Coming Home Ch. 04

"Do you like that?" he challenged, his hands gripping her tight. "Do you like being... shit, I can't..."

"Say it," she gasped. "Call me a whore, God, you can say anything you want, fuck..." her words collapsed into a high-pitched whimper as he thrust particularly deep.

"Do you like getting fucked by your father, you little tramp?" he whispered savagely, the hesitancy leaving his voice now.

"God, yes, Daddy, no, oh fuck... I'm sorry..." a blinding orgasm threw her play into confusion; was she still pretending she was being punished? A moment later, it no longer mattered -- he picked up speed, his words losing all meaning, fading away as she came once, then again, her whole body shuddering. She went limp in his grasp, turning her head to look back at him. At the last moment, he pulled out and came on her back, a spray of warm droplets against her skin.

"Oh my God," she breathed, and grinned at him helplessly as the last of his orgasm quaked through him. She could feel his hand quivering on her hip, even as his seed began to dribble a little down her bare sides.

His pants had pooled comically around his ankles in their haste, and now he pulled them up, breathing heavily. He collapsed onto the bed next to her, where she lay unmoving, her whole body still tingling.

"That was..." she said.

"Yes," he said, and then he did meet her eyes, and she didn't see any more doubt or shame or anger, but just happiness -- the happiness she'd come here to give him.

She brushed moist hair back from her eyes. "Did you, um... like that? Playing around like that?"

He nodded, smiling a little, clearly just slightly embarrassed. "It surprised me. I didn't think you were..."

"Yeah," she grinned. "I didn't think I was either. But you were okay with it?"

"Oh, I think so," he said casually, and they both laughed.

"Me too," she said. "I wouldn't mind doing it again, maybe."

"We'll see," he said, that familiar parental note creeping back into his voice.

The tension that had been driven out of them soon returned, and her father fetched an old shirt from the floor and cleaned off her back with it, tossing it overhand into the corner hamper when he was done. She retrieved her sweater and shrugged it back on, buttoning it up once more. While he straightened up, she ducked into the tiny adjacent bathroom and tried in vain to fix her hair. It was pretty well hopeless -- fortunately, it had not been that neat to begin with.

"I didn't, you know," he told her when she stepped out of the bathroom.

She blinked, confused. "Didn't what?"

"Think of you like that. Or of your sister like that. Not before... last summer."

She smiled. "Never?" she asked. "Never ever?"

He rubbed his chin with one hand. "Nothing I'd ever admit to. I think I'll just chalk it all up to your moral turpitude."

"My what?" she said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

He smiled. "It means you're a corrupting influence."

"That's the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me," she said, and ran a finger down the center of his chest. "So, what about Kim?"

"What about her? Hopefully she slept right through that."

"No, I mean... did you ever think about her? The way you thought about me?"

He winced good-naturedly. "Jesus, Kerri, come on."

"I'm just curious. You seemed to like it when I talked about the two of us..."

"That was talk."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't get any funny ideas," he warned.

She grinned at him. "Nothing I'd ever admit to," she said.