That, and I could rationalize anything for what I was about to do when I closed that door.
That was until I lose my nerve. My courage evaporated, and my mouth ran dry as I saw Marcus closing the door, thanking Cathy and turning his eyes to me as I closed the fridge.
"We're not going to do this. Not today. Not ever." He said in a chillingly precise manner in which I'd never heard him speak. Marcus had a deep, rich timbre to his voice that often gave me chills, but not like this tone did.
My stomach swirled uncomfortably, and my palms started sweating. Licking my lips and taking a quick breath, I found my courage again, if only to speak. "I think you know better than to make decisions for me," I said, and we were both shocked that I would say such a thing.
I was a model student, a model daughter.
But the streak of defiance welling within me must have been the only thing I could muster while I tried to work up the courage to make him an offer that he couldn't resist. It was dirty, wrong, calculating-I usually went about things the honest way. But something about my stepdaddy, about how much I wanted him, made me misbehave because I thought it would get his attention. If he was going to take a firm tone with me, I was going to show him how much I needed it.
The world had taught me that I needed to be ruthless when I went after what I wanted, and I was finally going to listen to the world on that one. It seemed my dear mother had taught me something.
Never let anything be too dear and precious. Nothing … untouchable.
I seemed to stand a little taller. "Your marriage has been over for a long time." My voice took on a copy lilt. "And, yet, you've never strayed, have you?" I asked.
He looked appalled.
My stomach burned like I'd swallowed fireworks that were going off, but I was determined not to lose my nerve. "I'm not wrong," I said with every inch of resolve I had. I knew I was right. Marcus was a good man. Such a good man. I just needed to be his bad little girl. I pressed my back against the closed fridge, wishing he was pressing me against it. "You're loyal." My belly warmed when I thought about how much I wanted him to touch me. It was keeping the words coming, even though I was fighting back shaking, I was so nervous. "You've stuck around to take care of me, even though my mother made sure I could take care of myself a long time ago." I wanted to be his little girl, but I hadn't been a little girl in a long time. "And you … I never thought you … " Suddenly all of my nerve had evaporated. I was vulnerable and afraid and the validation that he wanted me had faded. The fortification gone, I was trembling, raw with the fact that we'd never go back from here … but that didn't mean we'd go forward, either.
"For a good little daddy's girl," he said, looking me square in the eye with an intensity that made the air around us ignite. I was shivering, in anticipation, now. I couldn't breathe when he paused, and I was gasping when he continued. "You sure seem to want to be a bad girl." His voice was practically touching my body; I could feel the weight of his words like his fingers stroking my skin and teasing me. "You want to prey on me when I'm vulnerable." Marcus's words showed me another side of him new to me. His shift had brought color back to his face. He was angry. "Tara, you want me to prey on you when you are … " His loud, frightening voice since chills through me. Marcus; Isaying my name made my pussy throb with need. "I thought we talked about this when you were acting out when Helen was diagnosed."
I flinch at my mother's name. At the memories of how my one and only burst of rebelliousness had been handled. My mother had taken the possibly correct tack that I needed to be punished and not allowed to act out. Marcus had wanted me to feel like I had a better outlet for my frustration and grief.
Of course, Marcus had helped me. Inappropriate feelings I harbored for him were a complication in the comfort he provided me, but I definitely felt better after being able to talk to him. I was open with him. More open than most people are with their parents.
I'd told him about how I never dated. And how my friends wanted to be supportive but didn't understand. How many of them seem to think that around college applications time was the worst time for me to have a personal crisis, and could I put this on my college applications?
I'd told him that I was a virgin.
He hadn't reacted at all. And I hadn't said it in any attempt to court, woo, or tempt him. I had been explaining that I was going to have no mother, start my career-the one thing my mother would possibly be interested in-and I felt so alone. I had no one to lean on.
Of course, Marcus offered himself then as someone that I could lean on. I told him that I appreciated it, and I didn't explain that my intense attraction to him was why I had resisted previously.
He closed the space between us quickly. I didn't realize that my breathing had gone shallow until his mouth closed over mine. Then, I was desperate for air. Desperate for him. He pulled back, his fist closing my hair into a makeshift ponytail, and I blushed furiously.
Marcus broke the kiss. My stunned reaction was putting my fingers to my mouth to touch where he'd kissed me. My lips felt bruised, he'd kissed me so hard. The scruff of his cheeks against me had been visceral pricks into reality. I had none of the fire I'd hoped to put into seducing him, but I was burning from his aggressive touch.
His other hand grabbed mine.
"I'm not this kind of man. I should never have touched you." He sounded angry again. More than that. Full of rage. But beneath that I saw, in every marked line returning to his handsome face, he was hurt. Every gorgeous chisel of his jarred had an overlay of main etching sadness into his beauty. It made him more beautiful to me. It made me want to comfort him.
I knew Marcus had truly loved my mother. It had always hurt my feelings for him that my mother seemed to resent him more than anything. I honestly thought that she enjoyed him for sex but didn't truly want another husband. Another person that wanted to take up her time and distract her from her career.
When I'd heard Helen, my mother, shout as much at him one night, it had only made me feel worse for Marcus.
But what was I supposed to do? I didn't think my mother deserved Marcus. I wasn't rooting for them to work out. I knew she didn't deserve him. I buried myself in my studies and prepared myself for my career. I didn't want to worry about what I would do when my mother passed.
I certainly didn't think this would happen.
"I'm not the kind of girl that does this sort of thing," I whispered. Marcus tightened his grip on my wrist.
19
Marcus
Years of ignoring my growing attraction to Tara, my wife's daughter, were fucking wasted. I was watching the baby-pink lips of hers trembling. I'd roughly kissed my baby girl's lips. I was thinking about digging my fingers into her porcelain flesh until it was red from my touch. I wanted to see her marked by me. I wanted to make her truly my baby girl.
I hated myself for years for having these thoughts about a girl that was too young and too inappropriate for me to grow as close to and to admire as much as I did. But the further Helen, my now deceased wife, got not just from my cock but from my heart, the easier it became to see that stepdaddy's little princess genuinely cared about him.
Sure, Tara had always tried to hide how she felt about him, but sometimes when they were together he could scent just how aroused she was. Little shaky inflections in her sweet voice would betray her sweet little body was so ready for me.
Everything about this made me feel like shit. Like the worst fucking person in the world. It wasn't just about the heinousness of betraying my wife-I was not the kind of man that thought stepping out on your wife was okay or something every man did.
I wasn't that kind of man.
I didn't want to be the kind of man that wanted to fuck my sweet little stepdaughter, either. But here I fucking am wondering how baby girl's plush, plump little pussy will taste.
Here he was, in front of Tara, and that perfect little mouth said words that triggered something in him.
"I'm not the kind of girl who does this sort of thing."
You already told me that you don't do any kind of thing. You're fucking tempting me. Knowing no one had touched that beautiful body? She was my innocent kitten, and I needed to ravage her. Touch and taste and claim every inch of her. Liquid heat rushed through my pulse, urging me to crush her against the fridge. Put her ankles up as high as that lithe little body would let them and bury myself in her. I wanted to lose myself in her.
That's what it would be right now, wouldn't it? Was this really the crashing of the waves of our pent up emotions about each other, or just some expression of grief? I knew that it was far off base from anything remotely resembling appropriate. But when I'd started hard fisting my cock in the mornings after she went to school in some painfully demure arrangement of pastels and neutrals that were genuine innocence … well, I'd passed up appropriate when her name was always on the tip of my moans when I came in the steam of my daily shower.