four
Finn
Dorycloseshermenu and pats my hand. “I’m so glad you’re here with us, Finn.”
“Wouldn’t miss Christmas with you guys for the world.” Technically, that’s true. I enjoy Christmas with the family. I get to catch up with Dory and spoil Terry’s kids. But that’s not my main reason for coming to Vermont.
I glance across the table at my real motivation for trekking all the way up here. She’s got her head down, lips pursed, gaze focused on the menu, and she hasn’t spoken a word to me since I got to the cabin. Our hug was stiff and only lasted a second, but that was long enough for me to notice a couple of things—specifically, two very full, round things that I don’t recall feeling quite so prominent.
Studying her now, I note the fullness in her cheeks. She’s a little rounder, a little softer than she was the last time I saw her. She looks great, though she’s obviously trying to camouflage her new curves beneath an oversized sweater.
“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Elaine says.
Dory can barely contain her excitement as a server places a tall pint glass, brimming with foam, on the table before her. “One beer isn’t going to kill me. Besides, I read somewhere that a little bit of booze can be good for you.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s wine,” Leena says. “And I think that study was funded by the beverage industry.”
“Well, I didn’t beat cancer so I couldn’t enjoy a cold one now and again.” Dory sips her beer and wipes the foam from her upper lip.
I smile at the stubborn woman who helped raise me. “I think the more important question is, can you handle that much ale?”
“Is that a challenge, Finnegan?”
I chuckle. We place our dinner orders and start in on the bread baskets. I’m halfway through my own beer when Terry taps her butter knife against her wineglass. With her red-brown hair and slightly crooked smile, she looks so much like Jamie that I sometimes find it hard to look at her.
“Speaking of beating cancer,” Terry says. “I’d like to propose a toast to Mom. Three months post-surgery and still cancer free.”
We lift our glasses to Dory. She tells us all to stop being silly, but her smile betrays her appreciation. I take a long pull from my own ale, knowing that if it wasn’t for her love and support, my life would’ve undoubtedly taken a darker turn—
Which makes what I did to her granddaughter all the more reprehensible.
I never meant for it to happen, and I certainly didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did. I told myself I was just going to kiss her, just going to hold her a while. Just going to feel her breasts, and reach into her panties to see how wet she was. The second I slid my fingers through her slickness, I was done for. A hundred men couldn’t have dragged me off my girl, and she was my girl that night. My sweet, cock-hungry virgin.
And I was her daddy.
No woman had ever called me that before, and even if they had, I doubt it would’ve hit me the same way. When I asked her to repeat herself, she hid her face, embarrassed.
“Just pretend I didn’t say that,” she said.
I closed my fist around her hair and slowly forced her head back.
“Be a good girl,” I growled, “and say it again.”
Suddenly, my arms were the only thing holding her upright.
“I’m yours, Daddy.”
Her mouth tasted like vanilla. From that point forward, I came to associate the flavor with the kitten-like whimpers she made around my tongue as I strummed her nipples. I wedged my knee between her legs so she could hump my thigh. But it wasn’t enough to have an angel perched on my leg. I needed to feel her arousal with my own fingers. So that’s exactly what I did. I brought her to the ground, took off her pants and her panties, and touched her.
“Baby, you’re so fucking slick. Did you make all this cream for Daddy?”
Astrid moaned. “Yes, Daddy, I made it for you.”
I coaxed two orgasms from her with my fingers before I demanded a third with my tongue. We came too damn close to being caught by a late-night dog walker, before we managed to scramble onto the play structure. That’s where my little girl got bold.
Huddled together in the partially enclosed space between three slides, she put her hand on my dick and started rubbing me through my pants. I guided her hand to my zipper and growled, “If you want to play with Daddy’s cock, you’ll have to go in and get it.”
She straddled my thighs, placing her mouth within kissing distance. I couldn’t resist claiming another taste of her sweet tongue. After some tugging and fumbling, she succeeded in undoing my belt and unzipping my pants. I caressed the tops of her thighs as she reached her small, eager hand into my boxers and pulled out my cock.