Chapter Five 243

Chapter Five

Swayze

My breathing is loud in the silence of my room. It’s weird. I can’t remember the last time I went to bed before two in the morning. I’m not sure what to do with myself. The posters of boy bands peer down at me from my ceiling, and I try remembering when I put them up there. It must’ve been when I actually cared about this place before Mom started sleeping all hours of the day and missing work. Before the random guys started coming over. Before those men’s lears and the late night parties that ended up in my room. I pinch my eyes closed to push those thoughts away. There’s no room for pity. No room for tears. I’m different now. I own my body and control what happens to it. No one else!

After tossing and turning with no sleep in sight, I decide to get water from the kitchen. I trudge down the narrow hallway into the open layout of the living room kitchen combo. As I quietly shuffle toward the open space, I hear a grunt and heavy breathing, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Did Mom wake up, and now she and Dad are reconnecting after all this time? That would be odd since Mom quit visiting him in jail years ago, claiming she couldn’t stand looking at him any longer. Or did Dad decide to bring someone home to bust a nut in ?

I slowly peek around the corner, my heart hammering at the thought of getting caught. I’m not sure why I care. It’s not like I haven’t walked in on Mom and one of her random guests screwing. But for some reason, this feels different… more significant.

When I realize what I’m seeing, my pounding heart takes control of my body. A vibration begins in my fingertips and travels through my arms, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. My nipples harden into peaks that beg for attention. His head is thrown back, and the cords in his neck bulge. This reminds me of how he stared at me from my doorway, and my first instinct was to taste him. His breathing is ragged, and my fingers itch to take control of him.

My feet have a mind of their own, bringing me closer to him. I’m surprised my arousal isn’t dripping down my leg as I get closer. I find the ache in my clit and rub circles over the thin layer of fabric separating from my bundle of nerves. Can I convince him to forget it’s me? To let go and let me take care of him. It’s probably been a while since he’s felt a woman, and it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. He’s been gone so long and he’s my father in name only.

Silently, I take a step forward and swallow my gasp. He has to have the thickest dick I’ve ever seen. I nudge my panties to the side and slip a finger into my wetness, imagining it was his dick stretching me and hitting that sweet spot over and over. I’m wet just from watching him. A large part of me wants to ride him like I did Cole, but another part wants him to take control. That’s a first. It’s not like me to give up control.

He hisses inwardly as his strokes speed up, the muscles that make up his adonis belt flex. I drag my eyes back to his face and realize his eyes are on me. Then I’m coming hard with a loud “Daddy!” pouring from my lips.

A second later, my dad follows suit, “Swayzee! Fuck!”

Ropes of cum shoot onto his exposed abs, and I can’t move. The show is too erotic to turn away from. But the view is fleeting as he swiftly wipes himself off with the inside of his shirt before yanking up his jeans and buttoning them. Then he stands and approaches me.

My pulse hammers in my ears because I’m not sure what’s about to happen, but I don’t let that stop me from pulling my fingers from my pussy and shoving them in my mouth.

“Zair-Bear,” he growls, towering over me, and I look up at him with doe-eyed innocence. I like how his words make me feel. I want to be his baby girl. I want to relinquish control.

Pulling my digits out of my mouth, I look at him, and my question is almost like a dare, “Daddy?”

He runs his hand over his face, groaning. “You weren’t supposed to see that. I’m sorry. I should’ve… I… I’m… fuck.”

Then he’s striding out of the trailer. He pushes the screen door with so much force that it pops off its spring, which normally brings it back. Its metal frame bangs against the trailer’s siding. He’s pissed.

I might’ve pushed him too far with that last part. Oh well, that was fun.

***

After that scene of Daddy fisting his cock and his abs flexing, covered in his release, I can’t think of anything else. That’s all that played on the inside of my eyelids while I tried to sleep. And I enjoyed every minute of it. What I don’t enjoy is my alarm screaming to life when he groans my name. Not wanting to lose my place in the replay, I slap around my bed, searching for my phone without opening my eyes. The annoying tone continues, waking me further to the point I throw my covers back in the search, and a thunk hits the floor. Hopefully, it didn’t land in the puddle of Thomas’ kids.

“Come here, you piece of shit.” Irritated, I snatch up my phone, pushing the power button to silence its shrieking.

Two more seconds, and I would have heard him say my name like it’s a swear word. Maybe in this replay, I might’ve convinced Daddy to let me take him for a ride. I’d throw my leg over him and slide up and down that Daddy dick, my cum making it glisten in the moonlight.

But I don’t have time to rewrite history, so I throw my legs over my bed, ready to take on the day. My feet hit the carpeted floor as something loudly shatters from the main living space. Please tell me those weren’t the last of our dishes. I don’t want to have to spend my money on paper plates.

“Sounds like Mom’s giving Dad a warm welcome,” I grumble under my breath.

At least I get to escape to work this morning. An added plus is that I’ll be able to cut out of here before catching the brunt of Mom’s wrath for throwing another party. I have an hour before my twelve o’clock shift begins. I could go in early. They should let me clock in if it’s busy .

I yank on my black shorts and rummage through the pile of clean clothes in my basket. The one place I throw all my clean clothes in the room. The one I convince myself that I’ll fold later, but in reality, the pile keeps growing. Grabbing the first white shirt and bra, I throw it on before fixing my hair into a ponytail. Tiny baby hairs frame my face, but there’s no fixing it. The gel I use to flatten them down is in the bathroom past the fight going on. So fuck that. I’ll have to deal with them tickling my forehead all day. I pluck my apron off the peg behind my bedroom door and slide into the hall while shoving my sneakers on.

“I never wanted any of this for the two of you,” Dad yells as I inch into the hall.

“Then you shouldn’t have left! You can’t come back and expect everything to return to normal.” Peeking around the corner, Mom has her arms crossed over her chest with her lips pressed in a tight line. She’s not the one throwing stuff? Nope. Dad’s the one swatting at anything within reach. A glass shattering on the linoleum makes that one less decent piece of crockery in this shithole.

He looks pissed. Her words are the same ones I was thinking when he came back in from running the party off last night. Now, he finally gets to hear what we are all feeling. He left us. What did he expect? He thought he could come back, and everything would be rainbows and unicorn poop? I wish Mom had done better, but this is where we are. This is the shit storm we’re left with.

“What about Swayze? Huh? Did you think about her in all of this?” He throws his hand in the direction of my room, not realizing he’s pointing right at me.

But to answer his question, no. And I wondered why she didn’t every time one of her guy friends snuck into my room. I knew Mom was hurting, but what about me?

Mom focuses her sights on me, and I know what she’s thinking before she even opens her mouth. “You little bitch, did you throw another party last night? I warned you…”

Before she finishes that statement, I sprint out the door, down the gravel path, and through the woods near our trailer park. Once I’m a good enough distance away that I know they won’t come after me, I slow down.

I don’t need to hear Mom’s answer to Dad’s last question. Or maybe I’m too scared to hear it because I’m fairly certain the answer is… I never thought about Swayze. If there’s one thing she’s taught me, it’s how to avoid, and that’s what I’m doing now. I don’t know any other way.

Picturing my mom and dad peacefully sitting around the kitchen table, calmly discussing their problems and parenting issues, has me snickering. There’d be no point anyway. You can’t solve a problem if it’s happened in the past. My kind of problems will never get solved. There’s no turning back time.