Mon dieu. “I thought you said you were sore.”
She nods. “I don’t care. If I have to sit through dinner with Melanie pretending that everything is perfectly normal between us, I at least want the pain to remind me that you secretly fucked me in the bathroom.”
It’s hopeless. My dick is hard already, throbbing in my pants. How has Hazel become such a filthy little girl so quickly? I’m equally shocked and turned on at the forbidden scenario she’s imagining. The one thing I can’t bring myself to tell her is that her mother has already guessed it-and doesn’t care. That, more than anything, is something I never want Hazel to know.
“Turn around and put your hands on the counter,” I say in a low voice, turning off the water and unzipping my pants. I stand behind her, lining my cock up with her entrance and lean forward to murmur in her ear. “You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you? You want me to fuck you while Mommy’s downstairs?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers. I squeeze a hand around her hip as I push into her, and the tight, wet feel of her has me seeing stars already. She’s so wet, swollen and aching for me already, and my dick twitches and strains inside of her. She feels fucking amazing.
“Do you like knowing that Daddy wants to fuck you instead of Mommy?” I ask her. “Is that what you like? Do you like knowing that Daddy loves your tight little pussy like no other?”
“Yes,” she breathes, pushing back against me. “Oh God, that feels so good.”
“It feels so good for me too, baby.” I move a hand around to her front, sliding fingers over her smooth mound until I find the top of her slit, then I wriggle in deeper until I’m stroking the top of her clit.
“Oh, that’s good, Daddy,” she gasps. “Daddy, you make me feel so good.”
“Yes, baby,” I growl in her ear. “You make Daddy feel so good, too. It feels so good being deep inside my little girl, knowing I’m going to come right inside her tight pussy. You feel so good for Daddy, baby. You feel so good.”
I keep fingering her clit in gentle circles until her pussy clamps down around me. It’s almost unthinkable that she could be any tighter and I grunt helplessly as I start thrusting harder, the wet friction sending me right out of my mind.
“Oh, Daddy!” she cries.
“Quiet, baby!” I say quickly, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You need to be quiet. We don’t want Mommy to hear us.”
“Oh,” she cries against my hand. “Oh!”
Her cunt squeezes down on me just as I go over the edge, the pulsing motion of her orgasm milking me as I shoot into her. I moan loudly, unable to control myself, and drop my hand from her mouth.
My orgasm seems to go on forever, my dick jerking and squirting inside of her, and I wrap an arm around her torso and pull her closely against me until I’m finally spent, then I drop onto her back for a moment and breathe in the scent of her bare skin.
“Sweetie,” I murmur. “That was just what I needed. God, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispers back. “I love you, too.”
Dinner is spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread-a fancy meal by Melanie’s standards. She presents it with a flourish when Hazel and I both descend to the table.
“Dinner is served!” she says dramatically, and lifts the bottle of wine she’s uncorked and pours it generously into three glasses. It’s a bottle she’s taken from my cellar, I notice. A five-hundred dollar bottle that was meant to age for another few years before being opened.
“I prefer Hazel not drink,” I bite out, irritated about the wine, and Melanie shoots me an exasperated look.
“Oh c’mon, Xavi,” she says, and shoots a look at Hazel. “She’s all grown up.”
“Yeah, c’mon Dad,” adds Hazel. Melanie’s words from yesterday run through my head: She can’t be too young to live on her own but old enough for you to fuck. Besides, it’s nice to see Hazel and Melanie aligned on something for once.
“Fine,” I mutter.
As usual, Melanie dominates the conversation, but when we’re about halfway through the meal, Hazel stands up and says, “I have a Father’s Day present for you.”
“I have one, too,” Melanie jumps in. “You go first.”
Hazel gets her school bag from the front hall and pulls out a card and wrapped present for me. It’s easy to tell the present is a hardcover book.
I’m touched. “You didn’t have to do this,” I tell her. I know she doesn’t have much money because she refuses to accept an allowance. I’ve taken to slipping money into her knapsack, which neither of us ever acknowledges.
“I wanted to,” she beams, and wraps her arms around me. “Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.”