Daddy's Girl Pt. 01

01.

Secrets

Bree was sure she'd be friends with Jenny Meyer forever. They'd met in grade school, when Bree was a foster kid and first came to live with the Meyers. The girls had grown up together, played soccer together; after the Meyer family adopted Bree, the girls became closer still, gossiping about boys together, even went to the same college. They'd tried out the same sorority together, and when Bree didn't make the cut, Jenny dropped out. They had similar tastes in music, in movies, in so many things; in so many ways, they were two peas in a pod. The girls had their differences, though: while Jenny hit puberty and had a growth spurt in middle school, Bree never did. Jenny was skinny, pale and athletic. Bree managed to stay skinny, but her Latin genes had condemned her to a life of asking strangers for help with tall shelves in grocery aisles.

Tomorrow, they were going on a trip together to visit Jenny's new boyfriend. So that night, they were enjoying one last night to themselves at the Meyer house on the coast, dining on the remnants of Chinese food. They weren't the only ones at home: Derek, the girls' father, had welcomed them in. Bree had known Derek forever, and always found her adopted father's presence comforting, somehow. He was older now, but still handsome, someone Bree had always admired and cared for, even loved as a surrogate father figure since her own parents were never in the picture. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him much for months, so that night was a good chance to make up for lost time.

"You girls want another beer?" he asked.

"Yes sir, thank you," Bree said, always the more-respectful of the pair. At least she knew not to make an age joke: Bree was the much-shorter and younger-looking of the girls, which got her plenty of funny looks at college.

"Thanks Dad," Jenny said. She reached up to kiss Derek's cheek before he went back into the kitchen, carrying a trio of empty glasses and a little smile on his face.

"I'm glad we came home tonight," Bree said.

"At least Mom's not around to ruin the fun. Dad's always been more fun to be around." Jenny grinned.

Bree liked Jenny's dad; technically, he was Bree's as well, even though they didn't look anything alike. Rather than answer, she picked at the rest of the beef and broccoli. "What time did you want to head out tomorrow morning?"

"'Morning?'" Jenny laughed. "Not a chance. I'm getting drunk tonight and sleeping it off for as long as it takes. We deserve to spoil ourselves that much, don't we?"

"Good point."

Derek soon returned with their beers, and a third for himself. It was a warm evening: the windows were open and a soft breeze blew through the house, filling it with a pleasant smell of lush things, of clipped grass, ocean salt and fading sunshine. From a short distance away, the waves crashed on the sandy shoreline. While they watched a movie, Jenny kept drinking and got louder and louder as the evening went on and she was enjoying herself. Bree cut herself off after two beers, but her sister had no such compulsion, and by the time the end credits were rolling, Jenny was laid out on the couch and snoring peacefully. The family dog, a large mixed-breed Pinscher named Rocket, was lying by Jenny's feet and watching the proceedings with curious, quiet eyes.

After gathering up the empty food boxes, as well as glasses and several extra cans of beer that Jenny had consumed, it made for a full load for Bree to carry into the kitchen. Derek quickly stood up when he saw her. "Here Bree, let me help you."

"Oh! That's okay Dad, you don't have to."

"Nonsense, I insist." He tossed the cans into the trash first, and then took the glasses to the sink to wash them while Bree threw away the food containers. "You both seemed to be having a good time."

"Yeah, I think so. She worked hard this semester, so she deserves a break, you know?"

Derek looked over his shoulder at him with a smile. "And what about you, Miss Dean's List? Don't you deserve a break, too?"

Bree felt a rush of heat in her cheeks and tried to ignore it. She didn't handle praise very well; it always felt too proud, too self-serving. "I guess so. It's not that big a deal, really."

Derek set both glasses on the rack to dry and dried her hands with a towel. "Care to join me for a little longer? From the sound of it, I don't think Jenny's going to miss either of us very much."

Bree cocked an ear and heard the other girl's snoring grow a bit louder for a moment before it faded back to a more normal volume.

"Are you still thirsty?" Derek asked. "There's plenty of beer left."

"Sure, why not?" Bree didn't think twice about going to the fridge and pulling out two more cans. She set one beside him and opened her own. "You didn't have to keep us company if you had other things to do tonight."

"I was happy to," he said with an easy smile. "Just having you two back around reminded me of old times."

Bree had known Derek since she was a little girl and had first gone to live with the Meyers; even now, he wasn't truly old, not in her mind. He had Jenny's paler, European complexion, with a shot of silver in his hair. He also wore glasses, which made him seem wiser or more austere, somehow. He set them on the table and picked up his can to open it.

"It was nice to come back home tonight," Bree said.

"I can't think of a better place for you both to be. Your mom won't be back from her trip for another couple of weeks anyway and since Finals are done, better you both come here then go hang out at a bar somewhere, right?"

"Probably." A long moment of silence passed. "She's on another business trip?"

"She always is, these days." It was a neutral sort of answer, one that stuck out to Bree. "I usually have the run of the house to myself since you girls left for college."

Bree took a long drink from her beer. "That sounds nice, actually—all that peace and quiet."

"It is, sometimes." He took a drink. "There are downsides to it, though: a man learns how to handle things on his own—you have to, after awhile."

"Yeah, I can imagine." Bree's mind was wandering, and it didn't take a lot of effort to realize she was probably twisting his words into something a lot more perverted than he intended. She wasn't so dark-skinned that she couldn't blush, and Bree took a long drink of her beer, hoping he wouldn't notice.

It didn't work. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Bree forced a little laugh. "Yeah, sorry, Dad. Just... I probably had one too many tonight."

Derek smirked. "No need to be embarrassed. You can tell me."

"Well..." She cleared her throat. "You said 'handle things,' and my brain just fixated on the word 'hand,' and I..." She took another long drink. "I should probably shut up now."

"Ohhhhhh, I get you." His smirk turned to a full grin. "It's okay, you can talk to me about anything, Bree. Even that." He winked at her, and Bree felt her face get even hotter. Derek laughed. "I'm sorry, don't mind me. It's just the booze. I'll sleep it off tonight and be my old self again in the morning."

"It's okay. I'm just glad Jenny's not in a hurry to head out tomorrow—I think we'll both need time to make up for tonight."

He swished the bit of beer left in his can. "Have you met John yet?"

"Jenny's new boyfriend? Not yet. He's planning to meet us when we head out tomorrow." Bree kept the smile on her face, but it felt a little bit forced. "They'll be plenty busy, but it was nice for them to invite me along."

"Mm-hmm." At first, Bree wasn't sure why he had brought up Jenny's boyfriend at all, but made her intentions plain a moment later: "And what about you, Bree? Neither you nor Jenny ever talked about you having a boyfriend, not that I can remember."

Bree shook her head. "Never found the right one."

"What, a pretty girl like you?" He squinted at her. "You're not the picky type and I never noticed, are you?"

"No, I don't think so." Bree calmed herself after his choice of compliment, took a long moment to compose her thoughts and chose her next words carefully: "I know what type I've got in mind. Just haven't found him yet."

"Oh? Are you focusing on your job prospects first?"

She smiled. "Something like that."

"That's admirable. Don't worry about not grabbing someone when you're young—good sex doesn't have to happen just when you're young, you know."

Bree wasn't sure how to respond to that. Her imagination started wandering again, and she tried to bring it up short; Bree was always cautious about sharing too much. "Jenny's always been good with guys. I just never...you know...found one who felt right. I'm just the cute muñequita—just a...a baby doll. Nobody wants a baby doll."

"I don't think that's true at all." His tone was one of disbelief. It stuck out to Bree.

She sighed, sat back in her chair, draining the rest of her beer in one pull before setting it back down on the table. "Doesn't really make any difference, now does it?"

He laid a hand on top of hers and leaned in closer. They were both buzzed from the liquor, that much was obvious, but his voice softened, as though not wanting to upset her. "It's not your fault you are the way you are; not everybody can be a Swedish model. Besides, you've always been the shy type, long as I've known you. Would you rather not talk about this?"

"I..." Bree licked her lips when she noticed just how close her Dad really was. "I don't mind, honest. I just don't know how to say what I really feel, that's all."

"That's alright." He still had that smile, a gentle and warm sort that made Bree feel good all over. "You don't need to be embarrassed. Some people are just late bloomers when it comes to that sort of thing." Her Dad licked his lips, and Bree licked hers in return. "I'm hardly an expert—just a lonely man in a lonely house with too much time on his hands."

Bree took a breath. "I'm sorry. I never noticed... It sounds really hard for you."

"It is, some days." He sat back again. "That's why I said the right one will come along for you eventually. You're young, so there's plenty of time left."

"I guess so."

"Why didn't you ever date anyone, Bree? Jenny had plenty of boys eyeing her over the years, but you never did." He leaned in across the table. "You were always so secretive about it. Did you ever find a guy attractive enough? Ever kiss anyone?" When she didn't answer, he continued: "You don't have to answer...but I won't tell anyone if you do. It'll be our little secret."

Bree was finding it harder to keep her quickening heart and breathing under control. "No, it's okay, I want to." Sitting so close to him, while the alcohol sang in her blood and gave her the courage to speak, it felt liberating, in a way. "I've kissed guys before. I've even had sex. It just...wasn't anything special like I hoped it would be. Maybe when I find the right guy, it will."

"That's probably true. The right one'll come along soon enough... Have you ever thought about what the right one is actually like?"

"Oh, God, only a whole freaking lot!" Bree's laugh sounded desperate as she picked up her beer, just to remember it was empty. When he leaned in close, handed her the rest of his beer, she chugged it down for liquid courage. "He'll be strong, attractive, good looking. Supportive and patient. He'll be interested in what I want and who I am, not just what I've accomplished. He'll take charge when I need him to, know when to tell me no and when to tell me I have to do something anyway. He'll also be good in bed, because I am tired of boys who don't have a damn clue about what I need."

Her Dad was quiet for a long time, but it didn't feel awkward: he looked thoughtful, considering her words, contemplating the meaning behind them. Bree wished she had another beer, just to stop herself from shrinking under his heavy gaze.

"You think you'll ever find this Mr. Wonderful, Bree?" His voice was quiet, heavy and low, like the weight of his words were almost too much to bear.

Bree had to swallow twice before she found her voice. She leaned in close, looking in his eyes. Bree knew she was drunk, that her desires were stupid and pointless, and it wouldn't amount to anything, but she'd said too much to take it all back now. "I know of one person who's like that: somebody who...who's known me for a long time...maybe better than anybody... But, I probably said too—"

He kissed her, which was precisely what Bree wanted to happen but also could've never expected. The kiss was sudden, a firm press of his mouth to hers, and it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Bree took a deep breath through flared nostrils and raised a trembling hand to his face, touching his cheek. When he leaned back, breaking the connection, Bree felt hot all over and was breathing heavy. They looked into each other's eyes, now with a deeper, stronger connection than before. "Did you want me to do that, Bree?"

"Oh God, yes," Bree answered. "For a really, really long time."

It looked like her Dad wanted to ask her something or say more, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he stood up and took Bree's hand. He shut off the kitchen light, fetched a throw blanket from a nearby easy chair and covered the sleeping Jenny with it. Rocket raised his head and blinked his large, dark eyes but after a moment he lay back down again with a deep huff of a sigh; he'd always been Jenny's dog, for the most part.

Daddy took Bree's hand again and led her up the nearby stairs. Bree already knew the layout of the house quite well, so there was a mixture of anticipation and fear that came over her when he led her into the master bedroom at the top of the stairs, quietly shutting the door behind them. It was a room she and Jenny had rarely ever entered as kids, or even as they grew older. She stood to one side, fighting a cold quiver in her stomach as he turned to face her. "How long?" he finally asked.

"Very," she whispered. She had to crane her neck back to look up at him, a reminder of just how tall he was compared to her. He was almost two feet taller than she was, which made her feel very small at that moment.

"How. Long." He repeated the words as his tone lowered and became so very intense.

"A long time." Bree held his eyes, beheld the face she knew so well. She didn't flinch, but told her secret because there was no going back: "Long enough for me to know it might be wrong, but to not care anymore. I wanted you to kiss me, and I want to do a whole lot more than just that."

He hesitated, breathing hard for a long moment, but he didn't flinch either. "If we do this...there's no going back. You know that."

Bree nodded, not answering. It felt right to be there with him, and so very wrong. She wanted to go back to her bedroom and lock herself inside. She also wanted to tell him the whole truth, about how she'd been in love with him for years, but was too afraid to ever think of saying anything.

"Say it, Bree." His voice was quiet, but with an absolute demand for obedience.

"Yes!" she answered, aloud and immediately. "Yes, I...I know that. I know." She looked down, hot with shame. "I've felt like this for so long, Dad. I...I'm sorry."

"How long?" he pressed. He stepped up right in front of her, gently squeezing her arms in his hands. The power of his presence made her want to start shaking. "How long, Bree?"

"For too long," she said, looking up at him again, eyes shining with frustration; she felt helpless, and once she started talking, she couldn't stop. "Since I was a girl. Since Jenny had her Daddy and mine—my real Daddy—never even cared enough to ever even find me. Since every time I couldn't fall asleep without you telling me good night. Since I got older and none of the boys or men I ever met measured up to what I wanted them to be...because none of them were you."

When Bree started to let her head fall, her Dad caught her chin on his finger and lifted it again, forcing her to look up at him. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" His tone was quiet and calm, but a little sad, she thought.

Bree couldn't help but sound bitter. "'Gee Jenny, Dad sure is great, what do you think if I compare him to every man I'll ever meet from now on?'" Bree shook her head.

"Not to her, to me." Derek straightened, looking down at her. "I would've wanted you to say something. I'm glad you finally did say something. You're part of my family, Bree. You matter to me. What you want matters to me." He leaned in close again. "And right now, Jen's asleep downstairs, and you're up here with me."

"What about Cathy—ah, Mom?"

Derek got the chance for a bitter smile, too. "Let's just say your guess about me 'handling things' was pretty much right on the money. Right now, I'm not worried about her, nor should you."

"But what about—"

"Shh." He set a finger to her lips. "Enough questions. If this is what you really want." Bree licked her lips and fought back another fit of shivering. She was full of adrenaline and heat at that moment, and could barely manage to stand still at all. He could see how agitated she was, and he curled his fingers tighter about her arms, pulling her up against him. "Do you think I'm attractive, Bree?"

Bree looked at him: his dark hair was short and streaked with grey, and even if he was paler then her Latin complexion, he still had a rich, suntanned face with a pair of bright, blue eyes. "Yes, Dad."

"Daddy."

It took a conscious effort for Bree to not look shocked. "What?"

His smirk was wicked. "You heard me. If we do this, you call me 'Daddy.'"

Bree liked it even while her stomach did a flip and she was instantly wet. Her response was automatic: "Yes, Daddy."

"Now kiss me again," Daddy said in a softer tone.

Bree knew she had one last chance to resist, to say goodnight and go find her own bedroom, but the buzz from the alcohol and her own lust made that impossible now. She didn't want to resist, not really. Her next kiss was a deliberate one, as she pushed up on her toes and kissed his mouth. Her tongue slid between his lips, swiping across his, inviting him to return it.

Daddy smiled into the kiss while sliding his spread fingers into her hair. He was patient with her, something that Bree was quite thankful for; seconds turned into moments and even longer still as he held her close and their mouths opened wider, tongues stroking and teasing each other.

His hands were firm on her body, clinging tight without hurting her. Then he quickly pulled her blouse off and over her head, throwing it away. His hands slid under the cups of her bra to push it up, baring her flesh to his grip; he pinched her nipples and Bree whimpered into his mouth, but she still didn't pull away. He was bound to be frustrated or in a hurry, and she welcomed any of his touches, not matter how rough.

Her bra went the same way as her shirt as he broke the kiss. Bree was panting, bare chest heaving, eyes shining up at him.

"How was that?" Daddy asked in a soft voice.

"I want more," she answered in a whisper.

He picked her up, curling her legs around his waist while his hands clung tight to the halves of her ass. They kissed again as he carried her across the room like she weighed almost nothing. They moved farther away from the doorway, farther away from the sleeping Jenny, farther away from any sane or logical decision. Bree was committed now to whatever came of her choice, and she wouldn't back out now.

Daddy tossed her onto the bed, where she landed with a soft huff and a creak of the springs. It was a four-post bed with a coverlet done in cream with red edging; the decorative pillows had tiny tassels and red puffs. His fingers were greedy and quick, grabbing the waistband of her pants and pulling them under the swell of her bottom, down and off her legs. All she had left were a pair of white socks—plain, simple, unattractive, just like her.