“Fuck yes,” he breathes, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. He fists it, holding it at the ready and directs it towards my mouth.
It looks surprisingly unremarkable, somehow less than I expected even though I’ve only ever seen Dante’s cock, but I bend forward and lick my lips before taking it in my mouth.
“Yes,” he breathes, pumping himself back and forth in a way that catches me off guard and throws off my rhythm. I wrap a hand around his shaft to hold him in place, but he just thrusts harder against my hand, until I feel like a helpless participant in something I’m not actually needed for. I press down with my hand, trying to be subtle but regain control so I can do my thing.
He puts a hand around the back of my head. “I’m going to come really soon,” he groans, and it sounds more like a plea for patience than dirty talk. He pumps himself harder and faster into my mouth and I give up trying, freezing in place uselessly while he uses my mouth.
For a moment the only sound is a wet slapping, punctuated by Kye’s heavy breathing, until a furious booming voice splits the air.
“Hazel!”
Panic jolts through me so fast I almost bite down on Kye’s dick as I whip my head around. Kye swears in shock and I can hear him fumbling to zip up his pants.
My stepdad is standing in the doorway of the den, a terrifying look of holy hellfire on his face. I’ve never seen him look so angry in my life. A muscle is jumping in his jaw, his eyes are flinty and hard, and he actually looks…dangerous.
“Dad!” The blood drains from my face. I was paying at least partial attention to any sounds that might alert me to his arrival. His perfectly designed house must be so soundproof there wasn’t even so much as a creak when he walked down the stairs to the basement.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland!” Kye blurts out, addressing Xavier by my last name. There’s more fumbling, and maybe the sound of him standing up, but I still can’t take my eyes off Xavier.
“Upstairs, right now,” says Xavier, in a murderously cold voice. “Both of you.”
He turns and heads up the stairs without another word and I get up to follow him without looking back.
“Dad,” I plead as I climb the stairs after him. “I’m sorry.”
He ignores me, stalking up the staircase to the first floor and striding across the living room floor.
I can’t remember the last time I was so mortified. My rib cage is imploding, suffocating my lungs. My stepdad just caught me giving a blowjob. I’m mortified for myself, mortified for Kye, even mortified for Xavier. I’m mortified that I was caught in a lie in the worst way-not only because Kye did come over, but because I’d also sworn that nothing would happen. Shame is coming at me from every direction.
Xavier turns to wait for us at the entrance hallway. Behind me, Kye’s footsteps are rapid and surprisingly light.
“Time to go, son,” says Xavier, folding his arms over his chest as Kye scurries past him and picks up his shoes.
“Right. Yes. I’m really sorry, again, sir,” he gushes. “I’ll, um, I’ll call you, Hazel.”
He swings the door open and waves to me weakly before letting it close behind him with a solid, perfectly-weighted click. Xavier’s eyes shift to me.
He wasn’t even this mad when I took the Jaguar out without asking when I was sixteen. His nostrils flare, and his chest heaves under the weight of his arms.
“Dad, I’m sorry!” Tears are threatening.
His eyes widen, blazing furiously. “How dare you?” he bites out, unfolding his arms and pointing a finger at me. “I was very clear that he was not to come over, Hazel, and I come home to find you…to find you-”
“It just…kind of happened!” Everything I say sounds whiny and plaintive, but I feel frantic. This could be the worst thing I’ve ever done. What if Xavier is so disgusted with me he can never forgive me? What if he kicks me out of his house? Where will I go then?
He takes a step towards me and his face is so thunderous I instinctively step back, feeling my heel hit the wall behind me. “Just kind of happened?” His face is right up in mine. “Was it just an accident, then? You fell to your knees?”
I blink, my breath coming quickly. I’m not sure what to say, and I’ve never seen him so angry.
It’s scary.
A muscle in his jaw jumps as he glares at me, his breath coming as quickly as mine; I can feel it in front of my face.
He places a hand against the wall, leaning closer. “Do you think I want to see that?”
“No, Daddy,” I shake my head. It’s been so long since Xavier was mad at me it’s evoking something childlike in me. Daddy.
“Do you know how that makes me feel?”
Chapter 15
I shake my head again. His body is so close I can feel the heat coming off it, the sheer size and power of him overwhelming me as he closes off the space around me, and all I can think is that he’s so much bigger than Kye.
Bigger than Kye, probably, everywhere.
I flush hotly at the thought.
He doesn’t say anything and I keep my gaze lowered, afraid to look him in the eye. I’m excruciatingly conscious of his chest rising and falling, and the familiar and soapy smell of him. For a split second, I wonder how I would feel if I walked in on him in the same situation. If I walked into a room to find some woman on her knees in front of him?
Then I wonder, would he pump himself hard and thoughtlessly into her mouth until she felt like she was barely participating, or would it be slow and erotic with him?
That I would even wonder about that is so shameful, on top of everything that’s already happened tonight, that my cheeks burn as heat crawls up my neck.
As if he can sense my shifting discomfort, Xavier pulls away, dropping his arm. Cooler air seems to pass between us.
“Go to your room. You’re grounded.”
“Dad!” I can’t hide my outrage. I broke his rules, and I shocked him with my behaviour, but I’m not a child anymore. My eyes dart upwards to his. “I’m going to be eighteen next week!”
“I don’t care how old you’re going to be, you better get up to that room right now, Hazel. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”
Hot tears sting at my eyes-tears that I don’t want him to see. Tears of frustration. Tears of shame. I spin on my heel and stomp angrily across the room, taking the stairs two at a time. By the time I reach the second floor, a powerful sob breaks through me. I run into my room and try to slam the large, heavy door. It sweeps evenly and smoothly across the cement floor, resisting the force I exert on it, and closes in peaceful silence.
When I was a kid, Xavier was a demi-god to me. I loved my mother-I didn’t really start to compute how off the rails she was until I was twelve-but Xavier especially could do no wrong.
My mother was the fun one, the artistic one, the wild one. She encouraged me to do whatever I wanted, to be whatever I wanted. Xavier set all the rules.
But I loved his structure and his reliability. When we moved in with Xavier, I started having dinner every night. I had a bedtime routine for the first time in my life. I loved the way he would tuck me in and read me a story and kiss me on my forehead right between my eyebrows. Sometimes my mother was there, sometimes she wasn’t. But once Xavier came into my life, everything became stable…at least for eight years, until Melanie had to blow it all up.
That stability, that rigidity that I loved, I needed it as a kid. It was security in a frightening world. But a lot has happened in the past year. I’m not a kid anymore, and I’ve gone a long time without living by anybody’s rules.
I shift onto my stomach and stare at my phone. It’s been an hour, and Kye lives less than ten minutes away. I thought he might have texted.
Sorry, I finally text him, and then stare at my phone awhile, willing him to text back. Nothing happens. I put the phone down and roll over onto my back with a sigh.
Maybe rules are just what I need. One moment I had Kye Knight’s dick in my mouth and the next I was wishing it was my stepfather’s. It’s not normal to think that way, but as I remember Xavier leaning over me the feeling comes right back. The heat and the tension; how desire had me so possessed it felt like one more second was all it would take to make me do something impulsive and crazy.
Like lean forward and kiss him.
And then I think the most fucked-up thing. He’s kissed my mom a thousand times. In all that time, I wonder, did he ever think about what it would be like to kiss me?