This is the last part in The Reluctant Daughter series. There isn't much sex in it, more storyline than anything. I wrote this installment for those of you who messaged me wanting a conclusion. This is it. I won't be writing anymore of this particular genre. I appreciate those of you who have followed the series, it means a lot. I hope you like it. Mahalo.
I smiled, spying our family’s Range Rover moving down the street. “Bye girls,” I called, waving at my friends behind me as my dad pulled up in front of the school. I opened the back, dropping my gym bag and pom-poms in and slamming the trunk closed.
I had barely gotten inside and put on my seatbelt when a high-pitched “Hi Mr. Martin” echoed from out the window. Brittany, a fellow cheerleader, squealed, skipping over to my car like a grade A tramp. Damn I didn’t have time for this.
My dad rolled down the passenger side window. “Hiya Brittany,” he responded, winking at the giggling teen. He smiled, one of those beautiful, bright smiles that makes your heart flutter. Well, at least it made mine, unwillingly of course.
“Your parents coming for you ladies?” he asked, motioning to the other six or so girls sprawled out on the sidewalk next to the car. “I wouldn’t want to leave such a beautiful bunch of girls here alone.”
“Awwww” they cooed, Brittany making an especially exaggerated motion as she pranced back over to the group.
“You’re so sweet.” This time Jennifer was the one flirting, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, sitting on the sidewalk with her legs open and her spanks clearly visible. She attempted to throw what could only have been an ill-executed come hither look at my father. Ick.
“We’re fine Mr. Martin,” another girl, Angela, announced. She wasn’t falling for it, something I was incredibly grateful for. “Our rides should be here any minute. You should take Stephanie home though, she’s been looking kind of sick today.” She threw an apprehensive look my way.
Not wanting him to dwell too much on that last statement and ruin what I had planned, I leaned over my father and shouted goodbyes to the squad as we pulled away from the curb. I glanced over at my dad, he was wearing a simple t-shirt, one of the ones he had gotten as our community’s little league coach. His hair was messy and he had on a pair of drawstring shorts. Obviously he had left the house without paying attention to what he was wearing. It was good thing though, I was hoping he’d be dressed this way.
“How was the game honey?” he asked, taking a right turn to go down the backroads. I gave a silent cheer. Fate couldn’t have been more kind.
“Great dad,” I commented. “We won.” Looking at him from the corner of my eye I carefully began to pull down my spanks, slipping it down my ankles and stuffing it to the side of my seat before he could notice. I had my cheerleading uniform on, a blue ensemble consisting of a fitted crop top and a short pleated skirt. My hair was pulled into a nice ponytail and my bra, spanks and panties had been pulled off in preparation. It was eight ‘o clock at night, the sun almost fully set, just a couple flecks of orange permeating the night sky.
“That’s good,” my dad stated, continuing on our conversation. “A nice rebound win after that complete shut out last week.” The road was decently dark, not too bad, semi-private. From our house to the opposing high school’s campus was a fourty-five minute drive by freeway. With the backroads it would take about an hour to get home.
“I only have one problem,” I announced, my voice husky and dripping sex. I gave a silent prayer this would work.
“What’s that baby?” my dad responded. At this he spared me a look, something he hadn’t really done since I got in the car. With the extra eyeliner and my perky nipples poking through my small top I knew I looked the picture of sexy. To add insult to injury my dad had a particular weakness to me in my cheerleading uniform. Sometimes he’d specifically ask me not to change after a game so he could sneak in later and have his way with me. He loved seeing me knelt down in front of him, my mouth sucking his cock as he ran his hands down my skirt. It was a risqué notion, the thought of forcing such a hot, young, teen onto his dick. And I knew how much my dad loved the taboo.
“I was thinking about you all day.” I announced, reaching for his hand and bringing it into mine. I entwined my fingers with his. “And not clean thoughts either,” I winked.
“Yeah baby?” he asked, looking rather excited at where our conversation was heading. The lump in his pants grew bigger. He leaned forward a little in anticipation.
“Mmmhmmm,” I moaned. Reaching to the side I pulled the lever and pushed the seat down and back, giving my legs more than enough room.
“What are you doing?” He asked, stealing glances at me as I undid my seatbelt and kicked off my shoes.
“I can’t handle it Daddy,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering shut seductively. “I just have to.”
“Have to what sweetheart?” At this his bulge was noticeably extended.
I didn’t respond, just laid back and opened my legs. I bunched the skirt around my waist, placing the soles of my feet flat on the dash and exposing my pussy to both my father and whoever else happened to drive by. Even if this was all for show the taboo nature of my actions were genuinely turning me on, I found wetness pooling inside.
“Steph” my dad hissed. “What are you doing? It’s still light out, people can see.” His gaze darted to the cars around us. We were in a residential neighborhood where the speed limit was only 25 mph. If a car passed by it would definitely be able to see what was going on inside. A hot teenage pussy wet and ready for the taking.
“I can’t help it Daddy,” I moaned, my finger flicking against my sensitive nub. “I’m so hot I need it.” I mewled little sounds of pleasure as I rubbed up and down my slit. I brought my left leg up, resting it atop my dad so that I was open and facing him. “I’m so wet for you Daddy,” I proclaimed, pushing a finger in and swirling it through my folds. “Look at how much pussy juice I’m making.”
“Baby,” he stuttered, staring at my exposed cunt while also trying to focus on the road. “Put it away before someone sees.” His voice grew strained, he licked his lips. “I’ll give you what you want tonight when your mother’s sleeping.”
His words only served to irk me more and I proceeded to fuck myself, plunging two fingers in and groaning with pleasure. I was genuinely wet, my finger sliding against my insides in the most delicious of ways as my eyes rolled back. I removed my leg from my father’s lap and propped both atop the dashboard. Anyone coming towards us would see the whole thing.
My fingers returned to my pussy, my nail gently flicking across my lips, spreading my wetness down my length. “I can’t stop Daddy,” I moaned, “I need it right now. I need your cock right now. I’m aching for all of your daddy dick.”
“Ohh Steph come on baby.” I could hear the indecision in his voice. He wanted it too, underneath his shorts I could tell he was almost at full mast and the beads of sweat forming along his nose let me know he was more than a little tense.
“Just wait a little while,” he begged. “Daddy will give you what you need. Daddy always gives his baby just what she needs.” His voice was husky, his eyes torn between staring at his daughter’s wet pussy and keeping an eye out on the road.
I arched my back from the seat. “Oh gosh,” I screamed, flicking my clit with one hand as I pushed into me with the other. “Oh Dad it feels so good. Fuck. Fuck.” I opened my legs wider, moving faster, two fingers splitting apart my pussy as I plunged into my depths.
“Steph,” my dad reached a hand over, placing it atop my mound. “Let Daddy do it. Let Daddy make you feel good.”
I inwardly grinned as my fingers seized their assault. That was another one of his weaknesses. He didn’t like me pleasuring myself. He wanted the dominance, to be the one to decide when I orgasmed. To see me like this, splayed out before him in my uniform begging for his cock, was driving him insane.
Just as planned.
My dad removed his hand from my pussy, reluctantly placing it back on the steering wheel. “Keep going baby,” I begged, almost pouting. My eyes were closed, giving the impression that I was lost in some type of steamy sexual fantasy. I dramatically breathed a moany sigh, preparing myself to say the words that would ruin my father forever.
“You know how I like it babe.” I screamed. “Come on Mark give it to me.”
Mark. That was the name of the boy in Florida, the boy who my dad had made me recount every detail of our time together. He had hated hearing it, just thinking of me with another man made him angry, yet a sick part of my dad needed to know everything. He needed to know how good Mark was. For him it was a competition. When I had told my dad about our midnight trysts in the sand and Mark’s soft kisses in the moonlight his eyes had gone red. Every time I mentioned him my dad exploded. Imagine how he’d react if he knew I fantasized about a cock other than his own. How would a man so intent on making his daughter’s pussy his own handle knowing he got out performed by an amateur hundreds of miles away.
“Steph,” my dad’s voice was angry now, forceful. I didn’t respond, continued acting as if I was far away at a distant place he couldn’t reach. “Are you thinking of him? Thinking of that boy and his cock.” It took every ounce of willpower not to flinch at his words.
“Give it to me Mark,” I yelled, pumping my hips up into my fingers. “Fuck me, fuck my cunt.” My eyes were still closed.
“FUCKING ASSHOLE!” He shouted, a wild, animal like sound. I jumped then, pulled my fingers out of my pussy and put my feet on the floor. On my face I plastered on a look of confusion, like I had absolutely no idea what was going on with him.
“What’s wrong Dad?” I asked innocently. I pulled my seat back upright, faking concern over his explosive behavior.
“You’re thinking of him,” he snarked, venom lacing his words. His hands shook on the steering wheel and his face glowed a bright red. A vein popped out on his forehead, his whole body tense.
“Sorry Dad,” I lowered my gaze then, reaching over to grab his hand in mine. I suppressed a smile at what I was going to say next.
“Sometimes I just can’t help it.”
That was it. With a feral scream my dad made a sharp right and pulled over to the side of the road. We were on an old farm road, past the residential houses. The only thing around us were a couple street lamps and fences boarding off private property.
“What are you doing,” I asked. He had wrenched his hand away from mine, using both to park the car as close to the fence as possible. I filled my expression with worry, acting as if I was scared and confused at what was going on.
“Not him,” my dad huffed. He pulled down on the lever, moving back his seat to make more leg room. “Not him and his cock.” He pushed up his hips and slid off his shorts, taking his underwear with it. His body was still tense, his face red and his voice gruff.
“Daddy,” I asked, timid and weak.
“Fuck no baby,” he mumbled. Then he looked up, his eyes meeting mine but still managing to see past me. “Pull your seat down,” he commanded.
I obeyed, making my fingers tremble as I did so.
“Lie back.” That was all he said, and hesitantly I did just that.
“I’m sorry Daddy,” I cried, screwing my face together in mock tears. “I’m sorry I made you upset.”
“Baby,” he whispered, the trance he was in broke just a little. His eyes softened.
I sniffled, making my chest heave with exaggerated breaths. “I’m sorry I think about him Dad. I just can’t help but think about his…thick…big… cock.” I enunciated every word, moaning a little bit as it left my mouth.
My dad’s face contorted once again in rage. He pushed up, climbing over the middle counsel and pushing his body over mine. His hand shoved up my skirt, exposing my wetness to his eyes.
“Fuck him and his cock,” my dad whispered. His dick flapped against my entrance. “Fuck. Fuck.” He propped himself over me, brushing my hair out of my eyes so our gazes could lock. “Fuck him.” He pushed then, ramming all ten inches of himself deep into my hole. His hips slammed against mine.
“Feel it baby,” he groaned. “Feel daddy’s cock deep inside you.”
“I feel it,” I announced, gasping at the pressure the angle caused within me. Once again I closed my eyes. I wrapped my arms around his back, going underneath his shirt to touch his skin. “Fuck me Mark.”
Maybe I was overdoing it, cause at the sound of his name my dad screamed. He brought is hand to my face, clenching my cheeks together, hurting me with the strength of his grip. “Steph,” he growled, his touch was strong, I squirmed in his grasp. “This is daddy’s cock. Daddy’s cock is making you feel this good.” He eased his grasp, instead pushing my head down so that I could see him going in. His thick, red organ slithering into my depths. He pushed in deep, grinding his hips into mine as he lodged his cock as far as it could into me. “You feel that baby. You feel that fullness. That’s all daddy. All daddy.” He pulled out, looking into my eyes.
I watched, my body tensing in preparation. He slowly pulled out, so that the tip of him just barely grazed my outer lips. “Feel my love.” He announced, and then he pushed into me again, gyrating his hips and hitting my g-spot perfectly. He went slow; long, deep strokes that stoked the fire in my belly. His eyes locked into mine as our bodies molded together. I arched my back, spreading my legs, desperate to feel his love for me.
This hadn’t been what I wanted. I wanted him to take my forcefully, without abandonment. I wanted him to make a mistake, to fuck me in a neighborhood where people could hear. What we were doing now, in the middle of nowhere, was making love. My dad was pushing into me with tenderness, showing me how he could bring me pleasure. Everything was wrong.
“Close your eyes baby,” he announced. “Feel daddy move inside you.” My eyes shut, low growls building in my chest as a beautiful feeling blossomed in my pussy. I could feel it. I felt his powerful strokes, his thick meat pushing, prodding and loving every inch of my body. I could hear his heartbeat, feel his warm breath on my neck. I felt his hand lovingly grope my body, feeling my curves. He wasn’t being forceful he was taking his time because as much as I knew his weaknesses he knew mine.
I wanted to be loved.
I was almost there. An orgasm was approaching steadily, the kind that washes over you and leaves you breathless with contentment. Our hips moved together, both of us yearning for completion.
A loud thumping scared us out of our temporary paradise. My eyes burst open, looking out the window as a bright light blinded me in the eyes. My dad buried his face in my chest.
“Get a move on you damn teenagers,” a voice commanded. I brought my hands up to shield my vision, trying to find a face to match the voice. Suddenly the light moved, taking my heart with it.
It was a cop.
“I know the Wolverines won the game but this sure aint no way to celebrate. Get yourselves together and get a move on.” He was an old man, probably around 60 or so. He had a slight beer gut and a peppered mustache. His car was parked about fifteen feet in front of ours, explaining why we hadn’t noticed the lights, my eyes had been closed, and my dad’s eyes, like always, had been watching my face as he fucked me.
“Don’t you hear me boy. Get a move on.” He tapped the flashlight against the window, his patience wearing thin.
My dad didn’t move, really he couldn’t. If the cop saw his face he would know. I was in my cheerleading outfit and even if he looked young my dad didn’t look twenty years old. Either way we were screwed. His cock had gone limp within me.
“That’s it,” the officer announced. “Get out with your hands on your head.” His voice was no nonsense.
My dad groaned and pulled out, leaning over and whispering in my ear. “I love you Steph.”
The cop opened the door, he had his weapon drawn, pointed at my father who was moving as slow as he could, trying to keep his face hidden from view. He slid off of me so that he was facing the car and his feet were planted on the ground. His hands were on his head, his flaccid penis swinging in my view. He paused.
“Turn around son.”
My dad did, slowly turning to face his fate, his shoulders straight and his back rigid. I cringed. This is what I had wanted right? I wanted my dad to get caught. I wanted this to end.
But my dad wasn’t doing anything I expected him to. He had made love to me just now. He had whispered his love gently, probably one of the last things he would ever say to me. Of all the things he could’ve said at that moment, warning me to be quiet or get dressed or shut my mouth; my dad had said he loved me. Instead of cowering under the pressure he was facing his fate as a man accepting of his actions.
I thought back then. I thought of all the times my dad had held my close, all the times we had laughed and snuggled under the covers. All the small pecks of kisses we exchanged every morning that had nothing to do with sex but was nonetheless a vital part of our relationship. I thought of waking up in his arms. I thought of how I loved watching my dads eyes when I came down the stairs dressed up. How no matter how hard he tried to hide his smile it always broke through, his eyes giving him away before a single word could be spoken.
I looked at him then. I saw the first man who I had ever loved, and the first man who had ever loved me. Because that was the truth, even after all the tears and heartbreak, the betrayal and agony, the lies and mistakes, my dad loved me. And to him, that love was never anything to be ashamed of. For years I had been trying to earn his love, trying to grab it and store it. The truth was I had always had it.
“What the…!” the cop proclaimed, his eyes narrowing as he did a one over of my father. “How old are you sir?” The cop’s voice commanded, his tone had gone hard, obviously he wasn’t dealing with teenagers here.
“47, officer.” My father announced, his voice indignant and unwavering.
“My gosh,” the cop was reeling. “You too honey,” he announced, suddenly remembering me as I cowered in my seat. He holstered his weapon, motioning for me to get up. “Sit up darling.” I moved my legs, smoothing down my skirt to cover myself. My eyes planted on the ground, and in that moment I knew what I had to do. Damn it all.
“How old are you?” The flashlight shone in my face.
“18,” I declared proudly, lifting my head to meet his gaze.
“Does your father know about this?” The officer asked, clearly taken aback at the age difference of us two lovers.
“Yes sir he knows.” My words were sweet and light. I forced any trace of anger or sadness from my face.
“I doubt that honey. Aint no father in his right mind let his daughter go around with a man more than twice her age.” The flashlight shone on my father once again. “You’re a piece of work,” the cop spat. My dad didn’t flinch.
“No sir,” I announced, twisting my face into a glorified pout. “You got it all wrong. I’m an adult and my dad doesn’t get any say in who I date. Me and Dave are in love. You see.” I always wore a ring on my right hand, a simple gold band my father had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday. I don’t know why but I could never take it off, even when I hated my dad I still wore it.
I stuck my hand out to the show the officer. “I don’t wear it on my left hand because I don’t want rumors spreading around school but once I graduate Dave and I are going to drive on over to Vegas and get ourselves married.” I squealed, doing my best to appear excited over the news.
At this my dad attempted to interject but a swift look from the officer silenced him. “Hands above your head Sonny, don’t make me restrain you.” My father obeyed, knotting both hands in his hair and letting his hardened mask fall into place once again.
The cop stared at me, his eyes losing some of their harshness. “That still don’t excuse what you two were doing here in my town at this time of night.” His gaze swept over us both.
“I know officer,” I puffed out in resignation. “But my dad won’t let me see Dave…” Oh gosh the irony behind my words did not fail to go unnoticed…”Said he’ll kick me out of the house and hurt Dave if I keep being with. But we’re in love, and that’s something that just can’t be helped.” At this I threw a glance at my father. We both knew the last part to be true. Our love was a love that simply couldn’t be helped. Fuck.
I turned my attention back to the officer. “We just got a little carried away,” I finished.
“If I don’t say,” the cop huffed, laughing a little at my story. “Don’t reckon I’d do anything different than your Papa if it was my daughter.”
He lifted the flashlight to look into my dad’s face. “Maybe this embarrassment of having all your niblets out and about…” at that he shone the flashlight at my dad’s aforementioned niblets. “…will teach you some common sense. Going around with a girl of her age is just wrong.”
My dad’s hardened gaze broke, and I saw him give the cop that same look he had given me the first night we were together. It was filled with shame yet overridden with a determined and unwavering love. “I can’t help it officer,” he sighed, his hands still poised above his head. “I love her.”
“Well my gosh, what is this world coming to? ” The cop exclaimed. He moved the flashlight between us. “Get out of here both of you. The only reason I’m letting you go is because I don’t want her Papa beating you up.”
My heart rose. “Thank you officer,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands. “What’s your name?” I asked, determined to put the icing on the cake.
“Michael Grehner,” he responded, giving me a curious look.
“Well that’s great,” I smiled at my father, reaching over for his clothes and tossing it to him. “We’ll have to remember the generosity of one Michael Grehner. Won’t we Dave?”
My dad had pulled on his shorts and was now facing me in the car, his back towards the cop. He patted my knee reassuringly. “Oh course Chipmunk” he sighed. He began to walk around to the other side of the car, throwing his shirt on above his head as he did.
“Get out of here you fools,” the cop complained, looking mainly at me as he shut my door. “You be careful now, ya here?” He cautioned, leaning forward and whispering that last bit.
“I will sir.” I smiled, not entirely sure what that meant for my father and I.
“I hope you’re right sweetie,” he whispered, his eyes too revealing, filled with a little bit too much sadness, as if he had some hidden heartbreak himself. We all bore our scars. My dad drove off then, and I watched the mirror as Michael Greener grew smaller and smaller.
After what could’ve only been two minutes my dad exhaled loudly.“Woah Steph,” he laughed dad, “that was a close one, makes me hard just thinking about what almost happened.” I took a glance down at his pants, unsurprised to find a bulge already forming.
“That’s just the thing Dad,” I began, suddenly feeling the need to divulge my feelings. I fidgeted with my hands in my lap before placing one on his. “All the things I just said right there, they’ll never be true.”
I forced back what was bound to be an emotional outburst. “We’ll never get married,” I stated bluntly, turning to look at his face. “We’ll never have kids. I’ll never completely be yours. All these things that come out of a normal relationship will never happen with us.” I released my father’s hand and brought my feet up onto the chair, cuddling into a ball and wrapping my arms around my legs.
“I love you,” I whispered, more to myself than him. “I love you and you doing this to us kills me everyday.”
My dad said nothing, the rest of our ride silent as we both contemplated our actions. We could’ve gotten caught today, heck I had purposely made it so that we would get caught, but still I knew how close we had come to permanent separation. The fact of the matter was that I didn’t want this to end. I was a finicky teenager constantly changing my mind and I hated that my father made me into this. Outside of my home I was the girl who made firm decisions and stuck by them. With my dad it seemed everything about me was different. I was moody, prone to making rash decisions, and always on edge. He was bad for me, and knowing that did nothing to lessen my love for him.
When we had finally reached home I darted into the house. Dropping my stuff unceremoniously by the door, I headed towards the fridge. I needed a beer, or some vodka. I just needed alcohol.
Thankfully I found a half-filled bottle of rum pushed in the back of the freezer. I tugged it out, twisted off the cap and took a swig, taking another before I finally made my way to the dining room table. My cheerleading uniform was sloppily put on and I just knew my hair looked ridiculous. Still, none of that seemed to matter as I took a seat. There were other things I had done of this very table, things with a man I couldn’t bear to think about. I gulped another mouthful.
I didn’t bother turning on the lights, instead appreciating the darkness and its ability to cloak my shame. In my hasty drinking some of the alcohol had begun to run down my throat, now dripping its way down to my breasts.
“Drinking?” The lights turned on and I squinted, bringing a hand up to shield my eyes. My dad stood there, leaning casually against the door frame from the kitchen to the dining room, a small frown on his face. His hair perfectly touseled. Dammit, he looked good.
“Steph you know you don’t do that,” he chided.
“Yeah well…” I began, deciding that I hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol. I took another gulp, this one bigger and longer. “Seemed like as good a time as any to start.” I ran my hands along the bottle’s rim, lightly tracing the outline. My thoughts grew darker with each sip and a part of me still couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. “Let’s be honest Dad,” I laughed. “You really don’t know what I do when you’re not around.”
“Not this baby,” he cautioned, and before I could protest he tore the bottle from my hands, reaching across the table for the cap and screwing it shut. “You’re not some middle-aged drunk, you’re eighteen years old. You don’t turn to alcohol to forget your problems.”
“Well what do I turn to then?” I yelled back. My blood was rushing now, I felt a slight buzz, not incredible, but enough to give me courage. “Do I turn to you? Do I turn to my ever-loving father to help me sort out my life?” My dad just stared back at me, holding the bottle in his hands.
“And who the fuck do you think you are?!” I continued, the mere sight of him managing to make me angry. “You want to act like a father figure now, telling me not to drink? The things you’ve done to me you should be glad I don’t do drugs! Fucking hypocritical asshole!” I reached over, taking the bottle from him once again.
“Steph,” he cautioned, I saw his brows furrow in anger, his neck muscles flexed. “I am still your father. My house, my rules. Stop being such a brat.” He reached for the bottle and I, in a sudden outburst of anger, stood up, holding the glass behind my head and out of his grasp.
“I’m a brat?!” I asked, using my other free hand to keep him away. I held the bottle out of his reach, my voice piercing the night. “I’ve let you do things to me for years! I’ve let you touch and suck and fuck every inch of my body and I never told anyone. Not a single fucking soul!” I gripped the bottle and flung it across the room, pleased when it broke against the wall.
“You see that!?” I pointed, shoving my hand in the direction of the glass. “That’s me. That’s always been me. Broken in a million fucking pieces. Exposed. Used.” My eyes welled up and I pushed back the sobs building in my throat. “Do you see me Dad?” I yelled. I moved forward and grabbed his head between my two hands, forcing his eyes to look into mine. “Do you see what you’ve done to me? What you’re turning me into?”
I wretched my hands away, running it through my hair and pacing the room. “I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to be the idiotic girl who can never make up her mind.” I stopped to look at him then. He hadn’t moved much, his eyes trained on the spot the bottle had hit. “I wanted us to be caught today.” At the revelation his eyes snapped to mine. “I wanted someone to find us, and when they did I was going to yell rape and send your sorry ass to jail. I was going to do it. I was.” I was rambling now, my thoughts incoherent. It was the truth wasn’t it? That I really would’ve sent my father to jail?
“Steph,” he broke his silence, stretching out to me as he took a couple steps forward.
“No!” I cried, flinching back. “It’s the truth. I wanted this to end. I wanted it to end.” He was at my side now, his arms wrapped around my body. “I wanted it. I did. I did.” Sobs were wracking my body, I couldn’t see past my tears.
“I did.” I proclaimed, pounding my hands against his chest. “I wanted this to end.” My knees gave out then but instead of falling my father held me up, keeping me pressed against him.
“I wanted this to end.” I whispered. “I did.”
We stood there for minutes, for hours. For eternity it seemed. He held me as my sobs eased, his hand rubbing my back.
“I want out Dad,” I released, saying into the open air a statement I knew would break this house. “I can’t do this. I need out.”
“Steph,” my dad comforted, he pushed me away, keeping me at arms distance, his hands gripping my shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I’m sorry for letting my jealously get the best of me, I’m sorry for that time.” I knew instantly what time he was referring to, the time in the garage. “This has been my fault. But you know what honey?” At this his eyes filled with hope. “I can do better. I’ll control myself, let you get a boyfriend, let you live your life. And then only when you’re at home we can be together. We can do this, be together when we can and apart when we can’t.”
“No.” I shook my head. “We can’t. The last time I was away was only for a month and look how well that turned out. We need to just stop it.” I wiped at my face and looked up and my father. My heart clenched. “This has to end,” I whispered. I brought my hand up to touch his cheek. He rested his head in my palm.
“I can’t,” he sighed. “This will never end.” And at that he gripped my back tighter, a boner already forming against my leg.
