“It did,” she smiles again. “But now I’m dirty, and I need to get clean. I’m going to go rinse off really fast. I’ll see you at lunch, if you’re still here.”
Then with that, Mary Kate skips off, her hips swaying, golden hair in a stream down her back. I stand as still as a statue atthe counter for a moment, tempted to follow her straight into the shower stall before fucking her little pussy hard. Was she inviting me? But I don’t want the beautiful girl’s first time with a man to be in a tiled bathroom, slippery and awkward. I want to take care of my little girl and to treat her like the princess she is. I want Mary Kate’s first time to be incredible, memorable, with ecstasy flowing through her veins as she comes on a man’s cock for the first time. So I stay locked in place, visions of the beautiful blonde dancing in my because all of that is coming.
Soon.
Tonight even, if I can make it happen.
After a few hoursof work in my home office, I show up in the kitchen and to my surprise, Mary Kate’s there, putting together sandwiches.
“Hi Daddy,” she says with a sweet smile, looking at me over her shoulder. “I knew you were still home, so I’m making ham and cheese paninis for us. I found the panini maker in the cabinet, and it’s perfect! The newest model.”
She looks so domestic, with a loose flowy dress on, and an apron covering her curvy form. Her blonde hair is up, but tendrils curl around her neck and I have a strong desire to press kisses to that smooth column as she stands in front of the stove. Hell, I’d love to see her with her belly full of my child, the glow of pregnancy on her cheeks as another child sits in his high-chair nearby, banging a spoon.
The image stops me short because where the fuck is this coming from? I’ve had lustful desires for my stepdaughter since I first met her, years ago, but never did the imagery include visions of Mary Kate as my wife, much less as the mother of my children. But my brain can’t unsee what I’ve imagined, and the rightness of the vision pounds through my veins. Mary Kate, with my child in her belly. Mary Kate, smiling at me as I impregnate her again and again. Our family, filled with tumbling tots underfoot, as the gorgeous girl laughs melodically.
Holy fuck.
It’s what I want.
But I can’t let on that I’ve had a massive shift in mindset that includes more than just savaging her luscious curves. As a result, I manage a neutral smile, even as the blood pounds in my head.
“Paninis sound good,” I say in a near-normal voice. “Just no pickles.”
She nods and plates the paninis before pouring a generous serving of potato chips into a bowl, and putting it on the kitchen island where I’m seated. Then, she slips onto the stool beside me, and smiles sweetly.
“Dig in, Daddy. I hope you like it.”
I take a bite of the gooey sandwich, and it’s amazing.
“Holy fuck, sweetheart. This is real good. What did you do differently?”
Mary Kate giggles while nibbling her own sandwich.
“Well, I’m using the expensive serrano ham I found in the fridge, and I buttered both sides of the bread before putting it in thepanini maker. That makes a lot of difference. I hope it doesn’t ruin your diet.”
I mock-frown.
“I generally don’t consume a lot of butter, but for you, sweetheart, I’m up for anything. Besides, this sandwich is too good to pass up. I may need two.”
She giggles again, and we settle into a comfortable silence as we eat. She takes another bite of her sandwich, then props her chin on her hand and shoots me a playful glance. “Can I ask you something, Kent?”
I nod.
“Shoot,” I say, like it’s nothing.
She traces the lip of her mug. “Why urology?”
The question catches me sideways. I shrug. “Why does anyone do anything? I was in med school, watching the world trip over itself to solve breast cancer. Every year, new campaigns, millions in research, a whole fucking month painted pink. Meanwhile, if a man had his balls cut off by cancer, nobody gave a shit. They called it karma. So I went into urology out of spite. I wanted to make sure men didn’t get left behind.”
She grins. “You did it for the boys.”
I shrug, but the words hang there, truer than I want to admit. “Not just for the boys. I like fixing things. It’s mechanical. Cause and effect. There’s a problem, and I solve it. No drama.”
She props her chin on her palm, the sleeve of her shirt slipping up to expose her bare forearm, the downy hair catching the light.“But you like drama. You just want to be the one who controls it.”
I laugh. “Guilty.”
She takes another bite of sandwich, chews slowly. “You ever wish you’d done something else?”
