Claiming Daddy Ch. 12
I traced lazy patterns on Dad's chest as he held me close, our bodies still entangled in the humid aftermath of what we'd just done. Sweat cooled and dried between our skin; my hair clung damply to my cheek, and the faint, unmistakable scent of sex hung in the room, thick as incense. The morning sun had climbed higher, casting warm golden rectangles across the rumpled sheets, gilding our limbs as if in ironic benediction. Even after everything, I wanted to laugh at how completely natural it felt to be wrapped in his arms, safe and triumphant.
His heart beat steady and relentless beneath my palm, like the ticking of some secret clock, each thump a reminder that I'd claimed another piece of him no one else would ever have. He twitched a little as my finger spiraled over his sternum, but he didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, his hand found the curl of my hip, holding me there possessively, as if I might slip away in the blink of an eye and leave him stranded in the aftershock of our shared sin. I wondered if he felt as changed as I did. If he sensed the tectonic shift in our reality, or if, for him, these long minutes of silence were just a temporary reprieve before the guilt came roaring back.
I studied his face, half-shadowed now by my own hair as I propped myself on his chest, my chin resting near his collarbone. He stared at the cracked ceiling, his eyes unreadable, but the set of his jaw and the faint pink flush along his neck told me he was not yet ready to let go of this moment. Neither was I. With every slow inhale, every exhale that stirred my bangs, I felt the boundary between us dissolve further. I could have lain there forever, drawing patterns on his skin, listening to the unsteady syncopation of our hearts in the hush of the quiet house.
My lips touched his shoulder, sucking at my father’s flesh, just because I could. His breath hitched, then resumed its measured pace. My leg slid over his thigh, my calf hooking behind him, pinning him to the mattress with a gentle insistence. It was a silent dare: Let someone try to separate us now. Let the universe attempt to unmake what had just been forged.
He finally shifted beneath me, his hand rising to stroke my back in long, soothing arcs. For the first time, his gaze flicked down to meet mine. The intensity there had changed. It was no longer the wild, desperate hunger of moments earlier, but something stripped bare. Something almost reverent.
I couldn't help but smile. In the span of a single morning, I'd become the center of his gravity, the secret sun that would warm and torment him for the rest of his life. That knowledge filled me with a golden, dangerous pride.
