Bred in Daddy's Handcuffs(3)

“Deal,” I said, reaching my small hand into his.

Tender warmth crept up my arm. I retreated to my room awhile later, lounging on the bed and getting on my laptop to cruise Facebook and play games.

What were normally welcome distractions just didn't pack the same punch that evening, though. I kept thinking about the way Daddy's big hands felt wrapped around mine, bitterly hating the thoughts that were there, just beneath the surface.

Fuck me. Why am I thinking of him like this again?

It's sick and wrong.

I needed to find a boyfriend, and soon. Too bad none of the guys from my class or in my small social circle really appealed to me.

I'd gone through my Goth and Emo phase a couple years ago. I mostly did it for dates, hanging out with the bad boys who smoked and knew how to get high, or at least where I could find music that made my heart bleed and Daddy's eardrums melt.

The trouble is that the bad boys weren't so bad after all. They'd do anything to get into my pants.

I'd had almost a dozen short lived boyfriends by the time I graduated. All we did was kiss, and once I gave a guy with long red hair and tattoos a handjob, but nothing else.

Becky and the others couldn't believe I was still a virgin. Lately, I'd taken to pretending otherwise, but I think they saw right through it.#p#分页标题#e#

“Fuck me again,” I whispered, letting out delayed laughter as I realized the cruel irony in my swearing.

I punched the down key, staring at my screen. A bunch of male acquaintances and part-time boyfriends who were with my girls flickered across the screen.

My expression soured as I studied each profile, feeling nothing but emptiness or selfish manipulation flooding my brain.

Why aren't they good enough? Why?

Why do I play along and promise them things I'll never do to get my kicks? It's like the wires are crossed in my head or something.

I'm a bad girl, but I only get hot for the straight laced, hardass good guys.

I winced, knowing that it was rooted too deep to force out. I'd tried, fumbling around to see if the boys I dated really had something tough underneath. So far, I hadn't turned up anything, leaving me so sexually frustrated I wanted to scream.

Show me a Navy SEAL wearing nothing but sweat and his dog tags and I'd melt in a heartbeat.

But one of the scrawny, tattooed potheads I should've been dating? Nothing.

Soldiers, tuxedo clad businessmen, cowboys, and cops...they turned me on like nothing else. Especially cops.

I glanced through the crack in my bedroom door. Even from a distance, I saw Daddy's silver pair of handcuffs hanging off his belt, sleek and perfect.

I shivered. Ice and flames mingled inside me, melting together into taboo steam, leaving a thick vapor wafting through my veins and pooling around my sex.

I closed my notebook and slid it to the edge of the bed. With one hand, I loosened my belt.

Adrenaline dumped into my system, fueling a rising lust. One hand crept dangerously close to the crevice of my jeans, then slid beneath the waistband to my dark red panties.

“Rachel, dinner!”

Daddy's yell stalled my desires. Guilt ran through me.

I'd been thinking about him while my fires were rising. Against all normalcy, through all the judgmental social norms, I'd been fantasizing about my own father. Again.

I quickly fixed my jeans and tromped into the kitchen. We sat down to his trademark pepperjack burgers and waffle fries.

We didn't make much small talk during dinner. I asked him a few questions about the ride and he answered them – mostly police logistics stuff I barely had an interest in anyway.

I retired to my room after a hot shower. Mercifully, the hot summer evening had sapped my sexual frustration and my energy too.

I turned in early, wondering what I'd find on the ride with him tomorrow.





“Don't be afraid, Rachel. A lot of these folks are desperate, but very few of them are stupid enough to try anything with a police officer. This isn't the first time I've been through this part of town.”

The city's skyscrapers gleamed in the distance, majestic spikes winding up to the heavens.

I'd marveled at them on the way in, wondering who lived beneath the towers.

Probably the sorts of glitzy tough guys and magazine beauties I imagined – men with fast cars and bright dressed girls getting tipsy in VIP lounges. I wanted to explore the city's glamor so bad – not cruise through the dump we found ourselves in.

I pressed myself deep into the leather seat. Say what you will about cop cars, but they sure are comfortable.

It's the only thing that comforted me other than his voice. Suddenly, I could see why the city's own cops weren't out doing their duties, or why they were shorthanded.

The small ghetto seemed to wind on forever. Dead businesses and disheveled people stretched across the beaten sidewalks, sometimes gathering in groups to conspire on ways to survive another day in their desperate world.#p#分页标题#e#