Daphne Vs. Daddy

I wonder what Dominic is thinking, but I dare not ask. His lips kiss the top of my head. His fingers stroke my hair. We’re caught in time, stuck in a moment where consequences and reality don’t matter. There’s a heavy load of shit we’ll have to deal with later, I know that. I know he realizes this too.

But I sure as hell don’t want to talk about it right now, and neither does he. My eyelids droop heavier and the pull of sleep is almost completely overwhelming me and I know that I’ve got to let myself fall asleep. That tiny tremor of reality threatens to torture me from any rest, but I'm just plain spent. My body needs the release of sleep to thoroughly evacuate the earlier tensions from today.

Because adding onto my stress and thinking about how I literally let my father figure fuck me. How I begged him, seduced him, and let a few words be the go-ahead for me to sleep with someone who used to be married to my

mother…

Okay, fuuuuuuck, there’s just no way that I can think about that right now. My body is tired, my mind won’t relent to anything but sleep.

The sound of Dominic’s breathing is the last thing I hear before butterfly wings flutter behind my mind and drag me off to a dreamless sleep. The scent and feel of him surrounds me and I can’t think about right, wrong, or anything, but this feels good.

I feel safe.

8

Dominic

I wake up to a bright sunlight filtering through the curtains into the bedroom. What…? This isn’t my…

Oh.

I’m at the Carlyle Hotel. Which means…

I roll over and…

Yup. That’s my stepdaughter. Or, I guess, my ex-stepdaughter. Which is good, because if I were still married to her mother, we’d both be fucked. Mary would not take me cheating on her with her daughter well, and for obvious reasons.

But I’m not married to her mom, and I did fuck Mary's daughter and oh God, she’s so damn young. There’s something about her being asleep that makes her look even more young this morning—a child, really—and I'm 45 and I cannot be fucking women who are only 26.

Heather is her same age.

Which, I’ll admit, is not much of a consolation. I broke things off with Heather because she was too young, too childish. I need someone who is a little more mature.

Plus, I really did just want a fuck buddy. That was all Heather was supposed to be. She knew that from day one. She just didn’t get the memo. Or more appropriately, lost it on purpose. I should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to just enjoy a raunchy sex life with me for the hell of it.

Daphne, on the other hand…

I gently stroke the hair away from her face, unable to keep my hands off her for another moment. Last night was amazing, but in ways that I’ve never felt before. Usually, when a night is amazing, it’s because the woman let me do something really naughty—a threesome. Or fuck her up the ass. Or whatever.

But I didn’t need that with Daphne last night. Not that I’d be against it if it came up between us, but I don’t need it with her. Just her being her was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

She’s probably going to go to Mary and tell her what happened, though. Oh God, Mary is going to kill me. I fucked her daughter. She’s going to string me up by my balls.

My only defense—I didn’t force Daphne, she’s the one who invited me up here—isn’t a great one.

C’mon, do you really think Mary will care?

Nope, not even a little bit.

Fuuuuccccckkkkk…

I’m so screwed.

Daphne starts to stir beneath my hand, and I freeze. Maybe if I sneak out of the bed, throw on my clothes, and get out of the hotel room before she fully wakes up, she won’t have proof I was here and she can think that the whole thing was an alcohol-fueled dream. If it ever comes up later, I can just give her a blank stare and tell her to lay off the alcohol.

This is totally a doable plan. I just have to get my ass out of this bed without waking her up.

I start to slowly lift the covers, trying to slide to the edge of the bed without jiggling Daphne, when her eyes open with a soft flutter.