He doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, and I part my lips slightly to take in a breath. That’s when I feel his hand come around my back, and the unthinkable happens.
He kisses me back.
Long, slow, and languorous, his mouth moves over mine until our lips part and I feel his tongue stroke into my mouth.
It’s crazy. It’s unthinkable. And it’s so sweet, I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. He moves slowly, kissing me tenderly, but there’s an urgency in the firmness of his hand against my back and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. My body roars to life, heat spreading over my skin and rushing down between my legs.
With his other hand, he cups the back of my neck, threading fingers into my pinned up hair, and when I tilt my hips, intending to straddle his lap, he helps lift me. Melanie’s sheath dress rolls up my thighs as I place one on either side of Xavier, so that I can feel his crotch through the thin layer of my panties and my legs are fully exposed. I’m wearing the last pair of Melanie’s panties that he has yet to confiscate-the pair I had on when he took away the others.
He runs his hands up my thighs and the touch of his palms against my skin feels electric.
“Dad,” I murmur without thinking, and immediately wish I’d thought of any other word to say. But Xavier doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Hazel,” he murmurs back, covering my mouth with kisses and squeezing the tops of my thighs. “Oh, sweetheart.” He pulls me down against him and the growing need between my legs makes me arch my back and roll my hips until I’m pressing my crotch against him, and he’s hard-my stepfather is hard-and soon I’m breathless as the friction arouses me.
“Careful, little girl,” he warns. He lifts his hands to my upper arms and in one swift motion has me up off his lap and on my back on the couch. His face hovering over mine is lit up and lustful, a smile playing in his eyes. “You’re going to make me lose control.”
With one hand, he grabs the top of Melanie’s strapless sheath dress and pulls it down, exposing my breasts, and a shock of arousal goes through me. I want this. I want him to see me. But it’s still new and overwhelming.
“Fuck, Hazel,” he says under his breath, staring at my chest as if he wasn’t expecting this. “Fuck.” With slow reverence, he palms a breast, massaging the weight of it, and then rubs his thumb over my nipple. It pebbles under his touch.
He raises his eyes at me, looking pained and speechless. His mouth falls open. And with a sharp exhale, he leans back, up and away from me, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back down at me and pulling my dress back up over my breasts.
“Hazel.” When he says it this time, it’s different than it was before. Less desperate and amazed. This time it’s solemn and resolute. He sits up and lifts my legs by the ankles, dropping them on the floor so I’m forced to sit up. Then he scrubs his face with his hands.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs into his hands. “I’m sorry.”
He stands up and picks the champagne glasses up off the coffee table before walking away. Mine is still half full. From the kitchen he says, “You should probably go to bed, sweetheart.”
“Dad!” I plead. “Xavier…”
“Now, Hazel.” He looks at me with a heavy, pained look on his face. “Please just go to your room.”
“No!” It can’t end like this. I don’t know what happened. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?
“Just go to your fucking room.” He raises his voice. He sounds tense and agitated. “Now please.”
I get off the couch quickly and close the distance to the staircase, suddenly eager to get away.
“You did it, too!” I cry out as I run up the stairs. It’s the only thing I can think of to say, and it feels real and true. “You did it, too!”