by Stasia Black
But no, his hands simply caress reverently up and down my ribcage.
“You’re so beautiful,” Dominick whispers, then he does an ab curl to lift up and kiss me. I sink the last little bit of the way down so that I’m fully impaled.
It’s the sweetest moment.
And then Dad starts to pluck at my nipples. “So hot. That’s right. Fuck your brother good.” Dad sucks at my neck while Dominick kisses me.
Well, at Dad’s words, Dominick breaks away for the slightest moment. I think I see his face tighten with some kind of tension, but then his lips are on mine the next second.
Every worry, every thought, every apprehension I’ve had about everything that’s happened throughout the entire morning evaporates under Dominick’s kisses. Having him wrapped around me—while also having him inside me? Dad’s manhood might might have the slightest physical edge on Dom, but I’ve never felt more full than when I’m with Dominick in this way.
Full of love. Full of warmth. Safety. Safe-keeping.
When he finally starts moving his shaft in and out, it’s the most right thing in the world. Almost instantly, I’m on the edge of climax
Dominick sees it.
Of course he does. He’s sitting up so that we’re chest to chest, still holding me close though I can’t imagine the abdominal strength it must be taking for him to keep the position. He swivels his hips up and into me, hitting me at such a perfect angle.
Dad bites the back of my neck, but I barely feel it because Dominick—and then waves and waves of—ohhhhhhh.
Where the other orgasms today were sharp and short, this one is a warm heat that lights me up from my core. It washes outward to the tips of my fingers and then flows through every follicle of hair. No corner or cell or molecule of my body is left untouched. I gasp with the shock and pleasure and how fully Dominick just penetrated every single bit of my being.
I’ve never felt so beautiful, so—
“Look at our little whore, son,” Dad says, pinching my nipples hard. “Little nympho just milked your cock like she lives for it. God, they always want it so bad.”
I yank away from Dominick, mortified, and swing around to look at his dad.
What a jerk! What just happened between Dominick and I was so perfect and he—
“How did it feel to have both your Daddy and your brother’s cocks inside you within half an hour, sweet girl?” Dad’s voice is softer as he cups my cheek. With his other hand, he’s yanking roughly at his cock. He’s fully erect again, and he twists when he gets to the glistening tip, then jams his hand back down.
My tirade dies on my lips.
Oh my God, he’s right. I just let two different men have sex with me, one right after the other. If that’s not the very definition of a whore, what is?
Dominick slips out of me and Dad’s hand slides around to grab my hair. Dad gets on his knees on the bed and he pushes me down on my back.
“Open your mouth. Swallow what Daddy gives you. Show me how much you love being a little whore for Daddy.”
Then he starts jacking himself off right over my face.
Just like they did in that one porno my friend Bonny made me watch one time. I thought it was degrading and horrible then.
And now? I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s happening and I can’t think—
“Open up,” Dad commands, slapping my cheek with his dick, his face going dark when my mouth remains closed. “Don’t make Daddy punish you again.”
Desperately, I search for Dominick. He’s sitting on the other side of the bed, his back to us.
“Dominick,” I whisper.
Dominick turns to me immediately. I reach out a hand and he takes it. I open my mouth to say something else and cum hits my face.
“Sweet little whore!” Dad shouts.
I sputter as cum fills my mouth and coats my cheeks. My eyes squeeze shut so I’m not prepared when the cock shoves in my mouth.
“Suck it,” Dad orders. “Suck it clean.”
“Dad!” Dominick objects, but I do what I’m told.
I open wide and accept the big, thick object in. The cum is strange tasting, salty and bitter and a little sour. I lick and suck and cough and I’m pretty sure there are tears running down my cheeks, mixing with the mess.
Dad finally pulls his cock out of my mouth. He brings his large hand to my face. With his thumb, he rubs my cheek, smearing my tears together with the remainder of his cum. “My sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs before kissing the top of my head and then dropping to the side of me. He reaches for a pillow, one of which somehow managed to actually stay on the bed in spite of… all of it.
He shoves it underneath his head and closes his eyes. He looks perfectly at peace. His chest and temples are sweat-slicked, sure, but he seems like he just finished a vigorous workout. Worn out but like he has no worries in the world.
Certainly not like he just finished deflowering his step-daughter along with his son in an insane threesome.
I’m afraid to look in Dominick’s direction.
If he’s fallen asleep just as easily and left me alone, after— After—
I open my mouth and try to take a breath but the air just isn’t there. And there’s still Dad’s cum all over me. I gasp for air again but still can’t manage it.
“Sarah, come on.”
Once again, Dominick’s strong hand grasps mine.
That air I was searching for so desperately finally flows into my lungs. I look over at Dom and his hazel eyes are full of concern. He helps me off the bed. It’s warm in the house but my body is covered in goosebumps. I shiver as he leads me out of my room.
I have no idea where he’s taking me but I feel less and less connected to my body or my life or really… anything at the moment.
Is this what every girl feels like after losing her virginity?
Is this what it means to transition to womanhood? Like you dissociate from your own body for a little bit and feel kind of floaty and weird and—
“Sarah? You okay? You still with me?”
“Huh?” I look over at Dominick as he leads me into his room and closes the door behind us. Dominick’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth tightens.
“Christ, Sarah.” He wets a wash cloth under warm water from the sink and gently scrubs at my face. And then he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me.
For a second I’m sure this is the start of the next round and I tense up. I wait for his hands to drop to my bottom. Or for him to grip my hair and jerk my head back.
But he just…holds me.
Hugging me.
He’s hugging me.
When he tries to pull back, I cling tighter.
“Sarah honey, I’m not letting you go.” He whispers into my hair. “But we need to get you in the bath. You’re freezing. And I can just imagine how sore you must be.” He winces and his face crumbles. “I want to make it better. Please let me make it better.”
His words. They open the dam I didn’t even know I was holding back inside me. A sob bubbles up and I press my head even harder against his warm chest as he leads me to his ensuite bathroom.
He puts a hand on the back of my head and holds me to him while we walk. “Shhhh, shhhh,” he whispers. “It’s all going to be okay. It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll make it okay. I swear.”
When he tries to pull away from me to turn on the bath faucet, I don’t let him. The first burst of tears has slowed, but I can’t, I just can’t release him yet.
He finally maneuvers us so that he can get to the faucet with me attached to him like a starfish suckered to the front of his body.
The splash of the water against the porcelain tub as it fills up is the only sound for a little while. I like the soothing noise it makes. And when I snuggle a little further to the right, the steady thump of Dominick’s heart calms me down even more. I’m so cold and he’s so warm. I want him to keep me warm forever.
The water finally stops.
“It’s ready,”
Dominick says. “You’ve gotta let go so I can help you in.”
I shake my head against his chest. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need a bath.” I hold him even tighter.
After a second, he sighs, then says, “Okay, let go of your death grip and we’ll go in together. Deal?”
I look up at him and smile.
His eyebrows are still slanted in concern, but at my smile, his face softens.
His eyes search mine.
“I love you,” he whispers.
And my heart explodes.
That’s a thing, it really is. And it’s what happens to my heart. Just like earlier, when my orgasm reached throughout my entire body—his words do that now.
Because I feel the same way.
Today has been full of confusion and madness and pleasure and pain but finally here is something I know to be true—I love Dominick Winters.
His eyes widen and he claps his hand over my mouth. “Don’t say it back. I mean— You don’t have to say it back. I mean Christ,” he shakes his head, his neck reddening. “I don’t expect you to feel the same yet. Or ever,” he rushes on. “I would never try to pressure you. And after today…” His eyes shoot back in the direction of my room and his face clouds over.
Meanwhile, I reach up and pull at his hand on my mouth. He finally seems to notice me yanking at him.
“Sorry,” he says and drops his hand.
I can’t contain it another second. “I—
“Don’t—” He cuts me off, this time just with a finger over my lips. “Please, promise you won’t say anything about what I just said. Swear you won’t. I can’t bear it, okay?”
“But—”
He shakes his head vehemently. “Swear.”
I look up at him unhappily but finally nod my head. Why won’t he let me share my feelings with him? Is he afraid I’ll say I don’t love him or that I’ll say I do? Is he regretting what he said already? Did he not mean it, is that it? And if he does love me, why wouldn’t he want to hear it back?
“Come on,” he smiles at me again and kisses the tip of my nose. “Let’s get in before the water gets cold.” And with that, he lifts a foot into the bath.
I follow him. He settles me in front of him in the bath. The hot water feels good but stings slightly against my sore sex.
The soothing warmth and Dominick behind me soon make all the worries of the day slip away, though.
“You know I’ll always take care of you, don’t you, beautiful?” he whispers into my hair, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close.
I nod drowsily and settle my back against his chest.
He chuckles into my hair. “Rest. You deserve it.”
The world dissolves into the warmth and the comfort I feel in his arms. I’m not sure if his next words are real or I just imagine them. “I love you. I’ll never let you be hurt again. I swear, Sarah. I swear on my life.”
Chapter 8
If you would have told me that after a torrid threesome with my stepfather and stepbrother, life would go on as usual, I would never have believed it.
People who’ve had sex with each other can’t be…normal…around each other. Especially after the darker side of Dad I saw come out.
But when we get out of the bath, we find that Dad’s been called in to work. The next week is an especially busy one and I barely see either of the boys except at family dinner each night.
Monday I prepare enchiladas and am ready for everything to be super weird between us all. I was wired about it all day through my classes. Not to mention that sitting through said classes was not especially pleasant because losing one’s virginity—especially in such a… vigorous fashion…God, just say it like it is, Sarah: two Viking-like men fucked your brains out. And it’s left me sore as hell.
But when Dad comes in at six-fifteen on the dot, he says hi and goes up to shower like nothing at all is unusual.
I’m left thinking maybe I just imagined the whole thing? But nope, the soreness between my legs can attest that I did not just have a very vivid fantasy over the weekend.
I felt like Dominick was a bit more wary when he got home after working back to back Sunday-Monday shifts. He kept watching me like I was fine china that might break at any moment when he came in, offering to get things out of the oven, set the table, make tea.
I finally snapped at him to take his seat and get out of my kitchen. He did and then everything was normal. Well, apart from Dad coming in after his shower and smacking my ass before sitting down. “Smells great, sweet girl.”
But that was that. We talked about our days just like normal and no other references were made to our torrid Saturday session.
The whole week’s been like that.
It’s Thursday and I don’t know whether to continue being antsy or if it’s been so long, lowering my guard is okay.
And lowering my guard against what, exactly?
I love Dominick.
And Dad?
Initially when they first moved in, he was the one I connected to more.
I bite my lip as I strain the pasta and then put it back in the pot with the alfredo sauce. But now, my feelings for Dad are more complicated.
I think it’s just that I was so unprepared for what happened on Saturday. It came out of left field. I didn’t know what was going to come next or was expected of me. And then Dad was so…
I blink hard and stir the alfredo sauce as I glance out the kitchen window. It’s a picturesque view into the tree lined street. The sun has set and it’s getting dark. A fat squirrel runs up the limb of the ancient oak that shades our townhouse. I smile as another squirrel chases it around and around.
“What are you dreaming about, sweet girl?”
I screech and twirl around so quickly, the spoon I was stirring the sauce with goes flying. “Oh God, you scared me,” I wheeze, then smack at Dad’s shoulder.
He grins and makes a fake pained expression at my blow.
“Oh no, I made you spill. Sorry, sweetie.” He kisses the top of my head and moves to grab a paper towel to clean up the small spray of sauce that trails the counter and floor. He picks up the spoon and tosses it in the sink.
My heart melts a little in my chest. This is the kind man I first welcomed into my home and my heart. Is it possible to make space for both Dominick and Dad?
God, is that even…okay?
Or is it sick and twisted?
Everything I was ever taught growing up says yes, all of this is completely screwed up. FUBAR as my first boyfriend would have put it.
Beyond all repair.
But Dominick didn’t seem to think so. He just took it in stride when Dad joined in. This is normal for them.
And they’re my family. Family. Something I’ve never had before and always wanted. You make compromises for family. You stretch and grow for them.
Haha. Well, Dad certainly stretched me last Saturday.
Um. Okay, now I’m making really FUBAR jokes in my head.
“I’ll set the table,” I say, shaking my head, completely disturbed at the whole situation. I still no idea which way is up or down.
“Is Dominick going to make it tonight?” I ask.
“Nope, it’s just the two of us.”
My heart thumps harder.
But then Dad and I have a perfectly normal dinner. He talks about the extension for the oncology wing he and the board have been working on for a couple years now. Fundraising is always both the nightmare and lifeblood of Dad’s work.
“But at least I finally get to enjoy one of the perks.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, spearing some spinach from my salad and then mixing it with a little bit of alfredo. The meal has been so relaxing, I’m almost finished with my plate. When I’m nervous or uptight, I can barely eat a thing. But Dad’s so charismatic, I have the feeling he could make the Pope feel at ease in a stripclub.
He smiles as he dishes out a second serving of pasta for himself. “There’s a Father-Daughter Dance and Fundraiser
this weekend for donors. Of course the hospital higher-ups such as yours truly are expected to attend.” He puts down his fork, his green eyes earnest. “It’d be an honor if you’d go with me.”
For a second, there’s a lump in my throat. It’s so stupid, I know it is.
But there are just certain things you miss out on when you don’t have a dad around growing up. All things dad-related—it’s just impossible not to feel cut out from a lot when you’re a kid. Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Innocuous teacher questions like, what do your parents do? The country club Father-Daughter Dance all my friends went to when I was thirteen—yes, when you run in the circles my family does, you’re supposed to attend pretentious things like that. All of it just put a spotlight on the glaring hole in my life.
And when I asked Mom where my real dad was and why he left?
I only got cursing, inevitably followed by days of binge drinking even worse than normal. I asked Grandpa once and was told my father was a lowlife scum who would never get a cent of the family fortune. So that was that.
But here’s this man now eager to step into the role. Gorgeous and vibrant. He wants me. In every sense of the word.
Dad.
I beam at him even as my stomach twists with the knowledge that this is screwed up. And I’m screwed up for wanting it. Really screwed up for wanting it as much as I do.
“I can’t wait.” The words are off my lips before I can even think them through.
Dad reaches over and squeezes my hand. His grin stretches across his face. I’ve made him so happy.
How can that be wrong?
We sit there, eyes and hands locked for a moment, then Dad lets go and we return to eating. He asks me about classes and dinner continues as normal.
After dinner, I do the dishes and Dad dries. Dad finally puts the last dish away. Then he gives my shoulder a squeeze and kisses the back of my head. “Sleep tight, sweet girl.”
I turn and watch his back as he disappears out the kitchen door.
Then I shake my head and brace my hands against the kitchen counter.
Six months ago I would have been eating ramen while buried in blankets on my bed, watching endless reality TV and wishing my life was even half so interesting as it is now. Often crying myself to sleep from loneliness and hoping for something—anything—to change.
