Henry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Morning sunlight filtered into the room through the sheer curtains on the double doors. He glanced at them and blinked. The doors led to a balcony with stone balustrades, which overlooked a yard that made him think of a Roman villa.
The house—Henry wouldn't call it a "mansion"—had been built by some idiot movie star in the Seventies. It was a cross between the Playboy mansion and Caesar's Palace, complete with cypress trees, a marble fountain, and a "pool villa" that was bigger than the house Henry grew up in.
Personally, he thought it was ostentatious. His wife liked it—it was her idea of classical. It was also the lifestyle she'd grown accustomed to. With a frown, he rolled the phrase over in his mind and imagined a high-priced divorce lawyer using exactly those words to squeeze more money out of him. He sighed with a mixture of disgust and resignation.
After a moment he glanced at his wife, asl**p beside him. Even after thee c***dren and twenty-plus years of marriage, Leanne was a beautiful woman. He'd been dreaming about her and he had an erection. Unfortunately, he knew better than to wake her. They hadn't had sex in more than a year, and only then because she'd been d***k after a party. She always had some excuse to spurn him, and he wouldn't f***e himself on her.
The lack of sex was frustrating, but he smirked at one of the few thoughts that gave him comfort: he still looked like he had when he was twenty-five. He had more gray in his hair and a bit more weight around his middle, but Leanne had to work hard to keep her figure. Her blonde hair came from an expensive salon, and only her plastic surgeon knew about the nips and tucks.
Well, Henry thought, I know about the nips and tucks too. He paid for everything, of course. Why wouldn't he? She was his wife, after all.
But aren't wives supposed to have sex with their husbands? he wondered sarcastically. At least once in a while? Unfortunately, Leanne was like a Tiffany lamp: too expensive and too beautiful to touch.
Unless you're her personal trainer, Henry thought with a teeth-grinding snarl. Or her decorator... Or her travel agent... Or the father of another pageant contestant... Or... The list went on.
None of the affairs had been for long, but Henry still resented them. He'd even paid a private investigator to follow her for several months. He had proof of several of her affairs—pictures, videos, and even hotel receipts—locked away in his safe.
Since then, he'd had a security system installed in the house, including hidden "nanny cams." Leanne didn't know about them, but the tiny video cameras sent their feeds to a locked cabinet in Henry's private wing of the house. Digital tape recorded every infidelity.
Sometimes Henry watched the video. Leanne was still as wild and uninhibited as she'd always been, just not with him. At some point in their marriage, she'd lost interest in him. He remained faithful to her, although he couldn't explain why, even to himself. He'd had plenty of opportunities over the years, but he'd never taken them.
He didn't know why he didn't divorce her, either. She'd try to take half his money—or worse, half his company—but with overwhelming proof of her infidelity, she'd be lucky to walk away with the clothes on her back. She probably wouldn't contest the divorce in the first place, though. She wouldn't want the scandal.
Unfortunately, Henry had said "till death do us part," and he meant it. So he stayed. And he paid for her exorbitant lifestyle. He even tolerated her affairs, albeit with a silent, seething resentment.
He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His erection had long since disappeared. He padded into the bathroom and shed his monogrammed silk pajamas. They were a gift from Leanne, of course. She wanted him to look the part of the wealthy industrialist.
He snorted. "Wealthy industrialist," indeed! He owned a company which had survived the downsizing of California's Military-Industrial Complex, nothing more. In addition to his company, he personally held patents on a dozen processes used in the aerospace industry. If anything, he was a successful businessman and inventor.
The US government wasn't going to stop building missiles or launching satellites anytime soon, so Henry's patents alone would earn millions of dollars a year for years to come. Even Leanne couldn't spend that much money, and their c***dren would be wealthy, without ever working a day in their lives.
Henry turned on the shower and shook his head in frustration. Of his three c***dren, only one of them deserved the money. The irony was, she wanted it the least. His son, Chad, was twenty-four, single, and an entertainment lawyer. He was also a spoiled playboy, who partied with the Hollywood glitterati. As far as Henry was concerned, they were a bunch of shallow, undisciplined sybarites.
His oldest daughter was almost as bad. At twenty-two, Kacy had two goals in life: to become Miss USA, and to marry a good-looking, wealthy... somebody. She didn't really care what her future husband did for a living—if anything—as long as he was handsome and rich. At the moment, she was dating a semi-literate race car driver. Henry snorted in disgust as he lathered himself.
How had he gone wrong? How had he raised two c***dren who were such... jackals?
He hadn't, that's how.
Chad was a male version of his mother, narcissistic and completely amoral. And Kacy had taken up her mother's crown in the beauty queen business.
Henry shook his head with disbelief. How had he gone wrong?
His one consolation was that he hadn't gone wrong with his youngest daughter. For whatever reason, Aly was an actual human being. She had more goodness and decency than Chad and Kacy combined, and she actually used the brain God had given her. At nineteen, she'd just finished her first year of college.
Henry had tried to convince her to attend his one of his alma maters, Rice or Caltech, but she'd had her sights set on Virginia Tech. He thought she was going for the wrong reasons—she liked the football team—but the school did have a solid engineering program. It might not be up to the standards of Caltech, but it was a far cry from the local community college. So he'd reluctantly agreed, and Aly had gone to school 2,500 miles away.
The distance had been the hardest part. He and Aly were close—too close, he sometimes thought—and they traded e-mails almost every day. They talked on the phone at least once a week, and she e-mailed pictures as often as she could. In a week, she'd be home for the summer, and he'd be able to spend as much time with her as he wanted. She had a six-week internship with a company in Thousand Oaks, but the rest of the summer was hers.
Thinking about her always made him smile, and he finished his shower in a much better mood. Still smiling, he rushed to get ready. He had a busy day at the office, and he wanted to beat the traffic. He dressed in a suit and tie, and barely spared a glance for Leanne on the way out of the bedroom.
She was still asl**p, of course. She wouldn't rise until well after ten o'clock. Her personal trainer was due at eleven, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Henry clenched his jaw and swallowed a snarl. Fortunately, his cell phone rang as soon as he turned out of the driveway. As he talked to the East Coast client, he forgot all about Leanne and her unfaithful, self-absorbed, hedonistic, manipulative...
Henry finished his conversation as he pulled into his parking space. He snapped the phone closed and strode into the building. His office was a short walk from the main atrium, and his assistant looked up when he walked into the reception area.
"Good morning, Dr. Adair," she said.
Henry grinned at her. She normally called him by his first name, so she must've been in a playful mood. She was the only person who called him "doctor." Everyone else in the company called him Mr. Adair, or simply Hank, if they knew him well enough. But she'd been his assistant for nearly ten years, and she'd earned the right to tease him.
"Mornin', Jayne," he said. Then he smiled with inner amusement—even after three decades on the coast, he still reverted to his Texas drawl sometimes.
"I put your breakfast on your desk," she said as she followed him into his office suite.
Pomegranate juice and a bran muffin, he thought bleakly. Great. He missed the days when he could have a sausage biscuit, or even a breakfast burrito. But the doctor had told him to watch his cholesterol, so Jayne relentlessly fed him healthy food. He did sneak an occasional cheeseburger for lunch, but only when she wasn't paying attention, which wasn't often.
"Raytheon is having problems," she said. She clicked his mouse to bring up his e-mail. While he ate breakfast, she summarized more than twenty e-mails. As she did, she bent over his arm, and he had a difficult time not glancing at her breasts. Worse, her perfume made him think of very unprofessional things. He ruthlessly pulled his mind back to the task at hand: problems with one of their major clients.
"Thanks, Jayne," he said when she fell silent and straightened. He peered up at her for a moment, studying her face. She wasn't a classic beauty like Leanne, but she was pretty. Her good looks were the reason he'd hired her in the first place, although he quickly discovered her preternatural ability to remember things—from names and faces to facts and figures. She was also loyal, which he valued nearly as much as her other abilities.
He chuckled to himself. Even with her professional skills, he still appreciated her good looks. She was shorter than Leanne, but just as busty. He'd never asked, but he was sure her breasts were real. And the rest of her figure suited her perfectly. She was a bit of a clothes horse—Henry paid her very well—but she was always professional. Sexy as hell, perhaps, but still professional.
When the silence drew out, she arched an eyebrow, teasing and serious at the same time.
Completely out of the blue, he asked, "When did you know it was time to get a divorce?"
She blinked in surprise.
"Sorry," he said hastily. "Forget I said anything."
She looked at him for another moment, inscrutable. She'd been divorced for at least eight years, and Henry didn't know why he'd even asked the question.
"Really," he said. "Forget I asked."
"I guess I knew from the beginning," she said at last. "I liked the idea of being married more than the reality."
"And when Jeff started talking about k**s..." She shrugged. "Are you and Leanne...?"
He shook his head, a bit too quickly. He was suddenly embarrassed. He and Jayne knew a lot about each other's personal lives—it was inevitable, especially since they worked so closely—but there were some things he didn't share, like Leanne's infidelity. Jayne probably knew (or suspected, at any rate), but they didn't speak about it openly.
"Okay," she said at last. Her smile held a touch of melancholy. After a moment she turned to business. "After the Raytheon crisis, top priorities are the messages from Colonel Musgrave, Senator Tasker's office, and Dr. Mueller."
"Right," he said. His own smile held a bit of melancholy as well.
Henry ignored the beep of another call. He didn't even take the cell phone from his ear to see who was calling. His engineering manager was heading to Raytheon's facility in Arizona, and the call had already taken longer than it should have. Henry was growing annoyed with the man.
"Look, Bob," he said at last, "you're in charge of engineering. I understand that Raytheon is working with a new process, but when problems do come up, it's your job to fix 'em. Got it?"
The phone was silent for several seconds. "Got it," Bob said at last. "Sorry, Hank."
"I'm sorry about your fishing trip, but you know how much money we're talking about here." The Raytheon contract ran well into eight figures, with quite a bit more if the new guidance technology increased accuracy, which Henry knew it would.
"Yeah, I know," Bob said. Then he seemed to brace himself. "I'll get to the bottom of it and make sure the Raytheon guys know what they're doing."
"I know you will, Bob." Henry's phone beeped again, but he ignored it. "That's why I'm sending you instead of trusting this to anyone else."
The conversation turned to details, and they talked for another five minutes. Henry sighed when he finally snapped the phone closed. His desk phone rang. The blinking light showed an internal call.
"What?" he snapped.
"Your daughter's on line three," Jayne said smoothly.
"Sorry, Jayne," he said. "I didn't mean to bite your head off."
He smiled. "What would I do without you?"
"Go bankrupt and have your f****y disown you," she said with aplomb.
"That might not be so bad," he muttered, thinking of Leanne and his oldest c***dren.
Jayne must have heard him. "It's Aly on line three," she said.
He perked up immediately. "Okay. Thanks." He stabbed the button for line three. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Is it a good time?" Aly said. "I tried calling your cell phone, but you didn't answer."
"Sorry," he said. "I was on another call. An important one." He frowned at the memory, but then took a deep breath and f***ed a smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I need help, Dad," she said frankly, and Henry sat forward.
"Jayne," Henry bellowed, ignoring the intercom.
"You don't have to shout," she said when she appeared in the door. "I'm right here."
"Book me on the next flight to Blacksburg, Virginia," he said. "And have a rental car waiting at the airport. Also, call U-Haul, or Ryder, or whoever, and rent a truck for a one-way trip."
"Are you on a white knight errand?" she asked, smiling wryly.
"My little girl needs help."
Jayne leaned against the doorframe. "What happened?"
"Her car died and she doesn't have a way to get home from school. The dealership told her it would be two weeks before they'd have the parts. Damned Eurotrash imports!"
She rolled her eyes. It was one of his frequent rants.
"Anyway," he continued, "it's a good time for me to go—"
"To escape, you mean," she interrupted.
"—and I'm..." He turned sheepish. "Am I that obvious?"
She smiled fondly and shook her head.
"Yeah, I guess I'm taking an impromptu vacation. But I won't really be out of contact. I'll have my laptop and my cell phone. Bob can handle Raytheon, and you can handle everything here."
"So I'm going to rescue my little girl."
"That's what daddies are for," she said. Aly was like a k** s****r to her. "I'll make all the arrangements," she added. "Do you want me to drive you to the airport?"
He considered for a moment, but then shook his head. He didn't want to inconvenience her. Besides, he needed her running things in the office. "I'll take a limo," he said.
She nodded. "I'll have the driver meet you at your house."
With a nod and a smile, he turned back to his computer. He had a dozen e-mails to send before he left. He'd also have to tell Leanne, but she wouldn't care. She and Kacy had a pageant in San Diego. He vaguely recalled that it was part of the Miss California USA competition, but he didn't give it a second thought.
Virginia was hot. Hot and sticky. Henry had already worked up a sweat just walking to his rental car. Five minutes later, with the air conditioner on full blast, he was headed toward Blacksburg and the Virginia Tech campus. He called Aly once he was sure of his bearings. She gave him directions to her dorm, but he remembered the place from when he'd brought her to school.
She met him in the lobby and his eyes lit up when he saw her. Unlike Leanne and Kacy—who were salon blondes—Aly was dark-haired. And while Leanne and Kacy were busty—courtesy of very expensive boob jobs—Aly was petite and natural. She was nothing like her mother or s****r, and Henry liked that just fine.
She hugged him tight. "Thanks for coming. I could've driven home by myself, but..."
"Nonsense," he said. "That's what fathers are for."
She looped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."
They picked up the rental truck and returned to the dorm, where they loaded Aly's things. Henry couldn't imagine how she'd fit so much stuff in her tiny dorm room. It filled nearly half of the small truck.
After she checked out of the dorm, they had dinner and spent the night in a hotel. Her car was still with the dealer, but Henry arranged for them to send it cross-country when the repairs were complete. The service manager had balked at Henry's "request," but the dealership's general manager understood the unspoken threat in Henry's voice.
The next morning, Henry and Aly were on the road by seven o'clock, with sausage biscuits and hot coffee. Henry cringed at Jayne's imagined reproach, but he savored the buttery biscuit and willed her to silence.
"What're you smirking at?" Aly asked.
He felt his cheeks heat. "Smirking?"
"Yeah. Just now. You were smirking."
"I shouldn't be eating this," he admitted.
"Because of your cholesterol?"
In the blink of an eye, she snatched the biscuit and began rolling down her window.
She tossed it out, wrapper and all.
"Aly, that was my breakfast!"
"We'll stop for an early lunch," she said, unperturbed.
He glared at her.
"You know Jayne's going to ask me how you ate," she said. "And I won't lie to her."
"You could've lied this once," he muttered, half serious, half joking.
"No, I couldn't've. If you won't take care of yourself, the women in your life will just have to do it for you."
The trip through Tennessee was uneventful. After more than ten hours on the road, they stopped for the night in Memphis. They asked the hotel clerk for adjoining rooms, and opened the door between them.
Henry checked his e-mail while Aly took a shower. He'd just finished replying to the urgent messages when she walked through the adjoining door. She wore a towel around her head and a baggy Hokies T-shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her toss a bottle of lotion onto the bed and flounce after it. He glanced at her, but then immediately looked away. She wasn't wearing panties, and he'd caught a glimpse of her...
He felt an all-too-familiar stab of desire, but he quickly suppressed it. He cleared his throat. "Um... sweetheart," he said tentatively. "This isn't your dorm."
Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see her confusion.
"Shouldn't you put on some shorts or something?"
She laughed. "Oh, Dad."
What's that supposed to mean? he wondered.
"It's not like you're going to attack me or anything," she added. But she didn't cover herself, and Henry resolutely stared at his laptop.
"No," he said, "but you shouldn't walk around half-naked, either."
"I'm not 'half-naked.'"
"Aly," he said, his voice level, "I can see your... you know."
"My what, Dad?" she teased.
He cleared his throat again. "You know what I'm talking about. And I'm not going to turn around till you put on some shorts."
"All right." She hopped off the bed and returned to her own room. "If I'd known you were going to be such a prude," she shouted back, "I'd've worn a hoodie and sweats." She returned a moment later, wearing a pair of running shorts instead. "I was finished with my legs anyway."
She pulled off her T-shirt and Henry almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to face his computer.
Later that night, Henry lay awake in bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's pussy. Her lips were smooth and hairless, and he wondered if she shaved the rest. As soon as the thought popped into his head, he suppressed it in a wave of guilt.
Fathers do not think of their daughters that way, he told himself.
Leanne had her pubic hair waxed. She kept a little strip above her slit, but the rest was bare. She didn't even bother to hide her body from him. It was just one way she tormented him, and he hated her for it. Personally, he liked more hair than just the strip, but that was the style these days. Besides, he'd be happy with any pussy he could get.
Except my daughter's, he added hastily.
He tormented himself for another ten or fifteen minutes. When he realized that he had an erection, he felt even guiltier. He rolled over and tried to go to sl**p, but his hard-on wouldn't go away. He kept seeing Aly's smooth pussy in his mind, or her breasts, so firm and round and...
Stop it! he cried silently. Stop it, stop it, stop it!
He punched the pillow and tried to get settled. Eventually, his erection subsided and he fell into a fitful, dreamless sl**p.
Aly left the suite door open in the morning. Worse, she kept walking past it as she packed her small suitcase. She was nude, of course, and Henry did his best to keep his eyes focused on his laptop. He began pounding out e-mails, venting his sexual frustration on his computer.
Before he realized what was happening, he felt Aly behind him. Fortunately, she was dressed. She rubbed his shoulders and he began to relax.
"Do you want a sausage biscuit for breakfast?" she asked.
He looked up and felt her shrug off his unspoken question.
"We're on vacation," she said. "I won't tell."
He smiled. The old Aly was back, the girl he loved, rather than the sex kitten flashing her father. "Sure, sweetheart," he said.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
"Now c'mon," she said. "Let's stop by McDonald's on the way out of town."
He smiled and closed his laptop.
For the next two hours, they talked about everything in the world, from engineering courses to music to boys. Or, as Aly corrected him, "men." He didn't like to think of her dating men instead of boys, but she wasn't a little girl anymore.
She told him about dating an English professor—a man fifteen years her senior—and Henry even managed to hide his disapproval. Fortunately, the relationship didn't last, since she didn't want a long-term commitment. Then she told him about one of the engineering professors. He'd been married and older still, but she ended their relationship after only a month.
"What about guys your age?" Henry finally asked.
She shrugged indifferently. "They're boys," she said. "They only care about one thing—getting into my pants—but most of 'em wouldn't know what to do if they got there." She shrugged again. "I just like older guys. Men." She looked at him sidelong. "I wonder why."
Henry felt his face flush, and he concentrated on the road. He tried not to think about her comment, but he wasn't entirely successful. He did manage to discreetly re-arrange his erection, but it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
They fell silent for the next twenty miles. He didn't know what she was trying to do, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. He told himself—over and over—that fathers didn't think of daughters "that way." He had a difficult time convincing himself.
They stopped for lunch at the Arkansas-Oklahoma border. Aly ordered a chef's salad, while Henry ordered a cheeseburger and French fries. She gave him a sharp look, but he said, "Vacation, right?"
She relented a moment later, and reached across the table to pat his hand. He felt an electric tingle and immediately looked away. Aly merely giggled and stole one of his French fries.
"Oh, Dad," she said with a sigh.
They finished their meal in relative silence, but Henry couldn't keep his eyes from her. She wasn't wearing much makeup, and she had her hair pinned up. Still, she looked beautiful. She was wearing a halter top—without a bra—and he could clearly see her small nipples. He tried not to stare, but she caught him once and he turned bright red.
After lunch, he was glad to get back on the road. Aly wasn't built like her mother, but her lithe figure accented what breasts she did have. Unfortunately, she turned in her seat and sat with her back against the door. She rested her thigh on the seat, and her shorts were loose enough that he could almost see...
He gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Aly grinning at him.
The drive across Oklahoma was mostly uneventful, and Henry kept his mind on business. When he had good cell phone service, he made a few calls, and got updates from Jayne about the situation with Raytheon.
When they neared the Texas border, the truck started grinding each time Henry let off the accelerator. Aly took out the map. They decided to stop for the night in Amarillo. It was the next big town, and they could have a mechanic look at the truck.
Unfortunately, the grinding grew worse. When the truck gave a final lurch, Henry gripped the steering wheel. He might not be a mechanical engineer, but he knew the sound of metal on metal when he heard it. The interstate was straight and flat, but it was also full of 18-wheelers traveling eighty miles an hour. He looked for a place to pull over.
The transmission gave a final squeal and the engine died.
The steering grew heavy and Henry aimed for the shoulder. An air horn bellowed as a truck barreled past. He turned on the hazard blinkers and sat back, his shoulders suddenly hot with tension.
"Wow," Aly said. "That was close."
Henry nodded wordlessly. Then he flipped open his cell phone. It didn't have a signal. "Try yours," he said.
Aly opened her phone, but then shook her head.
"Well," he said, resigned, "I guess we're walking."
They shouldered their bags and started walking toward the town ahead. A battered old tow truck passed them about twenty minutes later. It pulled to the shoulder and waited for them in a cloud of dust.
"Is that your truck broke down back there?" the driver asked, hooking a thumb behind him.
"I can't tow it with this rig," the driver said, "but I can give you a ride to town. That's where I'm goin'."
"That'd be great," Henry said. "Thanks."
"I'm Tyler," the driver introduced himself.
"Hank," Henry said. "And this is my daughter, Aly."
"Pleased to meet ya."
They made small talk during the drive. The town was called Lela, and Tyler owned the only garage in town.
"Sorry I can't tow your truck tonight," he said. "My main tow truck's on the rack." He pointed to a brown cardboard box on the dash. "Fuel pump."
"I'll have it fixed tomorrow, 'bout midmorning," Tyler said. "If you'd like, you can call Moneymaker's Towing in Shamrock," he continued. "They'll charge you for the trip out here, in addition to the tow, but I won't be able to look at your truck till I get mine off the rack anyway. You can have Moneymaker's tow you back to Shamrock, though." He shrugged.
"Will you be able to fix our truck once you get it to your garage?" Henry asked.
"Won't know till I look at it."
"Do you want to call Moneymaker's?" Tyler asked. "I can give you the number."
Henry looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o'clock. He had an emergency number for the rental company, but he decided to deal with them in the morning. "Do you have a hotel in town?" he asked. Tyler gave him an appraising look. It wasn't a puzzled look, though, which raised Henry's opinion of the man.
"Sure," he said at last. "We have the old Grand. It's not very modern, but it's clean."
"Then I think we'll spend the night," Henry said. "If you can tow the truck in the morning..."
Tyler nodded. "I'll drop you off at the hotel and give you a call when I'm ready in the morning. Should be nine or ten o'clock. A'ight?"
"Sounds good," Henry said. He pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the ride to town?"
"Are you sure?"
Tyler snuffled and nodded. "Wouldn't be able to call myself a Christian if I'd left you there on the interstate." He tipped his hat. "See you in the morning."
Henry thanked him again and then shut the truck's door. It pulled away with a cloud of dust.
The Lela Grand Hotel was clean, but small and dated. It must've been built in the Twenties, and it hadn't been renovated since. It looked like something out of a movie, with faded red carpet and battered wood paneling. The manager perked up and smiled as they approached the desk.
Probably the owner, Henry thought. "I'd like two rooms for the night," he said aloud. "I don't suppose you have adjoining rooms?"
"Sure do," the man said. He had Henry sign the register—an honest-to-God paper register—and swiped Henry's credit card through a reader. The device chirred as it dialed. Then a busy signal blared. "Ah, that happens all the time," the manager said. "You look like the trustworthy type, though. I'll just make an imprint of your card and we'll run it through when you check out. Is that okay?"
"Fine," Henry said.
The manager handed over two keys—genuine brass keys, with faded plastic fobs. "Rooms 6 and 8," he said, "at the top of the stairs, to your right. Do you need help with your bags?"
Henry shook his head. The hotel might be quaint, but the manager was polite, and Henry couldn't ask for more, especially in the middle of nowhere.
The rooms were just as dated as the lobby. The TVs were fairly modern, but the phones were old single-line clunkers. Henry threw his suitcase and laptop on the bed. It squeaked as they landed. A moment later, Aly knocked on the adjoining door. He unlocked it and swung it open.
"Nice place, huh?" she said. She was serious. "It's kinda cool, isn't it?"
"It's not what I'm used to," he said, "but it'll do in a pinch."
"The bathrooms have old cast-iron bathtubs. Cool, huh?" Ten minutes later, she met with her first disappointment: her bathroom didn't have any hot water. She started to call the front desk, but then had an idea. She went into Henry's bathroom and tried the tub.
"It's hot," she said. "If you don't mind, I'll just take a bath in here."
He gestured with a smile. While she ran a bath, he plugged the phone cord into his laptop. The dial-up connection was slow, but the computer began downloading e-mail.
He listened to Aly hum as she soaked in the bath. His thoughts wandered to her body, and he quickly flushed with embarrassment. After a guilty moment he shook off the thought and concentrated on his computer.
"Do you want to have a late dinner?" Aly asked when she emerged from the bathroom.
Henry turned but then quickly looked away. She was wearing a single white towel. Around her head. Her nipples were puckered and stiff from the air conditioning, and he had an answer to his question about her pubic hair: she had a small strip above her slit.
"Oh, Dad," she chided, "don't be such a prude."
"Sweetheart, I'm your father. I'm not your boyfriend."
"So? You've seen me naked before."
"Not since you were ten."
"That's not true. You've seen me plenty of times since then."
He had, but he felt guilty remembering. She and her friends had a cavalier attitude about nudity. He'd seen her and the other girls as they sunbathed topless. Or when they spent the night and wore scanty nightshirts. Or when her best friend, Jordyn, accidentally sent him e-mail with...
"Hello?" Aly said. "Dad?"
He shook his head and looked at her. He'd forgotten about her nudity, and felt his face heat as he looked away. His embarrassment redoubled when he felt his erection bind in his underwear.
"Oh, Dad," Aly said. She leaned over his shoulder to kiss his cheek.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nipples, pinkish-brown and pointy. She walked to her room and he breathed a sigh of relief. His erection didn't go away, but at least he could shift it and ease the pressure.
The diner across the street was open, and they ate a quiet meal. Henry's thoughts were chaotic and completely inappropriate—he couldn't get the image of Aly out of his mind. Back in the hotel room, he lied and told her he had a headache. He closed the door between their rooms and leaned against it, mentally exhausted.
A cold shower didn't do anything to dampen his libido. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's firm breasts or trimmed pussy. He climbed into bed with an erection. He wanted to jerk off, but he refused to do it with thoughts of his daughter clouding his imagination.
He tried to think of Leanne, but his mind's eye kept returning to Aly. He thought about a half-dozen other women, from movie stars to employees, but Aly always returned to the forefront. He even went to his computer and tried surfing for porn, but the dial-up connection was painfully slow. In the end, he went back to bed, where he tossed and turned until he eventually fell asl**p.
Henry opened his eyes and gazed up at the plaster on the ceiling. It had once been white, but age and water stains had turned it a dull yellow. He had an erection—he'd been dreaming about Leanne. Again. He could've sworn he felt her next to him, but that was crazy. The feeling persisted, so he glanced to his right, just to be sure. He recoiled in surprise and leapt out of bed.
Aly, sl**py-eyed and disheveled, blinked at him from the other side of the bed. "Unh, what time is it?"
"What're you doing in here?" he blurted.
"My air conditioner started making a racket, so I came in here."
"Alyson..." He drew a deep breath and waited for his heart to slow. "We need to talk."
"About what?" She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.
Henry immediately sat on the bed again. Aly was wearing a midriff halter top and a matching pair of panties. The outfit was tight and translucent. It certainly didn't leave anything to the imagination. He rested his arm on his thigh to hide his renewed erection.
"Alyson," he began, slowly, deliberately, "I'm not your boyfriend, and this isn't a dorm room."
"I know. So?"
"I'm your father, and you shouldn't dress like that around me. More importantly, you shouldn't sl**p in the same bed with me."
"But my air conditioner..."
He set his jaw. "It's not right."
She rolled her eyes. "It's vacation. I won't tell if you won't."
"This isn't like a sausage biscuit, sweetheart."
"Alyson, I'm your father. For that matter, I shouldn't see any girl your age dressed like that."
"I'm not a girl," she shot back.
"Okay," he conceded, "I shouldn't see any woman your age dressed like that."
"Why? Don't you like me?"
"I love you, Aly, and that's precisely why I shouldn't see you like that. And it's precisely why you shouldn't be sl**ping in my bed. It's not right."
"Why? We didn't do anything. I mean, you didn't even know I was there until you woke up."
She was right, and it scared him. He was used to sl**ping with someone, and he hadn't even noticed when the someone in question wasn't his wife. "That's beside the point," he said. "Wrong is wrong, whether I know about it at the time or not."
She huffed. "When did you become so repressed, Dad?"
"I'm not repressed."
"Then why are you so uptight about how I'm dressed?" She flung back the covers to make sure he could see everything.
He controlled his breathing with an effort of will. "Aly, that outfit doesn't leave anything to the imagination."
"It's not supposed to. That's why I wore it, Dad. I'm a grown woman. I choose who gets to see my body." Her eyes glinted. "And I choose you."
"I know you're not a prude, Dad. So relax. And don't worry about what I'm wearing. I don't dress like a slut in public. So if I want to dress sexy in private, why should you complain?"
"But I'm your father," he said, which sounded feeble.
"So? You're still a man, aren't you? Or has Mom finally cut off your balls?"
He squared his shoulders and scowled. "Now listen here, young lady—"
"Oh, come on, Dad! Do you think I don't know about Mom and her affairs? I know what she's been doing to you, and I hate her for it."
"That's between her and me," Henry said.
"You think it doesn't affect me? Or Chad and Kacy? We know what's going on."
"Still, it's none of your business—"
"It is my business when I see how unhappy you are. Why don't you divorce her?"
"Because I made a vow, and I'm going to honor it."
"Even if Mom ignores it?"
"I made a vow," he said stubbornly.
"Then why don't you have a mistress? Tons of women would sl**p with you. And not just women your age, either. You're totally sexy. Women my age would sl**p with you."
His eyes widened.
"Sure," she said. "Jordyn's always thought you were hot. She'd sl**p with you in a heartbeat. And she's not the only one."
"This is not the kind of discussion we should be having," he said suddenly. "Do you want to take a shower? Or do you want me to go first?"
"Why don't we take one together?"
He ignored the question.
She rolled her eyes.
"Fine" he said. "I'll go first."
Once again, the cold water didn't do a thing for his erection. He didn't want to emerge from the bathroom clad in just a towel, but his pajamas wouldn't hide his hard-on any better. So he wrapped the towel around his waist and hoped that Aly had returned to her room.
She hadn't, and her eyes fell to his groin. He quickly turned to face the sink, but he could feel her looking at him. She casually stripped off her halter and panties. She stood behind him, almost defiantly. He could see her in the mirror, but he resolutely focused on his own reflection.
"You can't avoid the issue forever, Dad," she said at last.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're a man," she said, "not a monk. If Mom won't have sex with you, then you should find someone who will."
He stubbornly kept his mouth shut.
She shook her head in resignation. "Fine. Have it your way. But that"—she nodded at his hidden erection—"won't go away simply because you ignore it."
The phone rang. Henry answered it brusquely. He'd already spent most of the morning arguing with Aly—about Leanne. Unfortunately, her arguments found fertile ground, and he was beginning to question his commitment to his wife. So he was glad for the distraction of dealing with the broken-down truck.
"Ready when you are, Hank," Tyler said. "Do you want me to pick you up at the Grand?"
"Please," Henry said. "I'll meet you out front in five minutes."
When he hung up, Aly stood and reached for her cell phone.
"Uh-uh," Henry said immediately. "You stay here."
She arched a defiant eyebrow.
He softened, but didn't give in. "Look, Aly, I need some time alone. Okay?"
She searched his eyes for a moment. Then hers softened as well, and she smiled. "Sure, Dad." She made a vague gesture. "I'm sorry. I just hate what Mom does to you. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who loves you. Instead..." She made another gesture, full of anger and frustration. "You deserve better."
"I know, kitten, but you take what life gives you."
"What if life isn't fair?"
He laughed with genuine amusement. It was his first laugh in hours. "Life isn't fair, sweetheart. That's why you have to grab the bull by the horns and take what you can get."
They heard the diesel clatter of the tow truck outside, and they shared a final look. Aly crossed to him and he hugged her.
"I love you, Dad," she said. "I just want you to be happy."
Tyler towed the rental truck to his garage and quickly confirmed the problem: the transmission.
"I can't fix it here," he said gravely. "It needs a complete rebuild."
"What are my options?" Henry asked.
"You can call Ryder and get 'em to send me a new transmission. Or I can take the transmission to Shamrock. I know a place there that can rebuild it for you." He wiped his hands. "But it seems to me like this is Ryder's problem, not yours."
Henry nodded. Unfortunately, he'd been preoccupied with Aly all morning, so he hadn't called the company's emergency number. He took out his cell phone and called Jayne instead. She'd get results faster than he would, and she'd be more polite in the process. Five minutes later, she called him back.
"You should be getting a call in a few minutes," she said.
The phone beeped. "Thanks, Jayne," he said. "They're on the other line now."
Fifteen minutes later, Henry wanted to fling the phone across the dusty parking lot. The rental company insisted on sending their own mechanic, who wouldn't arrive until later that day. They wouldn't send a new transmission until their own man looked at the truck. Henry understood the business logic behind their decision, but it still irked him. At some point, customer service was more important than the bottom line. He should know!
He resigned himself to the wait. Tyler went to work on a broken tractor, while Henry spent the afternoon on the phone. His cell phone battery died in the middle of a conference call, so he had Jayne patch him in on Tyler's battered office phone. He spent four hours holed up in the cramped and grimy office, either talking on the phone or receiving faxes on Tyler's ancient thermal fax machine.
At four o'clock, when the Ryder mechanic still hadn't arrived, he called Jayne again. She called him back with the news that the mechanic had had a breakdown of his own. Henry wanted to pound the desk in helpless frustration. Unfortunately, that wouldn't do any good.
He called the truck company and worked his way through people until he was talking to the fleet manager. The man promised that the mechanic would arrive first thing in the morning, Saturday or not. Henry gritted his teeth and hung up.
"Sorry, Hank," Tyler said from the doorway.
"It's not your fault," Henry grumbled. He f***ed a smile. "What do I owe you for the tow and rental of your office? I think I used most of your fax paper."
"Aw, let's just see how this whole thing plays out," Tyler said. "Besides, Ryder should pay for everything."
Henry agreed. "But I don't want you to get stiffed."
"I trust you," Tyler said.
"You're a good man," Henry said.
They shook hands, and Henry walked back to the hotel.
"You look exhausted," Aly said as soon as she saw him.
He smiled bleakly. He plugged his cell phone into the charger and sank into a chair. In addition to the real work he'd done, fighting with the truck company had been an ordeal. But he was used to cutting through red tape, and the frustration made him even more determined. Aly started rubbing his shoulders.
"Why don't you take a shower and get cleaned up," she suggested.
Tyler's office had been dusty. Henry didn't care at the time, but he realized that he probably looked like he'd spent the day in a Panhandle garage.
A few minutes into his shower, Aly knocked on the bathroom door. She opened it without waiting for an answer. The shower curtain was transparent, so Henry shielded his privates.
"I brought you some extra towels," she said. "And when you're done, I'll give you a massage. How's that sound?"
He had mixed feelings about the idea, but he didn't want to disappoint her. "Sure, kitten, that sounds great."
She closed the door and he was alone with his thoughts.
Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He used another to dry his hair and torso. Aly smiled at him, but her eyes seemed to roam over his body. She looked... hungry. Fortunately, he was too tired to react, and his dick remained mercifully limp.
She spread a towel on the bed. "Here," she said. "You just lay here and relax."
He settled on his stomach and crossed his arms beneath his chin. Then he closed his eyes and replayed his afternoon. The conference call had gone surprisingly well. His other calls were a mixed bag of problems and opportunities. Fortunately, he had the ability to either fix the problems or turn them into opportunities.
Aly climbed onto the bed and settled on his towel-covered behind. "Just relax, Dad," she said softly. Then she began kneading his shoulders, and he groaned softly. She was using some kind of warm oil—it smelled like flowers—but he didn't care. He tried to turn his thoughts back to business, but he couldn't focus. Instead, his mind wandered.
Why had Aly been flashing him for two days? And why had she dropped so many innuendos? He wasn't stupid—he understood her looks and comments. She had to know that. So why?
Was she trying to seduce him? Was that what this morning's conversation had been about? He knew he shouldn't talk with her about his problems with Leanne, but she seemed to know about them already. And she seemed to be suggesting... an alternative.
His mind balked at the idea, but his dick twitched in spite of his conscious reaction. Aly reminded him of Leanne, back when his then-future-wife was Miss Bexar County Fair. When they'd first met, Leanne was an ambitious beauty queen, with luxurious dark hair and natural breasts. She'd had pubic hair back then, too. Henry grinned at the memory.
Aly's body was just like Leanne's had been: lithe and slim, but curvy in all the right places. Henry felt his penis growing, and he shifted to let it expand. His mind returned to Leanne, but after a few moments, he found himself thinking about Aly again. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself.
"Are you ready for me to do the front?" Aly said.
Henry's eyes snapped open. The last thing he wanted was for Aly to see the lump of his hard-on.
"C'mon, Dad," she said. She swatted his butt as she climbed off him. "Roll over."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was nude. At first he was shocked—so shocked that he simply rolled over when she prodded him. His shock turned to arousal and he tried to suppress it by f***e of will alone. Aly casually climbed onto the bed and settled astride his hips. Her pussy was right over his...
She smiled. "Someone's enjoying himself," she said, grinning slyly.
He started to get up, his face hot with embarrassment.
She put a hand on his chest and held him down. "Just relax," she said. She poured more oil onto her hand and set the bottle aside. Then she began rubbing his chest.
The oil was cool, but Henry barely noticed. He shut his eyes, but the backs of his eyelids played images of Aly's pert, round, succulent...
Stop it! he cried silently.
He felt a pressure on his erection, and he realized that it must be her pussy. He wanted to reach down and...
Stop it, he told himself again, sternly this time.
Aly's hands felt good, but her hips felt better. She wasn't being blatant about it, but she was rubbing his dick with her pussy. He knew that in the process, she was also rubbing herself. He wondered if her pussy was wet.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his imagination. It didn't do any good. He imagined her body over him as she rocked herself on his dick. He could almost feel the softness of her thighs, the heat of her pussy. He opened his eyes with a start.
He could feel the heat of her pussy.
She smiled down at him. Then she moved lower, her hands on his sides, her hips over his thighs. He breathed a sigh of relief. Without her rubbing his towel-covered dick, he could control his desire. He'd kept it in control for years, whenever Leanne refused him. He wasn't going to lose control now, especially with his own daughter.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but Aly's body. When that didn't work, he tried going over business figures. That didn't work either. He decided to sit up, but froze when he felt her hands at his waist.
Without a word, she pulled his towel open. Cool air bathed his penis and testicles. His erection jerked, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to get up, to run away, to do anything but lie there and let her do... whatever.
His imagination betrayed him. He imagined her straddling his hips and lowering herself onto his erection. He imagined her sucking him. He hadn't had a blowjob in years—Leanne used to do it, but not anymore. Not for him, at least. He wanted Aly to suck him now. He knew he shouldn't think of his daughter that way, but he couldn't stop himself. He imagined her...
She stroked his dick.
Pleasure shot through his body. A wave of guilt followed close behind.
"Just relax," she said, her voice soft and oh-so-reasonable. She stroked him again. She must have put more oil on her hands—her fingers slipped over his shaft.
Henry knew he should stop her, but it had been so long! He swallowed hard, his emotions warring within him. Her hands felt incredible, but she was his daughter. He wanted to come, but if he did, he'd never be able to look her in the eye again. He wanted her to mount him, but he needed to stop her before...
"Mmm, nice," she said, soft and sultry. She stroked him with one hand and kneaded his balls with the other.
Pleasure seared through him and he jerked as though he'd touched a live wire. He clamped his eyes shut and tried to focus through the roaring in his ears. He jerked again and felt a splash of hot semen on his belly. She stroked him, her hand strong and sure. He felt another surge of pleasure, along with another hot gush.
"That's it," she urged quietly, still pumping.
He felt warm all over. Aly kept stroking him, although she avoided his sensitive head. He grew soft quickly, but she didn't pull her hands away.
He knew he should say something, but what? He didn't want to tell her how good he felt, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings, either. What she'd done was wrong, but at least it wasn't sex. He kept telling himself that, over and over again. He didn't quite believe it, but it was all he had.
He struggled to sit up, weak from the intensity of his orgasm. Aly smiled at him. Her breasts were shiny with oil, and they rose and fell with her breathing. He tore his eyes away and met hers. She smiled again, a little whimsically.
"Let me get a towel and I'll clean you up," she said. "And then we can go to dinner. I'm starving. Okay?"
He could only nod.
All through dinner, Henry wanted to talk about what had happened. It was wrong. They couldn't do it again. But a tingling warmth still filled him, and his dick twitched every time he shifted in his seat. He kept up his side of the conversation—about her summer internship, of all things—but a part of him focused on how to prevent a recurrence of...
He called it what it was: i****t. It wasn't exactly sex, but it was still wrong. Worse, he remembered what he'd been thinking at the time. His face heated at the memory.
They finished their meal and walked across the street to the hotel. He worked up the nerve to say something, but lost the thread when she smiled at him. She looked so beautiful, so innocent. She didn't look like the girl—the woman, he corrected—who had given him a handjob earlier. She looked like what she was: a teenager out with her father. He felt his determination wither and die.
When they reached their rooms, she changed into a pair of shorts and a midriff T-shirt. The shirt clung to her braless breasts. Her nipples made little shadows when the light was right. She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, TV remote in hand.
"What do you want to watch?" she asked.
Aly, we can't do that again, he silently told her, working up the nerve to say it for real. It's my fault. I should've stopped it.
"How about something on HBO?"
I love you, and you're my daughter. I'm flattered that you... He stopped. He sounded condescending, even to himself. I think you're a beautiful girl, but... Too patronizing. I know you love me, but... Too wishy-washy.
"Do you want to watch something else? CNN?"
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said. He snorted softly at the double meaning of his words.
For her part, Aly seemed perfectly comfortable with what had happened. What I let happen, Henry sternly told himself. I could've stopped it, anytime. He knew the lie as soon as he thought it. He couldn't have stopped it any more than he could've stopped the truck from breaking down.
He yearned to be home, where he wouldn't have to face the shame of what he'd done. He glanced at her. She smiled at him again, the corners of her mouth quirking whimsically.
Henry steeled his nerve and vowed not to repeat his moment of weakness. If it didn't happen again, he wouldn't have to talk about it. He kept telling himself that as he gazed at the TV with sightless eyes.
After an hour of mindless television, Aly yawned. "Are you ready for bed?"
He desperately hoped she'd go to her own room.
"If you don't mind, I'll sl**p in here tonight," she said, dashing his hopes for a painless separation.
"I don't know..."
"I forgot to call the manager about my air conditioner," she said. "It still makes a racket. I can't sl**p with it on."
Henry didn't think she'd "forgotten" at all.
"Sure, sweetheart. I can sl**p on the floor."
"Oh, don't be silly."
They went round and round for two minutes. She was insistent, but Henry had made up his mind.
"Okay, fine," she said at last, exasperated. "If you're going to be unreasonable, I'll just sl**p in my room. I won't have you sl**p on the floor."
That started a second round of arguing, and Henry eventually agreed to sl**p in his own bed... with Aly.
"I'll be good," she said, sensing his reluctance. "I promise."
He didn't want to disappoint her, but he couldn't—could not—allow a repeat of what had happened.
Aly changed into her sheer top and panties while Henry went into the bathroom to change into his silk pajamas. He tried not to look at her as she climbed into her side of the bed. He turned out the bedside light and rolled away from her. It took him a long time to get to sl**p.
He was dreaming, and Leanne was sucking his dick. Her lips felt so good. He moaned and put his hand on her head. She liked it when he did that. Her hair was soft and silken under his fingers. Her lips felt even better. She sucked gently and then pulled back, her lips tight around his shaft.
He wasn't close to coming, although he could feel the pressure building in his balls. She didn't particularly like the taste of semen, but she still let him come in her mouth. She even swallowed. He thought about the first time she'd given him a blowjob, years ago, in the back seat of his old Chevy.
She hadn't been very good at giving head then, but she learned quickly. She wasn't a virgin, but she hadn't had many boyfriends. Henry was the first to come in her mouth. She liked the thrill of new sex. But he couldn't remember the last time...
She took him deep and he groaned softly. Her lips felt wonderful, the perfect combination of strong and supple. She circled the head of his cock with her tongue. He was getting closer, and he began moving his hips.
She put her hand on his balls and massaged them through the silk pajamas. The feeling was exquisite, smooth and hot at the same time. He thrust his hips and held her head down. She took him as deep as she could. He was close. Very close.
The pressure mounted in his balls and he felt the familiar tingling. He grunted once and held her head down. She groaned in surprise, but didn't push him away. Instead, she pumped him with her fist. He felt a jolt of intense pleasure as he spurted in her mouth.
When his orgasm finally subsided, he mumbled his thanks and told her he loved her. He hadn't said that in a while.
Henry opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling. Leanne was nestled beside him. He had his arm around her, and she had one of her legs thrown over his. She felt warm and soft and lithe, like when they were first married.
With a shock of realization, he came fully awake—Aly was beside him. Luckily, he didn't have his usual morning erection, despite his incredibly erotic dream. He tried to separate himself without waking her.
She stirred. "Mmm, what time is it?" she mumbled.
He glanced at the clock. "Six thirty-two."
He pulled from under her and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He stood up and immediately felt a draft. His fly was open. He looked down in shock. He tried to re-button his pajamas, but his fingers were trembling.
It was a dream, he told himself feverishly. It was all a dream.
Had Aly...? Had he...?
He rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. It felt cool against his back. His chest heaved from more than the effort of dashing across the room.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Aly called after him.
Oh, my God, he thought. What have I done?
Aly didn't say anything over breakfast, and neither did he. Before they were done, Tyler called with the news that the Ryder mechanic had arrived. A disconnected sense of calm settled over Henry as he focused on the truck instead of his other problems. He left the waitress a twenty and then he and Aly walked to the garage.
The Ryder mechanic quickly decided that the truck needed a new transmission. Henry and Tyler shared an irritated "We told you so" look. The new man slid from under the truck and wiped his hands.
"I'll have to pick one up in Amarillo," he said.
Henry barely restrained his anger. "Weren't you just in Amarillo? Couldn't you have brought one with you?"
The man shook his head. "I came from Oklahoma City." He looked sheepish. "You must've lit a fire under somebody, Mr. Adair," he said. "My boss told me to be here by nine o'clock, or else. I was on the road at six."
Good, Henry thought crossly. It's about time I got some good customer service. To the mechanic, he said, "Thank you. But I have a suggestion: why don't you call Amarillo and have them deliver a new transmission? It'll save time."
"Uh, yeah. I guess you're right. Dunno if anybody's in the shop on a Saturday, but I'll give it a try." The man wiped his hands again and took out his cell phone. "Yep," he said when he hung up, "you sure lit a fire under somebody."
Henry spent the rest of the morning in his hotel room, on the phone or on the computer. He had a grant proposal to write, a project budget to revise, and a thousand other things to keep him busy. Aly sat with him while he worked. She spent the time reading, or watching TV, or sending text messages on her phone.
When the Ryder mechanic finally finished, Henry thanked him and signed the repair receipt. Then he thanked Tyler—with quite a bit more goodwill.
"So," Henry asked, "how much do I owe you for everything?"
"Well, Hank," Tyler said, "the Ryder guy said they'd pay for the tow and the facilities. As for the rest..." He shrugged. "The office is free, and bein' friendly don't cost nothing, so... I don't guess you owe me anything at all."
"Nonsense," Henry said. He pulled out two hundred-dollar bills. "Will this cover it?"
"I told you—"
"Take it," Henry insisted. "In case Ryder is slow to pay."
Tyler reluctantly took the money. Then he shook Henry's hand. "You're okay, Hank," he said with a grin, "especially for a guy from LA."
"Didn't I tell you?" Henry said with a chuckle. "I was born and raised in San Antonio."
Tyler laughed. "A Texas boy? I knew it!"
Henry paid the hotel bill, and they were on the road by four o'clock. He didn't want to spend another night in a hotel with Aly—he didn't trust himself—but he didn't relish the sixteen hour drive from Texas to LA.
By midnight, his eyes were bleary and his shoulders ached. Aly talked him into spending the night in a motel. She even offered to check in while he parked the truck. She returned as he was gathering their bags.
"I got us one room," she said as she took her bag from him.
He should've argued, but he didn't have the energy. Besides, he couldn't exactly demand a second room, since he didn't want to hurt her feelings. His spirits rose when they got to the room and he saw the double beds. At least he wouldn't have to sl**p in the same bed with her. Her casual nudity still made him nervous, but it didn't shock him anymore. As for the rest...
"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked.
He nodded and tossed his things onto the nearest bed. He changed into his pajamas in the bathroom. When he emerged, Aly was washing her face at the sink. She was nude, so he let his eyes pass over her without stopping. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop himself from glancing back.
Her smooth pussy peeked from between her thighs. He quickly looked away, but the sight was burned into his brain. He felt something stir within him, so he quickly climbed into bed. It took him a long time to fall asl**p.
Henry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The heavy curtains screened the glow from the parking lot, but he could tell that it was much earlier than his usual six thirty. He blinked and wondered what had woken him. He felt a movement beside him, and his pulse raced.
She rolled over and d****d herself across him. She must have felt his tension, because she started to wake up.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"I don't know. Shouldn't you be in your own bed?"
"Mmm," she said, ignoring him, "you're warm."
He was fully awake now. He wanted to get up, to get away. He didn't have an erection, but with her body pressed against his, it was only a matter of time.
"Are you in the mood?" she asked.
Henry was struck by how grown-up she sounded. She certainly wasn't a little girl, but she sounded so matter-of-fact, so... comfortable with the idea that he might be aroused. The realization did what nature hadn't—he felt his penis swell and start to grow.
"Do you want me to take care of you?" she asked. Before he could say anything, she reached for his manhood and found it through his pajama bottoms. "Ooh, you are in the mood."
He carefully pulled her fingers away from his erection. If he'd had any doubts about whether or not he'd been dreaming the night before, he lost them in an instant.
"What's the matter?" she asked, more curious than discouraged.
"Aly, you shouldn't touch me there."
She snorted softly and reached for him again.
He pulled her hand away. "I'm serious, Alyson."
"Oh, Dad, don't be such a prude. It's all right. It's just oral."
"And you're 'just' my daughter. It's not right." His erection didn't agree.
"You thought it was all right last night," she accused.
He deliberately gathered his thoughts. "It wasn't all right," he said at last. "I thought I was dreaming..." It sounded feeble. He cleared his throat and continued, "I thought you were your mother."
"Do I give head like she does?"
"Alyson! I'm not going to answer that."
"Do I? She's had a lot more practice than I have... and with so many different men." She sounded spiteful, and it didn't suit her.
"Aly, you shouldn't say that. Besides, it's none of your business."
"Just what is my business, Dad?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she plowed ahead. "I love you, and I want to give you pleasure. What's wrong with that? We're both consenting adults. It's not like you're taking advantage of me. More like I'm taking advantage of you."
"Aly," he said deliberately, "we can't. We can't do what we did last night. We can't."
"Because you're my daughter." He could almost feel her roll her eyes.
"Dad, that's stupid. Who loves you more than I do? Mom? Ha! Kacy?"
Henry's heart raced at the thought of his older daughter seducing him. Kacy might be a jackal, but she did have a nice body. He liked Aly's better, but... He stopped himself before he went any further.
"Not likely," Aly finished. "Jayne loves you, but she's too afraid to do anything about it. Jordyn tried to seduce you, but you never did anything when she e-mailed those pictures."
"You knew about that?" he asked, surprised.
"Who do you think took the pictures, Dad? And whose idea was it to send them to you?"
"Of course. Jordyn's wanted to get busy with you since we were thirteen. Most of my friends think you're hot. We used to talk about you when they spent the night. Why do you think we wore such flimsy nighties when you were around? God, Dad... Half my friends wanted you to take their virginity."
His eyebrows shot up.
"I wanted you to take my virginity."
At that, he gaped.
"Instead... well... instead, I had sex with a boy. I don't like boys, Dad. I like men. I like you. I love you."
"I love you too," he answered automatically, "but—"
"Then why won't you let me please you?"
"Aly, we can't."
"Dad, we already have."
"But we can't do it again."
"Why not? I love you, and you love me. I love sex, and so do you. Don't try to deny it, Dad. I felt how you held my head down and thrust into my mouth last night."
"Aly, no," he said, overcome by guilt.
She reached for his erection and grasped it through the silk of his pajamas.
He wanted to jump out of bed. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to make her promise never to touch him again. He wanted to run.
"There," she said, "that's not so bad."
"Aly, no," he whispered, his voice harsh with tension.
She unbuttoned his fly and reached into it. He felt an electric thrill when she touched his manhood. Her hands were soft and gentle. She stroked him.
He swallowed hard. "We can't..."
"Shh," she whispered. Then she pulled back the covers.
He felt her breath on his cock. A moment later he felt her lips. He closed his eyes and tried not to groan. He could fool himself into thinking he'd been dreaming the night before, but now he was completely aware of what his daughter was doing. He still couldn't stop her.
"Oh, God," she said, low and eager, "I love your cock." She wrapped her lips around him again.
He closed his eyes. This isn't happening, he told himself. This is only a dream. But he knew the truth. His daughter was sucking his dick, and he hadn't done a thing to stop her.
"Take off your pajamas," she said.
He made a desultory attempt at unbuttoning his shirt, but then his hands fell limp. He couldn't stop her, but he wasn't going to help her, either.
She didn't need help. She pulled his bottoms down and tossed them aside. Then she pulled off her own skintight outfit. With a low groan of impatience, she swallowed his erection.
Henry closed his eyes and gulped. Her lips felt exquisite. She didn't have Leanne's experience, but she knew what she was doing. After a minute or two, he felt her shift. She tugged his hand to her hip. Then she wiggled suggestively. He didn't move, so she let his dick slip from her lips.
"Play with my pussy," she said. "That gets me hot like you wouldn't believe."
She started sucking him again, but he still didn't move. She took his hand and moved it for him. He felt the heat and moisture and he yearned to touch her, but he still had a shred of self-control. She wiggled her hips again.
"Play with me, Dad."
His self-control began to unravel. After a long moment he worked up the nerve to touch her pussy. She was hot and slippery. She groaned when he gently sawed his fingers along her slit.
"Oh, yeah," she panted, "that's it." She rocked her hips, forcing more of his hand against her.
He played with her clit, and she moaned softly. The sound vibrated through his dick as she sucked him. She bobbed for another minute or two. Then she released his dick and sat up. He thought she was going to stop sucking him. A tiny part of him felt relieved, but the rest of him railed in frustration. She swung her leg over his chest and straddled his face.
He couldn't see her pussy very well, but the smell of her arousal hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt his dick swell, and Aly groaned in surprise. She started sucking in earnest.
He stared up at her, his mouth watering with desire. He hadn't tasted a pussy in a long time, and one was staring him in the face. Its owner was his nineteen-year-old daughter, but at the moment, he didn't care. He licked her.
She moaned and ground her hips against his face. He tongued her clit, and she cried out. He smiled to himself and did it again. She let his dick slip from her lips, but he concentrated on her pussy.
He let his tongue wander through her folds, tasting her juices. Then he sucked her swollen inner lips, which made her gasp with the need for release. She tensed up, but he didn't relent. He kept licking as she quivered gently. Her spasms grew stronger, and she cried out. He lavished attention on her sensitive folds.
She went wild. Her belly heaved and he felt her holding on to his cock for dear life. Her thighs trembled and her whole body seemed to convulse. She cried out again, locked in the powerful current of an orgasm. He kept licking, driving her higher.
She finally collapsed atop him. He slowly came to his senses as well. He was still hard—very hard—and he smelled like pussy. His chest heaved from the exertion.
Aly stirred and managed to swing her leg over his shoulder. She collapsed beside him and panted. "Oh... my... God," she said at last. "That was the best orgasm I've had in... forever."
He started to say, "I'm glad you liked it," but then he remembered who he was talking to. "Aly, I...," he began. Then he fell silent. Confusion and shame overwhelmed him. But along with the other emotions, he felt a burning desire, and his balls ached for release.
"Oh, God," she said at last, "I need your cock." She rolled over and found his erection. She engulfed the crown and then swallowed the first few inches. Her lips tightened around him and she sucked gently. Then she drew back, her tongue trailing along the sensitive skin.
"Come in my mouth," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Hold my head and come in my mouth."
She started sucking again and Henry put his hand on her head. She groaned and bobbed up and down. He didn't last long. When he tensed up, she began stroking him. He pushed her head down and she moaned as the first spurt struck the back of her throat. A second spurt turned into a surge of pleasure.
The surges continued long after the gushes stopped. She let him slip from her lips when he grew soft. Then she turned and settled beside him.
"That was nice," she said, already sl**py. "I love you."
"I love you too."
They were quiet for a long time, and he eventually felt her breathing grow deep and regular.
He lay awake until the sun came up.
Henry gripped the steering wheel and thought—for the hundredth time—about what he wanted to say.
"Aly...," he said at last.
She sent her text message, snapped her phone shut, and looked at him expectantly.
"Aly," he began again, "we need to talk."
"Oh," she mocked, "this sounds serious."
"It's about this morning, isn't it?" He started to respond, but she cut him off. "Why are you so uptight about it, Dad? We're both consenting adults."
"It's still wrong," he said.
"It just is."
"But why? Why is it 'wrong' to have sex with someone who loves you?"
"Because you're my daughter, that's why."
"It's i****t, Alyson. And it's wrong."
"Interracial marriage used to be 'wrong,'" she said. "In the Fifties."
"This is different."
"It just is," he said stubbornly.
"That's the best you can come up with?" she said. "'It just is'?" She huffed. "C'mon, Dad, you're smarter than that."
He didn't rise to her baiting.
"It's only 'wrong' if you say it is. But what's wrong about it?"
He didn't have a good answer, so he kept his mouth shut.
"In the first place, you can't get me pregnant, so we don't have to worry about birth defects."
"That's not the only thing to worry about," he said obstinately. She wasn't going to win the argument simply because he'd had a vasectomy.
She ignored his objection. "In the second place," she continued, "I'm totally legal, so you don't have to worry about statutory ****. In the third place, you're not taking advantage of me. I'm a grown woman. I can decide for myself who I want to sl**p with. And finally, I wasn't planning to tell the whole world about our private lives. So we don't have to worry about some Republican DA trying to have us arrested."
"It's still wrong," he said.
"Why, Dad? Tell me why."
"It just is."
"So we're back to that again?" she said. "Didn't you teach me to think for myself? To 'use the brain God gave me'?" Her implication was obvious.
"This is different," he said. "I have thought about it, and it's wrong."
"So you've thought about us?"
He quickly backpedaled: "I didn't mean it like that."
"Then how did you mean it, Dad?" She looked at him for a moment and then set her jaw defiantly. "Okay, I'll drop the whole thing... on one condition."
"What?" he asked warily.
"Can you honestly tell me that you don't wanna have sex with me?"
He looked at her and thought about lying. It would be a lie, too. He'd spent the last hundred miles daydreaming about her.
She let the silence drag out.
"It's wrong, Alyson," he said at last.
She must have sensed his crumbling resolve, because she unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned close. After a moment to let the tension mount, she put her hand on his thigh.
The contact sent a jolt of excitement through him, and his penis stirred. "Alyson," he said hoarsely, "we can't ever repeat what we did last night."
"Yes, we can."
He was acutely aware of her presence—the heat of her body, the swell of her breasts, and a dozen other things that made every fiber of his being cry out to agree.
"We can do that and more," she said. "I want to do everything with you."
Against his will, he darted a glance at her.
"Yes, everything," she said. "I want to suck you. I want you to eat me. I want to feel your cock inside me. I want to feel you come inside me."
"Aly," he croaked, "do you have to use language like that?"
"Would it sound better if I used the proper words?" she asked. Then she smirked. "I want to fellate you. I want you to perform cunnilingus on me. I want to feel your penis inside me. I want to feel you ejaculate in my vagina. Is that what you want to hear, Dad?"
He swallowed hard.
"I'll say it however you like," she said. "I'll say whatever you want, as long as you fuck me." She mocked him with a look. "Excuse me, as long as you have intercourse with me."
"Hey, you wanted me to stop using 'language like that.'"
After a long pause, he said, "Aly, we can't..."
"Yes, we can," she whispered. "We can do it as often as we like." Her fingers slid up his leg and she brushed his trapped erection.
He wanted to pull her hand away, but he couldn't. It felt so good, so warm, so... right. He blinked in shock at the last thought and tried to clear his muddled brain. Fathers do not think of their daughters that way, he told himself sternly. Then he answered himself, But what if my daughter...? He glanced at her.
"I want you," she said, her voice husky with desire. "Can you pull over at the next exit?"
Emotions warred within him. He felt guilty for even considering the suggestion, but he also felt a thrill of excitement. Her arguments had begun to make sense. She couldn't get pregnant, and she was a grown woman, able to make decisions for herself. i****t was probably i*****l, but he had plenty of experience skirting the technicalities of the law. Besides, they weren't likely to tell anyone what they'd done.
Still, he felt a moment of guilt at the thought of having sex with his own daughter. He told himself that he was being irrational. He wanted to have sex with her, and she'd made some persuasive arguments. What could it hurt?
He made his decision.
When Aly saw his expression change, she made a sound of triumph. With practiced ease, she unfastened his chinos and extracted his hard-on. She stroked him gently. Her hand was warm and soft. With her free hand, she managed to pull off her panties. The scent of her arousal filled the truck's cab, and Henry's mouth began to water.
The next exit was a rest area, and Henry sped toward the truck and RV parking lot. The far corner was empty. Aly had her head in his lap before he even turned off the engine. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He wanted to fuck her, but he didn't want to do it in a truck cab. Aly seemed to have the same thought, because she didn't make a move to change positions. Instead, she played with her pussy while she sucked him.
She came before he did. He felt her tense up, and she groaned around his dick. Afterward, her nostrils bathed his shaft with cool air as she panted. When she caught her breath, she began sucking again.
He didn't last long. When she felt him swell in her mouth, she began stroking him. He clamped his eyes shut as the first spurt shot like a geyser from his shaft. She moaned and kept pumping. He spurted again and saw spots behind his closed eyes.
He eventually came to his senses and looked around, to make sure no one had seen them. The parking lot was just as it had been before. He stroked Aly's hair as he caught his breath.
She sucked him until he grew too soft. Then she sat up and wiped the corners of her mouth. She grinned. Her face was flushed and her hair had come undone, but she looked beautiful. She closed her eyes and moistened her lips, tasting him.
"Mmm," she breathed. "I like it when you come in my mouth." She opened her eyes, and they flashed with an intensity that almost scared him. "I can't wait to feel you come inside me."
He f***ed a smile and tried to suppress a wave of guilt. He wasn't successful, but the thought of fucking her was enough to run roughshod over any objections he might have left.
Henry turned into his driveway and pulled around the circle. He stretched the kinks from his muscles as he walked to the front door. Inside, the housekeeper emerged at the sound of the security system beep. She pulled up short when she saw him. Then she smiled, friendly but deferential. When she looked past him, her smile turned into genuine affection.
"Oh, Miss Aly, you home!"
"It's good to be home, Marisela," Aly said as they hugged.
Marisela clucked and eyed the girl critically. "You still so thin. They no feed you in Virginia?"
"Of course they do, Marisela, but I want to look good for men."
"Men? Is that why you no eat? Miss Aly, men no want skin and bones..."
Henry left the two women talking and headed toward his office suite. The majority of the house was Leanne's to decorate (and redecorate) as she saw fit, but the west wing was his private domain. It had been designed as a music studio—the idiot movie star had delusions of being a rock star, too—but Henry had it gutted when he bought the place.
He'd kept the studio's original soundproofing, but little else. Rich wood paneling and thick Persian carpets replaced the garish colors and cheesy shag carpeting. Leather couches and chairs supplanted the Seventies furniture. And the sound equipment was in a real recording studio in the Valley.
Now, the suite was wired with everything a modern executive needed, from phones to broadband to satellite TV. It also had the sophisticated security system, of course, with its cabinet of monitors and digital video recorders. It even had a full bath and kitchenette. Last but not least, it had a small bedroom, where Henry could spend the night when he worked late.
The suite had only one entrance, through the media room. Henry usually left the door open when he was working at home, but he kept it locked the rest of the time. Marisela had her own entry code, but she only entered to clean. Leanne didn't have a code, and Henry had made it clear to Marisela that he'd fire her if she ever gave her code to Leanne.
At the thought, Henry grinned. Marisela didn't like Leanne—the housekeeper knew about Leanne's affairs—so he wasn't worried about the code. Leanne had wanted to fire Marisela at least a dozen times over the past years, but Henry had put his foot down. It was his house, and he paid the bills. Leanne had gotten used to the situation, but she still resented it. Henry didn't care anymore. Good housekeepers were hard to find, especially loyal ones, so Marisela would always have a job with Henry.
He punched his code into the keypad and entered the office suite. He checked his computer and then opened the security system cabinet. Aly and Marisela were still talking in the foyer. He watched them for a moment and then smiled. Aly had her mother's beauty, but nothing of her personality, thank God.
For a moment he wondered if he would've been as attracted to Aly if she were more like Leanne or Kacy. Somehow, he doubted it. He'd learned a lot since the pure lust of his early marriage. Leanne might be sexy and attractive—both then and now—but she was also a scheming, manipulative, unfaithful, shallow...
He balled his fists and willed himself to relax. Aly was none of those things. She might look like Leanne, but the similarities ended there. He watched Aly for a moment longer. His eyes were drawn to her breasts, braless under her tight T-shirt. She was too thin, but if she filled out like Leanne had... He smiled and shook off a fantasy.
Aly and Marisela were still talking when he returned to the foyer.
"Are we ready to unload?" he prompted.
"Sure," Aly said.
"You want dinner for when you done, Mr. Henry?" Marisela asked.
"Please. How about your famous pork empanadas?"
Aly gave him a hard look. "And what about your cholesterol?"
Marisela said, "I try to take good care of him, Miss Aly, but..." She shrugged helplessly.
"I thought we were on vacation?" Henry protested.
Aly's eyes flashed, and she smirked. "All right. Since tonight is special..."
He felt his face flush. Fortunately, Marisela couldn't know what Aly really meant.
"Okay, Mr. Henry," the housekeeper said, "I make you empanadas."
Henry rolled his eyes at Aly's audacity. "Come on," he said.
It took them an hour to unload the truck. Most of her things went to her bedroom, and she piled the rest in the upstairs rec room.
"Do we have time to get cleaned up before dinner?" Henry called to Marisela when they finished.
A mouth-watering aroma followed her out of the kitchen. "Thirty minutes," she said.
Henry nodded. Upstairs, he left his clothes in a trail on the bathroom floor. The hot shower stung his shoulders, but he simply stood under it for a minute or two. Then he heard the bathroom door open. For a moment he felt an irrational fear that Leanne had returned early. She was supposed to be in San Diego with Kacy, but...
Aly opened the steam-clouded shower door.
A wave of desire washed over him, but then he felt another stab of fear: what if Marisela came upstairs? He relaxed almost immediately. First, Marisela was busy in the kitchen. Second, she never came into the bedroom when he or Leanne were there.
Aly drew his mind back to the present. "I thought I'd join you," she said. She shut the door behind her and squirted soap in her palm. As she lathered his chest, he watched her steam-slick breasts move. His penis jerked and began to stiffen.
She teased him with a surprised look. "Is that for me?"
She ran soap-slick hands over his shaft and then washed his testicles. By the time she returned to his dick, he was completely hard. She stroked him for a moment, her eyes riveted to his erection. Then she gazed up at him. She closed her eyes and parted her lips. With a soapy hand, she drew him down for a kiss.
At first, he rebelled against the intimacy. A kiss was so... personal. But then he silently laughed at himself. He was willing to have sex with his own daughter, but he balked at a kiss? Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer. Her slippery body felt oh-so-good against his.
When she finally broke the kiss, she whispered, "I can't wait to fuck you."
She squeezed his dick. Then she gently pushed him under the steaming shower and rinsed the soap from his body. When she was done, she pulled his hands to her breasts. Her nipples grew stiff as he tweaked them.
"Oh, that's nice," she said. "I like your hands on me." She closed her eyes and stroked his erection. They stood like that for almost a minute. "Do you want to wash me?" she said at last.
He smiled in reply. She squirted soap into his hand, and he began to lather her. Her skin felt young and smooth, and he reeled with another wave of arousal. Aly turned and pressed her ass against his hard-on. She looked over her shoulder and bit her lip, playing the seductive vixen.
"Do you want to fuck me here?" she said.
He almost snorted at her audacity. Then he felt a moment of uncertainty. A blowjob was one thing, but sex was another thing entirely. Could he actually go through with it? He wanted to, but still...
Aly sensed his hesitation. "Don't worry, Dad," she said, "we have all the time in the world. Mom won't be home till Wednesday, right?"
"So that gives us two days."
He nodded again.
"You can give Marisela a couple of days off, and we can do whatever we want." She waggled her eyebrows. "I have some totally hot fantasies about where I want to do it."
He didn't argue—not with her nubile body pressed against him. He felt a flicker of guilt at what he wanted to do, but he quickly suppressed it. He'd already made his decision, and he was willing to live with it. i****t might be worse than adultery, but Leanne had broken their wedding vows long ago. He had a lot of catching up to do.
Aly sensed his distraction. "Come on," she said, "Marisela should have dinner about ready." She turned off the water and opened the shower door. Steam billowed out as she reached for the towels.
Henry watched Aly dry herself, and his erection returned. She reached for him with a grin. He closed his eyes as she began sucking him. She pulled back after only a minute. Her eyes sparkled.
"Later," she said. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then she giggled and dropped her towel.
He watched her bare ass as she sauntered from the room. When she was gone, he stared into space, reliving the last few minutes. Eventually, he turned away and blinked to clear his head. His erection softened as he shaved, so he donned a loose warm-up suit and headed downstairs.
He found Aly in the kitchen. She was bent over the island, speaking Spanish with Marisela. The housekeeper stood at the stove, with her back to the room. Aly looked over her shoulder when she heard him. Her eyes flashed and she casually lifted her skirt. She wasn't wearing panties.
Henry let his gaze roam over her narrow hips and smooth ass, but his eyes were drawn to her pussy. She reached between her legs and ran a finger along her slit. He was hard in an instant, and he regretted wearing something so loose that it showed.
"Almost ready, Mr. Henry," Marisela said over her shoulder.
Aly grinned at him and then returned to her conversation with the housekeeper. Henry spoke a few words of Spanish, but he couldn't follow their conversation. Besides, he was distracted by Aly—her pussy flashed pink as she spread her moisture.
"Okay, ready," Marisela said at last, startling Henry out of his erotic stupor.
He and Aly ate dinner on the patio. The evening was still relatively warm, but a cool breeze picked up as the sun slid toward the horizon. Marisela cleaned up the dinner dishes and then reappeared at the patio door.
"Do you need anything before I go, Mr. Henry?"
Henry shook his head. "Thanks again for coming to work today." he said. She usually had weekends off. "Why don't you take tomorrow off," he added, as casually as he could.
Aly cleared her throat softly.
"And Tuesday," he added. Marisela dithered for a moment, and Henry immediately understood the reason. "With pay, of course," he said. When she relaxed, he said, "It's the least I can do."
She thanked him and left. As soon as she was gone, he felt Aly's foot at his crotch. She smirked and burrowed her toes under his semi-hard dick. It swelled immediately, and her expression turned smug. Then she tugged her skirt up and bared her pussy. Without a word, she began playing with herself.
"Do you want to go upstairs?" she finally asked.
A part of him wanted to fuck her right there on the patio table. Another part wanted to wait until his dinner settled. A third part—smaller and quieter—still rebelled at the idea of having sex with his own daughter.
She spread her legs and inserted a finger. Then she held his eyes as she tasted her own juices. All the while, her foot never stopped teasing his erection.
Why shouldn't I have sex with her? he thought. She wants it as much as I do. More! Why should I live like a monk when Leanne fucks anything with a dick? The seething anger killed his erection, but his lingering guilt died as well. It was a silent, unlamented death. "Why don't we watch a movie or something," he finally suggested.
"But I want you."
"I need to let my dinner settle," he half-lied.
In the media room, Aly flopped onto the couch and he sat next to her, close but not touching. She scooted closer and he caught a whiff of her perfume. His nostrils flared with arousal.
"What do you want to watch?" she asked. Before he could answer, she turned to the Playboy Channel. It was showing "Naughty College School Girls 15."
"Works for me," Henry said.
Aly pressed herself against him and set the remote aside. They watched in silence.
"Wow, she's hot," Aly said at last.
The girl onscreen was blonde and thin, with fake boobs. Her pussy was completely shaved, and she wore a glittering pendant in her navel. She looked like a slutty version of Kacy.
"Normally, I don't like fake tits," Aly continued, "but so many women have 'em these days. Hers are pretty nice, don't you think?" When the scene switched to another girl—also shaved—Aly lifted a foot to the couch. She pulled up her skirt and casually regarded her sparse pubic hair. "Do you think I should go bare down there?"
"I think you should keep some pubic hair," Henry said. "I don't like the little girl look." He snorted with silent laughter. Maybe he didn't like the little girl look because he didn't want to think of his daughter as a little girl.
Can I actually do it? he asked himself one final time. Can I actually have sex with her?
He loved her, and he didn't want to screw up her life. But she had seduced him, not the other way around. He could've put a stop to things before they'd gone too far, but with brutal honesty, he admitted that he never really wanted to stop her. He'd been horny and starved for attention.
He blamed Leanne. If she hadn't been such a cold bitch... He drew a deep breath and tried to relax. If Leanne hadn't cut him off, he wouldn't have been so horny.
But no! She spreads her legs for everyone but me, he thought viciously. Fucking c— He balled his fists and ground his teeth.
"What's wrong?" Aly said.
"Nothing," he lied. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his poisoned thoughts.
Aly helped by distracting him—she talked about the girls onscreen. She liked blondes the most, but she didn't seem all that picky. She also liked girls with smaller breasts, which was no surprise. She liked the shaved look, although she really got excited by a redhead with her pubic hair trimmed into a heart shape.
"Don't you think that's sexy?"
He nodded. His erection had returned full-f***e, and it made an obvious bulge in his loose warm-ups. Without a word, Aly freed his manhood. She descended on it with a soft moan.
Her lips wrapped around the head. Henry closed his eyes and rested his hand on the back of her head. Aly bobbed gently for several minutes, her lips smooth and soft. Henry felt like he was in a trance—he still sensed the world around him, but it was fuzzy and soft. His daughter was giving him a blowjob, and he didn't see anything wrong with that. He wanted to fuck her, and he didn't see anything wrong with that either.
"Let's go upstairs," Aly said at last, breaking the spell.
He nodded absently.
"I want to do it in your bed."
That got through to him, and he shook his head.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"We can't," Henry said. "Not there."
"Why not? It's not like you and Mom—"
"That's not the point, Aly," he said. He shook his head again, firmly. "Not there."
"Okay," Aly said, "then my bed."
"Not there either."
"Dad, you're killing my best fantasies" she said, a bit perturbed. "Okay, how about your office?"
He nodded. The door was still open from earlier, and she inhaled as soon as she walked into the suite.
"When I was a little girl," she said, "I loved the smell of this place. Leather... wood... your cologne." She inhaled again and skipped down the hall. Her skirt flew up as she twirled at the door to his office. She became coquettish. "Do you want to do it on your desk?"
Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared through the doorway. When he reached the office, she was sitting on his desk and kicking her feet girlishly. She spread her legs and beckoned. His mouth watered at the thought of going down on her. She must've had the same thought, because she lifted her skirt and bared her pussy.
Henry knelt before her and put his hands on her inner thighs. Her skin was soft and smooth. He inhaled the aroma of her arousal. Then he flicked his tongue over her slit and tasted her. She gasped and her belly rippled.
"Oh, God," she hissed, her fingers twined through his hair. She hissed again, her stomach quivering as he licked her folds.
Her skirt bunched at her waist and he pushed it out of the way as he cupped her ass and lifted her hips. He circled her clit with his tongue and she cried out softly.
He licked and sucked until he felt her tense up. Then he inserted a finger and pressed her G-spot. Her hips bucked, but he continued licking. She bucked again, but then sat up and pushed him away. She hadn't come. His brow furrowed with confusion.
"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me, please. I want to come with you inside me."
He stood and unzipped his warm-up jacket. He tossed it aside and lowered the pants. He aimed his erection at Aly's pink and glistening slit. She tugged him forward and rubbed the head over her opening. Then she moved her hips and he was inside her.
The shock of it hit him like a blow. He was inside his own daughter! He was fucking her.
Without so much as a glimmer of guilt, he slid into her. He stopped when his hips pressed against the desk. She scooted toward him and groaned as he filled her completely.
"Oh, God," she gasped, "fuck me."
The words rang in his ears and the world faded to the background. Heat and moisture surrounded his cock. After more than a year of f***ed abstinence, his senses reeled with pure pleasure.
With Aly urging him on, he began thrusting. His hips slapped her thighs, filling the room with the sounds of sex. She lay back on the desk. Then she lifted her shirt and bared her breasts. Her nipples bounced with each thrust. He lowered his lips and captured one. She hissed as he nibbled gently.
The pressure built in his balls and he lifted his head from Aly's chest. She pulled his face up and kissed him long and deep, her tongue sparring with his.
After a moment she broke the kiss and groaned as he filled her again. "Fuck me," she panted. "Come inside me. Fill me with come."
He pushed himself up and concentrated on fucking her. She tugged at him, as if trying to get him to fuck her faster. He was going as fast as he could—the staccato sounds of his thrusts sounded like a person applauding.
He felt a rush of heat and moisture as her pussy clenched him. Her eyes rolled back and she frantically tugged at her nipples. He kept pounding into her. His own climax was close, and his balls felt tight with the need for release. He groaned, low and guttural.
"Oh, God, yes!" Aly screamed. Her pussy clenched again.
With a final lunge, he buried himself as deep as he could and felt an explosion of pleasure. The sensation spread outward and engulfed him. He clamped his eyes shut and saw stars. Beneath him, Aly heaved in the final throes of her own orgasm.
When Henry finally came to his senses, he was panting. Aly was too, but she gazed up at him with a look of satisfaction. His dick eventually went soft within her, and she made a moue as it slipped out. He smiled in apology. After all, he wasn't a twenty-year-old anymore.
She smiled. "I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart." A pang of guilt speared him, but he ignored it. Aly was an adult. They were both adults.
"Do you want to go for a swim to cool off?" she asked.
"And then maybe afterward," she suggested, "we can go up to my room."
He shook his head.
She pouted. "Why not?"
"One taboo at a time, Aly," he said.
Her expression brightened. "Tomorrow night?"
Something within him stirred at the thought. "Maybe."
The next day, Henry returned from work to find Aly in a classic little black dress. It clung to her lithe body and barely covered her ass. She had dinner ready, and she'd set two places at the end of the big mahogany table in the formal dining room. She even had candles and a bottle of wine.
"I thought we should celebrate," she said.
He'd begun to feel guilty about what they'd done. "Celebrate what?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh, don't worry," she said. "I'm not in love with you or anything. I mean, I love you, but..." She looked exasperated for a moment. "I'm not going all romantic or anything. I just want you to fuck me."
When her words registered, he forgot his guilt. "Do you always talk like this?"
She smirked. "Only with my boyfriend."
"Aly, I'm not your boyfriend."
"Okay," she said. "Only with the man I'm fucking at the time."
"Do you have to use that word?"
"Fuck?" she asked. "What's wrong with it? It's what we're doing."
"Aly, we're not... 'fucking.'"
She grinned at his discomfort. "Then what're we doing, Dad?"
He set his jaw.
"Since Mom's not going to give you what you need, you should get it from somewhere. It's not healthy to go without sex. That's where I come in."
"So I'm like a summer internship?" he asked, his feelings unexpectedly bruised.
She moved close and pressed herself against him. "No, Dad, it's nothing like that." Her eyes softened. "I love you."
"I love you too, kitten, but—"
"I've always had the hots for you, Dad. I told you, I wanted you to take my virginity. But I'm not a girl anymore. I have needs. You do too. So why can't we take care of each other? We love each other, right?"
"And this is what people do when they love each other," she said. She sounded reasonable. Seductively reasonable. "I want to make you feel good. And you definitely make me feel good." She smiled and nodded toward the place settings. "So I thought we should celebrate our new relationship."
"We're lovers," she said simply.
"Alyson, we're not lovers."
"I love you. You love me. I want to fuck you. You want to fuck me. That sounds like lovers to me, Dad."
"Do you have to keep using that word?"
"Fuck," she said deliberately. "I want to fuck you, Dad. And I'm not the only one. I was telling Jordyn about last night, and—"
"You did what?"
"I told Jordyn," she said without blinking.
He was dumbstruck.
"Don't worry, she won't tell anyone." She pulled away and began serving their dinner. She talked casually, as if the conversation were an everyday chat. "She's totally hot for you. She wanted to come over tonight, but I told her some other time. She wants to do it on your desk, like you—"
Henry recovered from his shock. "You told her, Aly? What in God's name were you thinking?"
"Relax, Dad," Aly said. "She's known all along. Who did you think I was texting the whole time we were waiting for the mechanic?"
Her phone, he thought. The text messages. The realization hit him and he felt his breath go out.
"She was the one who suggested the handjob with the massage. I was going to let you catch me masturbating."
His eyes flew wide.
"Her idea was better, though." She shrugged unapologetically.
"So you were planning this all along?"
"Not the breakdown part," she said, "but everything else."
"Oh, Dad, don't be a prude. I've wanted to fuck you since I first realized what sex was."
"Do you have to keep saying that?"
"'Fuck,' Dad. It's just a word. Now, let's eat before it gets cold."
He ate mechanically. His thoughts were a chaotic mess. If Aly and Jordyn had planned the whole thing...? Who else had she told? What if someone found out?
"I thought we could watch some TV after dinner," Aly said innocuously. "And then maybe we can go for a swim once it gets dark. I like skinny dipping with you. It makes me horny thinking about nothing between me and your cock but the water."
"Do you have to use that word, too?"
"What word? 'Cock'?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dad, it's just a word. Besides, I like the sound of it." She grinned. "I like the feel of it better, but..." She took a sip of wine and gazed at him over the rim of her glass. "Will you relax, Dad? We can talk about sex like two adults, you know? I'm not a little girl anymore." She grinned smugly. "Jordyn said you'd be like this."
He glared a question at her.
"She said it'd take you a while to get used to it." Aly waved her wine glass. "I mean, I've had a long time to get used to the idea of fucking my own father."
"Aly, please," he said. "Show some decorum."
She set her wine glass down and turned serious. "I'm sorry, Dad. If you don't want me to say it, I won't say it."
He compromised: "Just don't say it as often."
She smiled. "I still want to do it, though. I want to do it as often as we can. We'll have to be careful when Mom gets home, but I think we can manage at least once a day."
"Once a day?"
She nodded casually. "I really want it more than that, but I don't know if we'll be able to manage."
"You want more...?"
"Mmm hmm. We'll figure something out," she said, her mind already working. Then she drew her eyes back to the table and set her wine glass down. "In the meantime, would you like an after-dinner blowjob?"
He blinked at her nonchalance.
She misunderstood and began to frown.
He smiled. "Maybe a little later," he suggested, "in the pool."
Her eyes lit up. "And then afterward," she said, "can we have sex in my bed?"
"Please, Dad? You don't know how hot that makes me. I promise you'll enjoy it. Please?"
He hesitated a moment longer, but his dick was already growing stiff at the thought.
She sensed his crumbling resolve and broke into a smile. "We're going to have fun this summer," she gushed. "Jordyn and I are going to fuck your brains out. You'll love her. She's..."
She chattered as they carried their plates back to the kitchen.
Henry's nascent erection turned into a full-blown hard-on, and he wondered if he'd be able to last until they went swimming.
"Oh, God, Dad," Aly said at last. "I so can't wait to fuck you." With that, she pressed herself against him and rubbed his hard-on through his suit pants. Then she turned and bent over the breakfast counter. When she looked over her shoulder, her expression could've melted the polar ice caps. She tugged her dress up. She wasn't wearing panties.
Henry's last shreds of his remorse vanished in a fog of arousal.
She moaned as he entered her from behind. She was hot and wet and oh-so-tight. "Oh, God," she groaned. "We're going to have so much fun this summer."