Your Dad Will Do (A Touch of Taboo)

“That’s right.” Shane shoves into me hard enough that it drives me several inches up the couch. “My cock.”

He fucks me like he’s mad at me. Like by showing up here tonight I’ve opened Pandora’s box for both of us and now we can never shut it again. It’s fierce and just shy of brutal, like he wants to punish me for making him want me.

I love every second of it.

This time, my orgasm has teeth and claws and rips me to pieces as I come. I twist and bite his arm, needing some kind of outlet for the pleasure that’s bordering on pain. Shane curses and digs his hand into my hair, prying me off him. His strokes become rougher, more frenzied and he buries his face in my neck as he comes.

I stare up at the ceiling as our harsh breathing becomes the only sound in the room. Part of me can’t believe what we just did. The rest of me is wondering when we can do it again. He asked me to stay the weekend, but surely that’s not what he actually wants? He’s assuaged his curiosity now, slaked his lust. He’ll get me dressed and send me on my way now. Surely.

I’m so busy preparing myself for that swift exit that it takes me several long second to register that he’s leveraged himself up and is searching my face. “Lily.” There’s a note of concern in the way he says my name, as if it’s not the first time.

“What?”

“Did I hurt you?” He slides his hand along the base of my skull where my scalp is smarting a little from how roughly he yanked me off him. It’s barely a twinge, but I have to fight down the impulse to rub all of me against all of him at the careful way he touches me now, when a few short minutes ago he was manhandling me while spilling filth into my ears. The contrast should be jarring, but it just feels sexy as hell. “Lily, answer me.”

“I’m fine.” My voice is raspy. “Better than fine.” I clear my throat. “Sorry about your arm.”

“It’s nothing.” He clasps my chin, so much gentler than the last time and studies my face. “You’d tell me if I hurt you.” It doesn’t come out like a question. It comes out like a command.

I lick my lips. “Yes, I’d tell you.”

Whatever he sees in my expression seems to be enough for him because he nods and moves off me. Out of me. I whimper a little at the loss and shove the sound down deep. I don’t want him to misunderstand it.

Shane looks down at his cock and grimaces. “Give me a second.”

“Sure.” I manage to drag myself into a seated position by the time he returns from the bathroom, his clothing righted. He looks at me for so long, I brace myself. This is where he ushers me out.

Finally Shane shakes his head. “You still want that drink?”

I blink. “Um. Yes?”

“Lose the garters and tights.” He doesn’t wait for a response. He just walks away, expecting me to obey.

And I do. I unclasp the garters and peel off the tights, and then slip off the belt itself. When he returns a few minutes later with fresh drinks, I’m standing there naked, not sure what to do. We just fucked on the couch, but it feels weird as hell to just sit down.

Shane stops when he sees me and arches his brows. “Problem?”

I lift my hands and then let them drop. “In my head, this ended when we both orgasmed. I don’t know how to handle this.” I motion between us.

If anything, his brows rise higher. “Lily,” he says my name slowly. “You called me Daddy while you came on my cock, and this is what makes you feel awkward?”

Heat surges beneath my skin, and I don’t have to look down to know I’m blushing. “It’s different.”

“No shit.” He walks slowly toward me and passes over my drink. I raise it and take a long sip. It’s cool and fruity and exactly how I like it. Shane drops onto the couch and crooks his fingers at me. “Come here.”

I expect—But then, I should know better by now. If I had a plan coming into tonight, we’ve gone off the rails. Apparently we’re going to keep going off the rails. I let Shane pull me down into his lap and even though we’ve now had sex, I can’t quite get over how much bigger he is than I am. His son is built leaner, but Shane is all broad warrior. Age hasn’t softened him a single bit. He runs his callused hands up my outer thigh to my hip. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t come here for.”

He makes a face. “Not about that. Not about what I’m going to do to you the second I’m recovered.” He gives my hip a light squeeze as if he can’t help touching me, as if he’s not quite sure this is real. “I’m sorry that he was so fucking stupid to throw someone as special as you away.”

“Shane.” I wait for him to look at me. “I really, really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad, baby girl. You came here looking for revenge, and if I’m going to take part in that, then you’re going to have to bend, too.” He skates his hand back down to my knee, a slow drag that might be comfort or might be the beginnings of a new seduction. “I thought I raised him better, but I fucked up somewhere along the way.”

I’m not in the mood to defend either Shane or Max. It doesn’t fucking matter that Max isn’t a total piece of shit, even if he is a cheating asshole. Maybe the relationship felt just as off to him as it did to me and that was his only way of dealing with it. It doesn’t excuse what he did—nothing can do that—but surely I wouldn’t have been touching myself to thoughts of his dad if things were perfect in our relationship. I take another swallow of my drink. “It wasn’t right between us. I think we both wanted it to be, but it wasn’t.”

He mirrors my thoughts with his words. “That doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Slowly, oh so slowly, I lay my head on his shoulder. “I’m probably a right asshole to be here right now.”

“Let’s just say there’s enough asshole in this situation to go round.” He sighs. “Too late to take it back now.”

Against all reason, that makes me smile. I twist to look up at him. “You mean you don’t want to go back to an hour ago before you knew what my pussy tastes like?”

He taps a stern finger against my lips, but his dark eyes twinkle. “You’ve got a mouth on you, baby girl.”

I lean forward and catch his finger between my teeth and then suck it into my mouth. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I’m tired of talking about Max and realizing that I’m just as bad as he is right now, or maybe I just can’t stand the thought of being this close to Shane without having some part of him inside me. The reason doesn’t matter. His reaction does.

He twists his wrist and grasps my chin, his eyes going hard in a way that makes my body sing to life. “I would have thought you’d need more time to recover after what we just did.”

I would have thought so, too, but I’m already fighting not to squirm in his lap. I swirl my tongue around his finger and beg him with my eyes. I don’t even know what I’m begging for. It doesn’t matter. Shane seems to know.

He takes my glass from my hand, sets it on the side table next to his, and then shifts me around until my back is against his chest. I’m still trying to figure out where this is going, to anticipate his next touch, when he starts idly running his hands up and down my body. My hips. My sides. Palming my breasts. Up to bracket my throat and then moving back down. “Needy little slut,” he murmurs in my ear. “You get a taste for orgasms at my hand and that’s all you want, isn’t it?”

I shamelessly spread my legs, trying to will him to touch me. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

“Thought you said you couldn’t go again.” His rough hand comes down on my pussy, clenching me almost tightly enough to hurt. I’ve never felt so fucking owned in my entire life. He grips me like I’m his, and I’m suddenly not sure he’s wrong.

My breath saws in my lungs. Did he ask a question? I don’t know and I can’t think to ask. For his part, Shane keeps gripping me tightly as he drags his mouth over my shoulder and up to my neck. “You’re always playing the tease, baby girl. Teasing me for two long years, and then you finally gift me with this pussy and tease me like you’re only going to give me three bullshit orgasms. This pussy?” He slaps me hard enough to make me flinch back against him. “It’s mine for the next three days.”

“But—” I don’t even know why I’m arguing. This is what I want.

“No.” He gives my pussy another slap. “Who’s this pussy belong to for the next three days?”

Against all reason, my throat gets tight. I blink rapidly. “You.”

Another slap. “Do better.”

I swallow hard, my voice thick. “It’s your pussy, Daddy.”

“That’s right.” Just like that, his touch turns soft and almost tender, dragging his fingers over my slit. “It’s my pussy. And I say when you’ve had enough. We’re not done tonight, are we?”

I lean my head back against his shoulder as a tear slips free. I spread my legs wider yet. “No, Daddy. We’re not done tonight.”