by Margot Scott
I hopped down from the counter and went to him, taking his face in my hands. He pressed his cheek to my palm but kept his arms at his sides. I kissed his face and tried to kiss his lips. He slipped away before our mouths could meet.
“Maybe you should’ve gone home with your mother,” he said.
My stomach seized. “You can’t mean that.”
“Jett, I’ve spent the last six years telling myself I was in the right, that your mother was just paranoid. Then you show up here and... I can’t even say it.”
He let me take his hand. "Weeks ago, when I asked you if my father was a bad man, you said he might be the worst. Were you talking about yourself?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters! Mom’s wrong about you. You're nothing like him."
“I don’t know what I am anymore. When I saw you at the museum it was like waking up after having been asleep my whole life. Then later, in your room, when you asked for a hug and I was finally able to hold you, I couldn’t get close enough.”
A twinge of loss skittered up my spine as he pulled his hand away. I wanted to snatch it back, to staple it to mine so he couldn’t pry us apart again without drawing blood.
“I got hard that night just thinking about your mouth,” he said.
The divot between his brows looked deeper than I was used to seeing. I was giving him wrinkles. Good, I thought. Let me mark his outsides as permanently as he’s marked my insides.
“You know the saying, when something is so wrong it feels right?” he asked. “This wasn’t like that at all. It didn’t feel wrong, which I guess tells us all we need to know. You might not be my biological daughter, but I was your father for twelve years. And I’m exactly what your mother thinks I am.”
My mother had called him a monster.
And if anyone had firsthand experience with monsters, it was her.
I wanted to crawl out of my skin thinking about what her own father had done to her as a child. Still, that didn’t mean she was right about Mason.
“You’re both wrong,” I said. “She thought you were going to abuse me, and that’s not what this is at all. We love each other. We just love each other differently than most people.”
“Differently is one way of putting it.”
I pressed both hands to his chest. “Is that why you won’t have sex with me? Because you think it’ll prove her right?”
“What I’ve already done has proven her right a thousand times over.” He guided my arms to my sides and then kissed my forehead, as if that simple fatherly gesture were enough to soothe me.
He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and laid it on the countertop.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“A paternity test. Technically you need a judge or a physician to order one for you in the state of New York, but I had my lawyer pull some strings.”
I turned the envelope over. “It’s opened.”
He nodded. I ran my fingers along the jagged edges of the torn white envelope, marveling at how something so small and innocuous could terrify a big, formidable man like Mason.
“Gretchen already lied to us once,” he said. “I wanted to be sure before we did something we couldn’t take back.”
I didn’t need to ask him what the results were. I already knew the truth.
He plucked the envelope from my hands.
“Then,” he continued, “I realized I was missing the point. It doesn’t matter that I’m not your real father. I was a father to you for over half your life. I never should have let you come here, let alone touched you. I’m sorry I let you believe I could be the man you needed.”
Panic wrapped itself around my heart at the finality in his words. “But you are. You’re exactly what I need!”
“No, sweetheart.” His voice splintered. “You deserve someone who’s capable of loving you like a normal father should.”
“I don’t want a normal father. I want my father. I want you.”
A small spark of hope ignited and then fizzled in his eyes.
My mother had been dead-wrong about him, but she was right about one thing: there was no going back for either of us. It didn’t matter if he never touched me again. We’d altered each other irrevocably, like paint swirled on a palette. You couldn’t take violet and separate it back into blue and red. Once the colors were blended, all you had was purple.
I reached for him, and he guided my hands away. Once again, my eyes flooded with tears. I fought to keep them there, convinced that I wouldn’t be able to remain standing if he saw me crack again.
But I was already broken.
As desperate as I was to be with him, I couldn’t bear the thought of Mason hating himself for loving me too much, or too intensely, or whatever my mother would accuse him of next. We were either in this together, completely and shamelessly, or not at all.
I tore the envelope from his grasp and ripped it in half.
“I don’t care what the test says. You think seeing it on paper makes a difference, but obviously it doesn’t. You'll always find another excuse to push me away. You say you can’t love me like a normal father. Then don’t. Love me like a father and a lover and a mentor and everything else, because I need all of you. And if you can’t give me that, then I guess I can’t have any of it. Because being loved halfway hurts too much.”
As impossible as it felt to turn away from him, I somehow managed to make myself go. Mason caught my arm, his grip tight enough to pinch.
“Jett, wait—” For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Please, I thought. Kiss me. Tell me to stay. I held my breath and waited for him to make the right choice.
He released me.
A sob shook my chest. There was no stanching the flow of tears now.
I wiped my eyes and stepped away from the man who’d been Daddy for so much of my life, the man who looked like he’d aged ten years in the last ten seconds.
“At least I got to say goodbye this time,” I said. “That should count for something.”
Chapter Sixteen
I cried in the shower, and while brushing my teeth, and then went to my room to cry some more. Not the master bedroom where Mason and I had slept together, but the guestroom he brought me to that first afternoon.
There wasn’t much point in shutting off the light, since I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping, but I welcomed the darkness anyway. Part of me wished I could crawl back into the dark, where my parents had put me. Had I known the truth would be this devastating, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to drag it into the light.
It was a lie I could almost believe.
When I promised Mason that I would stop asking questions, a part of me knew I could no more give up my desperate search for answers than I could command myself to stop breathing. The truth always had a way of unearthing itself, no matter how deeply you buried it. My mother knew that better than anyone.
The other lie I’d been feeding myself since the day I arrived was that I’d forgiven Mason for walking out of my life in the first place. In truth, I had only set aside my pain and anger. It wasn’t until I learned the real story, and saw the anguish on his face, that I was able to truly forgive him—not exactly the reaction my mother had hoped for in coming here, that much was obvious.
But my forgiveness was irrelevant as long as Mason refused to forgive himself. In my naiveté, I’d assumed that learning the truth would bring us together. Instead, it only served to wedge us further apart.
I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle the sounds of my mewling. My father was about to exit my life again, only this time, it would be me walking out the door.
As close as we were—which was admittedly closer than we would have been if he hadn't left in the first place—it wasn’t close enough to bridge the gap between the man he was and the monster he was terrified of becoming.
In the end, maybe we were both monsters for wanting what was forbidden.
I rolled onto my side and watched the lights flicker in the wi
ndows of distant apartment buildings. I almost didn’t hear the doorknob creak and click.
Footsteps padded softly all the way to the bed.
My pulse jumped.
Was he here to make one last drawing of his sleeping daughter before she erased herself from his life?
A slight draft hit my back as the covers lifted. The mattress dipped. Mason’s warm body spread out alongside mine, solid and consoling. I wanted to press against it, to align myself with the wall of hard muscle, but I was afraid I might not have the strength to crawl out of bed again if I did.
I had meant what I said about the pain of being loved halfway.
Maybe I could’ve settled for a normal father-daughter relationship before, but now that I knew how it felt to be kissed and touched and desired by him, there was no pretending that normal would ever be enough.
He caressed my arm, the heat from his hand soaking into my skin. “Want to know the hardest part about being a parent?”
I shrugged one shoulder.
“Most of the time, you still feel like a kid yourself. You have no fucking clue what you’re doing, but you’re supposed to know what’s best for this tiny, fragile creature that’s hellbent on getting itself into all kinds of trouble.”
He tucked his leg between my calves and wrapped his arm around my middle. There was no telling where his body ended and mine began.
“Sometimes dads fuck up,” he said. “I know I’ve fucked up more times than I can count. You’ll always be my baby, Jetty. I’ll never stop looking out for you. But you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a bold heart filled with love.”
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. I swallowed the small stone in my throat.
“You’re the only one who can decide what’s right for you.” Though his tone was unquestionably sober, I couldn’t ignore the persistent ridge of his cock pressed against my backside.
“What if the things that are right for me feel wrong to you?” I asked.
He hummed low in his throat as I ground against him. For sure, his body wanted the same things mine did. It was his mind that needed convincing.
“Maybe it’s time we redefined the terms.” He slid his hand under my tank top to stroke my abdomen, sending warm chills skittering throughout my nervous system. “I swear, I never wanted anything like this when you were little.”
The insistence in his voice broke my heart all over again. It was a statement he shouldn’t have needed to make, though I understood why he felt he had to say it.
“I believe you,” I said.
His lips brushed my neck. "The day you were born was the second-happiest day of my life.”
“What was the first?”
He smiled against my skin. “The day you came back to me.”
Everything I thought I’d lost came rushing back—the familiar sense of safety and comfort, sharpened to a fine edge by an insatiable hunger. I craned my neck to grant him access to my mouth. He kissed me as though he were in danger of drowning and my breath was the only thing keeping him afloat. His hands slid up into my shirt to cup my bare breasts.
“You’re the greatest thing I ever made.” He may not have made me with his own body, but he’d undoubtedly had a hand in molding me into the woman I’d become. “I can’t lose you again, baby girl. I won’t lose you.”
I turned in his arms so I could look at him. “I don’t want to lose you either. But I won’t be the reason you hate yourself.”
Lights from outside washed his face in cool blue tones. He stroked my side, his expression looking more resolute by the minute. Still, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
“I could never hate myself for loving you the way you deserve.” He kissed the tip of my nose, his warm breath washing over my cheeks in gentle gusts. “And you deserve to be with someone who can love you hard enough for two.”
Some girls were lucky enough to have both a father and a lover, two distinct streams of affection. Somehow, I had managed to tap into both streams from the same man. It wouldn’t matter if I had a thousand lovers after him, none could ever love me as deeply or intensely as he did.
“So love me harder, Daddy.”
I felt his cock twitch against my thigh through his boxers; I loved that I could do that to him, make his body crave my touch without even trying. Mason had captured me from every angle, awake and asleep, naked and clothed. Yet somehow, he still couldn’t get enough of me.
His mouth claimed mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs and the words from my lips. My nipples stiffened as he lifted my shirt to expose my breasts. Easing me onto my back, he dipped his head to take my nipple into his mouth. My clit pulsed like a heart beating between my legs, as he teased my breasts with his tongue. I ran my hands over his hair, pulling gently, then harder when his teasing devolved into torture.
“Please, Daddy. I need...”
I was at a loss for words. He gazed up at me, his darkened stare grasping mine and refusing to let go.
“What do you need, baby girl?”
“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” I licked my lips. “I just need you.”
Mason helped me pull my shirt off, taking a moment to admire my nakedness before he scooped me up to straddle his lap. I latched onto him like a thing possessed, pushing my breasts against him. He gripped my hips and rocked his erection against me, sending sharp pulses of agonizing desire straight to my bones.
We kissed like our survival depended on how thoroughly we could wear out our tongues.
I couldn’t take the ache inside me any longer.
Reaching between us, I freed his cock from the confines of his underwear. After a few exploratory pumps, I yanked the crotch of my underwear aside and guided him to my folds.
“Patience, baby.” He chuckled softly—a most infuriating sound if there ever was one—and caught my wrist in his hand.
I nearly sobbed with frustration.
“But you said—”
“I only meant, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
He laid me down on the bed and kissed my jaw, then my throat, continuing in a straight line down my chest and stomach, pausing only to lick a circle around my belly button.
Gooseflesh pricked across my skin in the wake of his mouth. As exasperating as it felt to be put off yet again, I had a feeling he was about to make it worth my while. He slid my panties off, wrapped his arms around my thighs and settled between my legs.
I’d lost track of the number of times we’d done this, but the hunger in his gaze when he saw my pussy for the first time always made me shiver. He parted my lips and planted a kiss just above my clit. My blood turned to honey in my veins, slow and sweet and golden. I wanted to kiss him, but he was too far away, so I nibbled on my fingers instead.
He traced my inner labia with the tip of his tongue and then fucked into me. I gasped as his nose met my clit. His tongue delved deeper. I writhed, my hips lifting off the bed as my inner muscles tightened.
“Too much?” The tilt of Mason’s smile made it clear he knew exactly how much—or how little—it took to make his little girl flail around like a fish on the dock.
I went limp as he dipped his head to lick my pussy from top to bottom.
He flattened his tongue and lapped languidly, focusing on my clit. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the feeling of having my bones turn to gelatin.
His tongue flicked and fluttered before easing into a steady rhythm. A warm, welcome flush swept through me. My nipples pebbled, aching to join in on the fun. I massaged my breasts, ratcheting my pleasure even higher. His tongue disappeared for a second and then returned, along with two slick fingers. He teased my opening, then slid inside.
I cried out at the delicious intrusion, melting like ice cream in the summer sun.
He sucked my clit softly. Tiny eruptions of pleasure lit up my brain like fireworks. He added a third finger, fucking into me while his lips and tongue worked their incredible magic.
“Oh God... That fee
ls...” I couldn’t hold the words in my head long enough to say them out loud. My arousal crested. I felt the urge to bear down, to clench up, to be everywhere at once.
I came around Mason’s fingers, my arms and legs tensing. He fixed his mouth over me, playing with my clit and stretching out my orgasm until it all became too much and I had to wave him off.
He flashed a glossy smile. “I fucking love making you come, sweetheart.”
“Me, too.” I grinned languidly. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“My pleasure, baby girl.”
He wiped his face with the sheet and then crawled up to kiss me. He’d left a thin sheen of arousal on his lips just for me. I savored the delicate tang.
His cock nudged my belly, spreading a drop of precum above my navel. I took him in my hand, stroking lightly and coaxing a low growl from his throat.
“Christ, my balls feel like dead weight.” He groaned as I swirled my thumb around the tip of his cock. “I want you so fucking much. Too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I cupped his jaw and forced him to meet my gaze. “The only way you could hurt me now is by making me wait another second.”
His mouth curved into a knowing smile. He laid his palm between my breasts, over my heart, then skimmed his fingers down to cup my mound. Arousal bloomed fresh between my thighs. I whined softly. His gaze darkened as he palmed my swollen flesh.
Please, I thought, don’t give yourself a chance to overthink it.
I pressed against him, needy and insistent. He reached for his cock. My heartrate picked up speed as he positioned the head at my folds.
“Put your arms around me,” he said. “And tell me if anything hurts.”
Thousands of tiny moths took flight inside my ribcage. I clutched at his back and shoulders as he slid the head of his cock inside me. My muscles burned. He withdrew to the very tip and then eased forward. I inhaled sharply.
“Am I hurting you?”
He was, a little, but I didn’t mind. “Not really.”
