tagIncest/TabooA Daughter's Love Ch. 03

A Daughter's Love Ch. 03

byk_lancelot©

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement!! Knowing people are enjoying this story, and actually want more, is truly inspiring!! It makes me want to keep going, to keep exploring. I have lots of ideas for this story, so hopefully I'll be able to get to them all! Again, thank you so much! Now, back to the story...

Xoxo


*****

"I think I'm underdressed."

"Don't be ridiculous. You look beautiful, as always."

The compliment made her blush, but it didn't fully ease her self-consciousness. All the women in the fancy restaurant were wearing expensive dresses and jewels worth more than her childhood home. The men, like Daddy, were wearing suits or, at the very least, a nice dress shirt. Almost all of the people seated were middle-aged or older.

He slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her body closer to hers. God dammit, all he had to do was touch her and she was horny all over again. Although, that probably had to do with the very recent, very vivid memory of the office 'incident'.

Emma smoothed her hands over her semi-wrinkled blouse. The waiter led them to a table, a bit away from the crowd so they could have some semblance of privacy. "When you said we were going to get lunch, I thought you meant, like, McDonalds or something," she whispered to him.

"McDonalds?" he barked a laugh. "God, I can't remember the last time I had McDonalds." Emma didn't have a hard time believing it. With the shape he was in, he didn't seem like the fast-food type. He kissed the side of her head, "Only the best for my girl."

He winked at her as he let go, holding out her chair for her. Emma glanced up at him as she sat, the chair cold against her thighs. She wasn't wearing anything underneath her skirt. Her panties were still in his office; they'd dried stiffly after being so wet, so she'd went without them. She pressed her knees together, wishing she could be as calm and collected as Daddy.

The memory of his fingers inside her made her ache. She wanted to kiss him again. Emma imagined running her hands over his bare chest, or her nails scraping down his back.

"I'd love to know what you're thinking right now," he said with a smirk. He sat across from her, giving her his full attention.

She reached her hand over the table, clutching his fingers in hers. "I'm thinking about what we just did," she said under her breath.

He looked at their hands, smiling to himself. "Do you regret it?" He sounded almost sad. His thumb rubbed lazily over the back of her hand.

Emma shifted in her seat. Did she regret it? Part of her knew she should, and maybe she would later, but now? "No," she shook her head. Her gaze fixed on the plate in front of her. "I wasn't expecting it to happen, not so quickly... But I feel so safe with you. I know you'd never hurt me. And... and..." She bit her lip, not knowing what to say, much less how to say it.

He squeezed her hand. "And what?" The waiter brought two glasses of wine, interrupting them. They waited until he was gone to speak again. "You're so adorable," he laughed. "I love how easy you blush. And when you bite your lip?" He leaned forward, gripping her hand until she looked up at him. He stared at her mouth. He grinned, sitting back and taking a sip of wine. "I can't tell you how happy I am that today happened. I've wanted you since the moment we met."

"R-really?" she stammered.

He shrugged a shoulder, looking away as if to study the restaurant. "I never knew I had a daughter. I didn't think I'd ever be a father." He let go of her hand. "I didn't mean for this to happen, Emma. When your mother called me, I pictured you as some bratty kid who would make my life a living hell." He shot her a crooked grin, "I had no clue what I was getting into, and I had no idea what to expect."

She picked up the wine glass, swirling the red liquid absently. They'd never talked about this before. She hadn't thought they ever would. "Why did you take me in? What if Mom had been lying? Did you believe her right away?"

He sighed heavily, looking away again. He wasn't smiling anymore. "I didn't believe her at first. But she wasn't asking for any money. She made a very convincing argument."

Suddenly, Emma wasn't sure she wanted to have this conversation.

"I took you in because, although I'd never thought about having kids before, I thought I owed you. I wasn't there for your childhood. I wasn't there for any of it." Finally, he looked at her again. Something in her chest melted. She took a long sip of wine. He smiled at that. "And then I saw you." He shifted, leaning his elbows against the table and intertwining his fingers. "You looked so innocent, so beautiful, and so lonely. Immediately, I wanted to protect you. I wanted to hold you and cherish you."

"What... what made you-?"

"I don't know. I can't pinpoint it. I think it was that night you came home drunk, do you remember? I was sitting in the kitchen, and then you came in and started taking your clothes off."

Emma went beet red.

"I started thinking about you, about the things I wanted to do with you-"

"Maybe we should have this conversation in private," she said quickly, glancing around.

He chuckled at her panic. He stood, gesturing to the waiter. "Come with me." He took her hand, tugging her along. The waiter nodded to him, pointing to the right.

"Where are we going?" Emma clumsily tried to keep up.

"Somewhere private."

For a second, she thought they were going into the kitchen. But then he led her into a closed-off booth. The lighting was dim and warm. The table was set, though there was no food or drink. It looked like the perfect first date.

Wait. Was that what this was? The thought of going on a date with him made her stumble. She nearly tripped over her own two feet, but he steadied her with an arm around her waist. He sat down, moving the chair further from the table. "Sit on my lap."

"Uh, what about-"

"It's okay, we don't have to hide here. Now, sit on my lap."

Warily, she obeyed. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. He rested his other hand on her thigh. "Didn't you have any doubts?" she asked anxiously. "I tried so hard to ignore how I feel..." Even now, she struggled not to reach out and touch him - or worse, turn around and straddle him.

"Of course. Maybe I would've stood a chance if I didn't have to see you every day." His fingers trailed up her thigh. Emma squirmed, glancing at the slim doorway. "I couldn't ignore how much I wanted you," he murmured against her neck. His gentle kiss made her shiver. "I realized you're everything I've ever wanted." His fingers circled lazily, slowly creeping closer and closer to the wetness between her legs.

"Besides," he shifted so he could look at her face, "who could take care of you better than your daddy? Who could possibly love you more than I do?"

She slid an arm around his neck. "You love me? You really love me?" Her breath hitched under the influence of his touch.

He smiled. "I love you, baby girl." He pressed her forward, catching her mouth on his. Emma fell into him, her mind racing and her heart a melted mess. It wasn't a parent telling his child that he cared about her - no, this was different. This was a different kind of love entirely. The kind of love that made her heart pound and gave life to butterflies in her stomach. The kind of love that could easily consume her. And he loved her. He'd said it so sincerely, with so much pure honesty in his voice and expression, that it'd brought tears to her eyes.

The tip of his finger stroked her slit. He bit her lower lip. "And I love how wet you are." His voice was a low, possessive rumble.

Her fingers knotted in his hair as she kissed him, unwilling to let go.

He kept running his fingers up and down her slit, so lightly his touch was more of a hover than anything, but it was driving her mad. She pulled back, frustrated and dizzy at the same time. "Daddy," she glared at him impatiently.

He laughed, "Do you want something?"

Feeling bold, she dropped one hand, placing it right on his hardened cock. He inhaled a short, sharp breath. When things got heated like this, when she was so desperate for him that she couldn't even think clearly, it was easy to forget any embarrassment or shame (or dignity). Emma kissed his neck, biting his earlobe as she whispered, "I want you inside me, Daddy."

He groaned, swearing. "Keep that up and we'll both be in trouble." He moved his hand away from her pussy, placing it near her hip instead.

Emma moved her fingers over his cock, running feather-light kisses over his neck. "Don't you want me, Daddy?" she whispered hoarsely, spreading her legs a little wider. She kissed his jaw, slowly moving back to his lips.

"Oh, you are a brat," he grunted, placing his hands on her waist. "This may be private, but it's not that private."

She kissed him passionately, trying to change his mind even though he was one hundred percent right. She loved kissing him. Emma couldn't imagine ever going another day without kissing him.

He swore, gripping her tightly only to push her off. He made sure she didn't fall on her ass, at least. "Okay, little girl, that's enough." He ran his hand over his face, leaning back heavily in his seat. Emma stood between his legs. Daringly, she placed her hands on his knees, pushing further up. He grabbed her wrists, holding them together.

The throbbing between her legs didn't go away, it only intensified.

He fixed her with a stern look, his grip tight and unrelenting. "Go sit down," he growled.

"Why?" The word came out in a pouty whine, but she didn't really care.

"Because when I fuck you for the first time, it won't be in a place where we'll have to be quiet, got it? I want to hear all your delicious moans." He yanked her closer, until their faces were inches apart. "I want to hear you scream for me."

She heard footsteps coming closer. With company fast approaching, and the seriousness of his voice and glare, Emma was forced to retreat. She sat down. Emma didn't know what to do with herself. She felt like she was being punished.

Never in her life had she been so horny.

God, she wanted him so badly. She thought of the story she'd read online, and it was only now that she realized how accurate it was. There was nothing she wanted more at the moment than her daddy's cock inside her.

--

Lunch was a short affair. They talked, but there wasn't much life in their conversations, considering what they both were really thinking. It felt like she'd only been with Daddy for five minutes before they were leaving.

A car was waiting for them outside. Daddy opened the door for her, smacking her ass as she climbed in. A quick shriek of surprise shot out of her.

Emma scooted over, expecting him to sit next to her. Her bag was waiting for her inside. He closed the door, leaning through the open window. He gestured for her to come closer with a curl of his finger.

Heat coursed through her when he ran the back of his knuckles lightly down the side of her face. "I'll see you at home," he promised darkly, his intense gaze devouring her face.

Emma licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. "We don't have to be quiet at home," she whispered hopefully.

A muscle in his jaw feathered. He didn't say anything, but he gave her one last, hungry, frustrated kiss before sending her off.

It was only after they were driving that Emma remembered she wasn't alone in the car. She glanced awkwardly up to the driver, finding it was the same guy who'd dropped her off at Daddy's work. He met her gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a curt nod.

Emma didn't know what to make of that. Was it just a coincidence, and he hadn't seen anything at all? Or was he trying to tell her it was okay, that he wouldn't tell anyone?

Daddy wouldn't do anything to put them in danger. He knew there was a driver. Surely, that meant he trusted the man. She didn't have anything to worry about. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Emma tried to relax, but it was impossible. She kept fidgeting, unable to sit still. She practically ran to the front door when the car pulled up to the house. The driver didn't leave until she was inside.

Emma sank against the door, slipping down until her ass hit the floor.

Her hand slipped under her skirt, her fingers pushing as deep inside herself as they could go. She pressed back against the door, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. She'd been so wet - and still was - that her inner thighs were sticky and damp. "Oh god," she breathed, clenching her jaw.

It was a miracle that she'd lasted so long.

The memory of his tongue on her clit was so fresh that it was easy to latch onto. It was probably the fastest orgasm she'd ever had in all her life. She cried out, not caring to be quiet. Her muscles tensed, her legs twitching. Shudders claimed her body as she came all over her hand.

Emma sagged against the door, opening her eyes to the dark emptiness of the house. How long would it be until he was home?

Emma wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them close and resting her forehead on her knees. "What the hell am I doing?" she muttered weakly. Her resistance was laughable. She'd tried to fight it, she'd tried to push past it, but as soon as he'd kissed her she'd melted. Her lust for him was overwhelming.

What was wrong with her? Was there something messed up in her head? Was she mentally unhinged?

Maybe she needed help.

Maybe she should leave.

Maybe the only way she could resist the temptation was to avoid it at all costs.

But Emma didn't want to leave, not really, and it was that that scared her most of all. The thought of running from him, of never seeing him again, left such an unimaginable pain in her chest that it was like a sharp knife twisting in her heart.

All she wanted was her daddy.

Emma hunched her shoulders. A few silent tears fell down her cheeks, and that insignificant leak in the dam burst into an all-out flood. She couldn't stop. Huge, gasping sobs ripped through her. She choked on her tears.

Emma sobbed miserably, painfully, until there was nothing left in her.

A heavy, depressing exhaustion took over her.

Emma rolled over onto her knees. Hiccupping, she crawled forwards until she reached the kitchen. She fumbled for the edge of the counter, gripping it as she clumsily clambered to her feet. Her knees wobbled uncertainly under her own weight.

She didn't trust herself to make it upstairs. Even if she did, whose room would she go to? Part of her longed to curl up in his sheets, to inhale the smell of him and allow herself to be comforted by it.

Emma stumbled into the living room, falling onto the leather couch. There was no blanket within reach, and she didn't have the energy to go get one. Emma curled in on herself, ashamed by the wetness between her legs and clinging to her thighs. She covered her face with her hands, blocking out her surroundings entirely.

She'd thought she didn't have any tears left.

She was wrong.

Emma cried herself to sleep, her heart hurting more than it ever had before.

She was so painfully confused. Why did it have to be wrong? Why was she like this? She didn't know what to do. How could she put a stop to something that felt so good? Her want for him was stronger than any other emotion she'd ever experienced. Maybe she could've shut it down, if she'd really wanted to. But, the truth was, she didn't. She didn't want to stop. She didn't want to leave him, or to tell him no.

Emma wished he was there, even if he was half of the problem. She longed for him to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. She fell asleep, dreaming of him kissing her so gently and whispering how much he loved her.

--

The loud, impatient knocking thundered through the silence. Emma's eyes snapped open, a dose of fear and confusion lurching through her. She sat up so quickly she nearly fell off the couch.

What was she doing on the couch?

She blinked, rubbing her hands over her face. Now she remembered. The knocking kept going, beating in time to the pounding in her head. Emma swung her legs off the couch, teetering as she stood. Dizziness pulsed through her, but it passed after a moment.

Emma made her way to the front door, feeling like shit. The knocking finally stopped when she unlocked the door. She squinted against the light as she pulled it open.

If it wasn't for her sluggishness, she would have slammed the door in his face.

"Hi, Em." He glanced down sheepishly at his shoes. Jeremy looked the same as always - slicked back, brown hair, stupid dopey smile, and brown eyes that always seemed just a bit glazed over. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly like he was ashamed. He looked at her quickly, then looked away.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Each word was short and hard, spat out through gritted teeth.

"I just want to talk."

"I don't understand, how are you here?" He looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. Emma had the door handle in a death grip. "I mean, how do you know where I live? You've never been here before, and I'm pretty damned sure I never gave you the address."

"Look, can I come in? Please?"

"No."

She started to close the door, but he managed to wedge himself in before she could. She tried to fight him, but he was stronger than she was.

He held up his hands defensively, flashing a quick smile. "I just want to talk! Honest! C'mon Em, just hear me out!"

He moved out of the way as she tried to hit his arm. She wanted to hit his face, but the thought of pissing him off kind of terrified her. "I don't want to hear you out," she growled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I don't want you here. Get out." She tried to open the door, but he slammed his hand against it, keeping it shut.

"Emma, baby, come on!"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, filled with such a sudden fury that she didn't know what to do with it.

He blinked stupidly. "What? Your name? What else am I supposed to call you?"

"You're an idiot."

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened. I really am."

"You mean when you hit me?" she challenged icily.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Yeah... I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. Are you - are you alright?" He shifted restlessly. Emma glared at him. She didn't answer. He forced a tight smile, and then, arrogantly, he walked further into the house. He turned the lights on, whistling at the kitchen on one side, the living room on the other, and the wide hall in-between. "Holy shit, you live in a mansion. A fucking mansion! This is like one of those houses you see on reality TV. No, no, even better! Like the kind of house you see in movies or some shit, you know, owned by the billionaire? By the billionaire who's also a spy! This is badass." He ran into the living room like a little boy on Christmas, rushing to find his presents.

"Stop it! Jeremy!"

He stopped, turning in a circle. "Dude, where's the TV? Don't tell me you don't have a TV." He frowned at the furniture and the tasteful art on the walls.

Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "It's not in here. It's-"

"Oh my god!! Are you shitting me?" He ran up to her, not noticing her flinch. He grabbed her arms, his grip making her heart pound in fear. "Are you telling me there's an entertainment room? Seriously?" To her great relief, he let her go. He spun around, laughing. "This is fantastic. Can you imagine the parties you could have?"

"I'm not throwing any parties, Jeremy."

"Clearly."

Reluctantly, she followed him into the kitchen. She hated him being there. Emma found herself looking at the counter, where'd she sat while Daddy had cleaned her up after Jeremy had hit her. It was there, right in that spot, where she'd first really wanted him sexually, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself.

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