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.

And now I have the attention and affection of not one but two men.

Maybe I should stop worrying and complaining and just…you know, try to enjoy it.

Whoa, what a shocking thought.

Me, actually enjoying my life and not just doing what I’m supposed to do like a good little autobot? Perish the thought!

God, I’ve lived so long in fear of repeating Mom’s mistakes that I’ve barely allowed myself to even live. Never color outside the lines, Sarah. Do the dishes and clean up after your slob of a mother, Sarah. Never let anyone see what a screwed up homelife you have, Sarah.

Look perfect.

Be perfect.

But… what if I just gave it all up?

All the self-judgement.

All the guilt at stepping a toe outside the line.

What if I let go of shame?

Let go of everything and learn who Sarah really is apart from my mother’s daughter? Completely unshackled?

Just the idea releases the heaviness that’s been weighing me down ever since last weekend. Then I immediately feel exactly how exhausted I am.

I’ve barely been sleeping. Every night waiting for something, I don’t even know what—one or both of them to show up at my door. I shake my head and laugh at myself.

Whatever this is, I’m sure we can sit down like mature adults and discuss it and what we want it to be. I don’t know why I’ve been so wimpy about it. I’ve let fear rule me for too long. I should have spoken up and asked more questions on Saturday. Clarified exactly what was going on, what I was confused about, and what I wanted.

Communication. You know, that little thing everyone talks about as the most important element in any relationship? How are the guys supposed to know what I want unless I speak up? I want to smack my forehead at how obvious the solution to all my anxiety is.

I put the dish sponges up to dry and hurry up the stairs to my room, feeling much lighter than I have all week. Taking a shower only further loosens the last little bit of tension from my muscles. I slip into bed, totally calm and relaxed.

I settle under the covers and read for a while until it’s nine-thirty and my eyes get too heavy to stay open any more. It’s early for me but after my week of non-sleep, I turn off my overhead light and slip back into bed.

My nightlight’s on. Naturally.

Just the perfect level of darkness. I close my eyes and settle onto my side. I’m about to doze off when I get the slightest chill down my spine. Silly, but I think it’s because my back is to the door.

Which is absolutely ridiculous. Oh my God, what am I? Seven years old?

Still, I roll over, open my eyes quickly, see that my door is firmly shut, and breathe out in relief.

Then I close my eyes again and snuggle deeper into my pillow.

Still, a second later, that same stupid chill comes again.

I internally roll my eyes at myself and groan. I refuse to spend another sleepless night jumping at every other noise.

Still, I obey the dumb compulsion and my eyes flip open.

Only to see Dad’s huge silhouette filling my door.

I scream and grab my pillow to my chest. Then I throw it at him. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Dad catches the pillow, chuckling as he steps into the room and approaches my bed. “Daddy’s sorry, sweet girl.” His voice seems deeper than it was just a couple of hours ago in the kitchen.

In only a few of his long-legged strides, he’s over to my bedside. He sits down and lays his large hands on my shoulders. Without much effort he rolls me slightly so that I’m on my stomach and he’s massaging my back.

“You’ve told me about your homework and what you’ve been doing at school during dinner the past few days,” Dad says, leaning over, “but you haven’t told me what I’ve really wanted to know.” This last part he hisses in my ear.

I tremble underneath him as his hands get rougher kneading my shoulder muscles and the back of my neck.

“W-w-what’s that?” I ask, hating how timid my voice sounds. Why am I muttering like a bumbling idiot. I’m supposed to be communicating my wants and needs. I take a gulp of air. “I was hoping we could talk tonight ab—”

“You haven’t told me whether or not you’ve been a good girl or a bad girl,” he growls. And then without waiting for me to reply, he flips me over on his lap, yanks down my panties, and his palm lands on my ass.

I yelp in surprise as he spanks me again, hard and sure. “Have you been letting other boys look at what’s mine?” he asks before landing another smack. “Have you been flaunting that tight little ass and making the schoolboys’ cocks hard now that you know how good dicks feel shoved up your nasty cunt?”

“Wha—? No, I would nev—”

“Don’t lie to me!” he yells. “Once little girls get cock, it’s all they can think about. I know how you little sluts are. I try to find you when you’re pure. Before the world corrupts you. When you’re still sweet. Are you still my sweet girl?”

He jams a finger up inside me.

And I’m not dry.

I’m slick. As rough as he is, his finger slips right in.

Somehow all of his rough, filthy talk, even his meanness, has made me wet.

I like this?

This turns me on?

Dad sticks a second finger inside me and starts to scissor them, stretching me and making me even slicker for him.

“Fuck but you’re so sweet and tight while you’re still innocent,” he mumbles into my hair. “You smell like a beautiful, sweet little girl should. So clean and fresh and good.”

“Just for you and Dom,” I whisper, panting and on the edge of tears again even while confusing sensations of pleasure rise up in my belly. “No one else. Ever!”

I don’t know why he’s saying the things he’s saying. They’re mean and hurtful and I was supposed to be standing up for myself. Talking in a mature way about what I want and expect and—

“Christ, sweet girl, maybe you are the one after all,” Dad says.

Then he flips me over and I hear the noise of a buckle being undone.

Even though I’m expecting it, the brief second of bracing myself still isn’t enough to prepare for his giant cock breaching me.

There’s no gentle nudge and exploration of my lips like Dominick did. No, like before, Dad impales me long and hard, piercing me straight through and pinning me to the bed.

I let out a low, “oof,” at the pain of it.

It’s such a tight fit, that even though I’m no longer a virgin and was wet—God there’s no denying it still hurts. Not nearly as much as the first time. But he’s still just too damn big. And I was wet, but not that wet.

He groans low with the first stick, then almost immediately pulls out and shoves back in.

The sting makes it impossible to feel any pleasure. I’m sure my face is a grimace, but Dad just cups my cheeks. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl. You’re making Daddy feel so good. do you have any idea what a good girl you are? You let Daddy fuck you so good.”

Then he kisses me.

His kisses are nothing like Dominick’s kisses. Dad kisses just like he screws. His tongue is forceful. Thrusting. He pulls back to kiss my lips but only because he’s half-nipping and biting. Always with teeth. Never for a second am I allowed any leeway in the kiss. He’s in command every second.

I’m left gasping and confused.

Right when the pain starts to ebb and the pleasure starts to warm in my center again, Dad pulls out. He lifts me off the bed. I stumble to my feet but Dad’s sharp voice commands, “On your knees.”

I get on my knees on the hard floor. I’m off-kilter. Like before, everything’s a haze. There’s only Dad. This moment. His voice.

“Open.”

I don’t— What does he—

His hands are on my jaw when I don’t respond quickly enough, urging my jaw open.

Oh, he means—

He’s shoving his cock in my mouth before I even finish the thought. He jams it to the back of my throat and beyond.

“Swallow it,” he orders.

I try to protest that I can’t. I don’t know. I don’t— None of this is— I can’t—

He just pulls out and pushes his cock past my lips and into my throat, choking me again.

“Godfuckingdammit,” he yells. “That’s right, gag on Daddy’s giant cock. Do you know how much I love that sound?” he asks, all but a shout. “Your innocent fucking noises drive me fucking crazy. Gag on me again,” he shoves it in and I’m gagging, choking, spitting. Oh God, I’m going to die if he keeps it up much longer.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he yells and with one more gagging thrust his cum is spurting into my mouth and spilling down onto my cheeks and chin to my chest.

“Swallow,” he pants. “Swallow it now or I’ll punish you so hard you won’t sit for a week!”

I gag and try but I just keep spitting and sputtering.

Then he reaches down and pinches my nose shut. Can’t breathe! Can’t—! Why would he—?

“Swallow!” he roars again.

But in all my panicking, I do swallow.

And when I do, it’s like a switch flips.

I swallow and gasp and lick at everything covering my lips. And then I suckle at Daddy’s cock and lick every drop from his fingers when he gathers a puddle of it from my breast and shoves it in my mouth. I have to please Daddy. I’ll do anything to please Daddy.

In the end, Daddy’s beaming at me, a halo behind him from my nightlight.

“You might just be Daddy’s perfect little girl after all. Don’t wash up until morning.”

He leaves me there just like that, heaving for breath and totally destroyed, his cum still all over me, inside and out.