimpse of the blue suitcase as the driver put it into the trunk. Inside the cab, her mother was in shadow, and then she was gone.
—
She woke up screaming and he came and carried her to his bed, stroking and petting her all the way. The dream wasn’t clear, fading and fuzzy around the edges, but the pain cut through like knives with every breath she managed to draw against his chest.
“She left, Daddy, she left.” Libby sobbed.
“I know, baby.” She thought she felt his tears, too, as he rocked her.
He kissed her hair, her cheek, and Libby felt that heat spreading in her belly as she turned her head toward him in the dimness and his lips found hers. He was kissing her like he had kissed her mother and her hand tugged at the hair at the back of his neck.
“Libby!” he exclaimed, pushing her to arms length.
They both rode the shockwave of it, gasping in the darkness.
“Daddy?” She moved closer, past the stiffness of his arms, softening him as she pressed her silky, supple flesh against his lean length.
He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, honey. I can’t stop thinking about you, how you looked so much...like her...in that dress...”
“She’s gone,” Libby whispered. “I’m here, Daddy. I’m here.”
“Oh Libby,” he groaned and leaned in to kiss her again, a full, open-mouthed kiss, a hungry, eager, greedy kiss, drawing her in deeply. “Watching you dancing, seeing you in that bra and those black panties...”
His words thrilled her and Libby gasped when she felt his thigh slip between hers, fitting his body against her. She felt his erection against her hip, and knew just what it was and what it meant.
She moaned when his fingers moved over her breast as he kissed her again, pulling and tugging at her nipple as his tongue twined with hers.
“I was imagining you,” her father whispered into her ear as he rolled onto her, spreading her thighs with his. “I was fucking your mother, and I was imagining how you would feel under me...wrapped around me...I wanted to make you come for me, Libby.”
“Oh Daddy,” she cried when his mouth found her breasts, sucking and licking like a man sent to devour her flesh.
“I heard you,” he murmured, flicking her nipple with his tongue, teasing it. “I heard you touching yourself that night. I felt your whole body trembling with it...”
Libby groaned, her face flushing in the darkness. “I... couldn’t help it...”
“I know,” he whispered, slipping a hand down between her legs, seeking her heat. “It’s ok. Don’t be ashamed, baby. I don’t ever want you to be ashamed.”
“No,” she whispered back, her hands in his hair as he parted her lips with his fingers. “You taught me that. The world out there doesn’t understand it. She didn’t understand it...but I do, Daddy. I do.”
She saw his eyes gleaming in the darkness, the light from a full moon casting them in a silver haze together. He was looking at her in the way that he had the other night, his fingers probing gently between her legs, his lustful eyes sweeping over her body in the dimness.
“Beautiful girl,” he murmured, moving his hips with hers. “You’re the only one I could ever hope would understand.”
“Am I?” Libby whispered, moaning when he leaned in and kissed her.
“Yes,” her father whispered against her neck, kissing over her freckled shoulders, over the gentle swell of her breast, sucking a nipple again into his mouth.
“Oh, Daddy,” she cried as he suckled and nipped at her flesh and she felt the rigid length of him rubbing against her thigh.
“Fearless, beautiful, shameless,” he whispered, kissing down her belly, dipping his tongue into her navel. He spread her slender thighs with his big palms, breathing her in and then sinking into heaven, his tongue exploring her soft, pink folds.
“Oh!” Libby moaned when his mouth settled at the top of her swollen cleft, his tongue making slow, lazy spirals against her flesh. “Yes...yes!”
He moaned against her softness, his face buried between her thighs, his tongue working there like a man possessed. She heard him swallowing her, his hands opening her legs wider, pressing them back, leaving her completely exposed. His mouth sent the most divine sensations through her, making her wiggle and moan and reach for him like she wanted something.
“Oh please,” she begged, her hands roaming over her own body, her palms brushing against her nipples, sending sweetness down between her legs. She wanted more, her flesh on fire, his tongue the most exquisite torture she’d ever known.
“Daddy,” she cried, using her fingers to spread herself more open for his mouth. “Oh yes!”
His fingers, probing between her legs, slid into the slickness between her thighs, stroking there, easing in a little at a time. Just one finger slipping through her flesh as he licked her, moving in and out.
“Oh God,” she moaned, feeling completely undone in that moment, rocking on a cloud of her own pleasure, her hands grasping for something to hold onto and finding his hair. “Oh Daddy, yes, I’m... I’m ...”
And then she was spinning and dizzy with it, gasping and shuddering against him as the most delicious, rhythmic pulse beat against his groaning and growling mouth between her legs.
“Libby,” he murmured, kissing his way up her quivering belly, his mouth wet with her as he found hers and she tasted herself for the first time. “Oh, God, baby you are so beautiful.”
She felt the heat of him, a steel rod pulsing against the wet cleft between her thighs as he kissed her, his tongue twined with hers, sucking at her, biting at her lips.
“Then the eyes of both were opened and they realized that they were naked,” Libby whispered, his thumbs moving over the pink swell of her nipples, making her gasp and squirm against him.
“I don’t want you to hide.” He rocked his hips and she felt how stiff he was between them. “Sex and flesh aren’t a sin.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes and rocked with him. “You taught me that, too...”
“This is Eden,” he whispered against her mouth, licking at her lips. “We’re in the garden. No fear, no shame...”
His hands moved through her hair, his shaft teasing her slit, rubbing up and down the length of it.
“This is freedom,” he murmured, rocking, his breath coming faster as he rolled her hips. “...salvation...”
“Yes.” Libby kissed him back, her tongue probing between his teeth.
“Wild nights, wild nights—” He whispered between kisses, his hands grabbing her hips and pressing against her with his erection.
“What is that?” Libby murmured. “The bible?”
“No.” Her father gasped, groaning when she reached between them to touch his length, her fingers tickling the head. “Emily Dickinson...Rowing in Eden; Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor-tonight... In thee...”
Libby moaned, rocking under him like a wave. “Yes, Daddy... in me...”
“Oh, Libby—” She stopped his words with her mouth, her wet slit open and rubbing over his shaft as she moved her hips up to meet him.
“Yes,” she whispered, reaching down and touching him, rubbing the spongy, velvety tip of him into her flesh, making them both moan with the sensation.
He groaned when she pulled at him, pressed him, aiming him.
“Please.” Libby wiggled, squeezed, the head of him positioned against her softness. She rocked, the tip moving over the slick folds, through her wetness, not quite inside.
“Oh God
,” he moaned against her neck. “Oh fuck, oh God...”
The word made Libby gasp and sent a jolt straight up her spine. “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered against his ear, still rocking, pushing him a little further. “Fuck... me.”
He gasped and she clung to him, squirming.
“Don’t leave me, Daddy,” she pleaded.
They both gave in to it, right at that moment, a cry that sounded like he was in pain escaping her father’s lips as he moved into her, sinking past her resistance, making her gasp and blink in startled surprise at the thick stretch of him between her thighs.
“Oh!” she cried, clutching him, and they both trembled.
“It’s ok,” he whispered, feathering kisses over her freckled cheeks. “Daddy’s here.”
“Yes.” Libby squeezed him between her legs, feeling the slow stretch and burn starting to fade.
“Here ...” Her hand reached down between them, feeling the point of contact, the thick pulse of him filling her. “Here.”
“Oh baby girl,” he murmured as he began to move inside of her, and she wrapped her limbs around him, pulling him in tighter, wanting more. The heat between her thighs began to grow, the delicious friction of his shaft sliding through her wetness making her weak with it.
“God...” His movements were faster, and she remembered how he moved inside her mother that night, how she had watched them and wanted this.
His voice was hoarse and pained. “Oh God forgive me...you feel so...good...”
“Yes,” Libby purred into his ear, grinding her hips up against his, feeling him driving deeper into her soft, pink flesh. “Fuck me, Daddy!”
He groaned at her words, his breath hot and coming fast in her ear. “Beautiful baby girl,” he whispered, and she felt the swell of him between her legs. “You make Daddy feel soooo good.”
“Harder,” Libby begged, digging her nails into his back, arching. He was rubbing there, between her legs, a slow burn turning quickly to white heat. “Faster...oh, please!”
He grunted, moving harder into her flesh, the wet sound of their bodies together filling her ears as they rocked. She moaned, meeting him, feeling every inch of him as he thrust harder into her, the bed shaking beneath her with his effort.
