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“You don’t do anything for this house!” Dad shouts at me from the kitchen.

I whip around to slam my bedroom door. It rattles the frame and knocks one of the photos from a lake trip two years ago off the wall. He’s probably going to come up here and chew me out for slamming the door, but I don’t care. It’s not like I wanted to come home, but they had closed campus down for the rest of the year. I couldn’t go back to college even if I wanted to.

I tear my shirt off and the cool breeze from the open window makes me shiver. Downstairs, Dad is banging around the dishes I’d washed this morning. The cabinets open and close, plates and bowls clang together, and the silverware clatters in the drawer. I want to chuck one of those plates at his damn head.

He starts cooking dinner and I grab the towel hanging on my closet door. I need time alone to calm down before I go down there again.

The water is hot on my back as I step under the stream. I lean my head back to soak my blonde hair before foaming up some shampoo in my hands. I massage the lather into my scalp, taking in a deep breath of the steamy, citrusy air.

After alanya escort rinsing my hair of shampoo, I take some body wash into my hands and work it into foam. They glide along my skin, working in small circles over my breasts. My nipples harden as I squeeze them between my fingers. I tug on them, watching my breasts jiggle as I shake them. My hands travel further down, fingertips pressing into the bridge of my hip bones and down to the tops of my legs. I graze my inner thighs and brush my fingers over my clit.

A moan escapes my lips.

I rub my clit in circles, my eyes drifting closed. Daddy’s scruffy beard and flushed face dances lights up my eyelids. He had stared so angry at me from the sink, his arms bulging in his button down. His eyes, usually a warm blue, were icy cold and piercing me at the front door.

I had so badly wanted him to grab my arm and practically drag me to the couch. He could have sat down, bent me over his lap, lifted my skirt, and spanked my bare ass until it welted. His fingers would have slipped off my ass and brushed the crotch of my panties. alanya escort bayan He would’ve found out my secret… the one I’ve been keeping for years, but never acted on.

My eyes pop open as the water turns cold.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I shout, quickly skidding out of the way of the cold blast and shutting off the water.

I get my towel around my body and yank the door open to the bathroom. I can hear the water running in the kitchen sink and the soft hum of the dishwasher. Even the washing machine is rattling on. I am dripping wet as I storm down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.

“Seriously?!” I shout, staring incredulously at my father. “I was in the fucking shower!”

“Language,” he says without turning around.

He’s stirring something on the stove while the hot water runs in the empty sink. All the dishes are stacked in the right basin—clean.

“No!” I say, gripping my towel in my hand. “You’re mad at me for no fucking reason so you have to ruin the fifteen minutes I get away from you by running all the water down here! How old escort alanya are you?”

My father has changed into a gray t-shirt and the fabric stretches over the muscles in his back as he tenses. His hand comes up from the wooden spoon in the pot to run through his bushy brown hair and down his jawline. He takes a deep breath before turning around. I lift my chin, standing in that way a woman does when she’s pissed off. One leg out. One hand on my hip. My jaw tense.

His eyes start on the floor and slowly lift my body. He’s taking an elevator ride up to the penthouse, stopping on every floor to take in the view. I watch him drink in my long legs, the hem of my towel, the curve of my hip, the swell of my breasts, to finally meet my gaze.

He’s hungry.

My clit throbs. If I wasn’t leaning all my weight onto my leg, I think my knees would’ve buckled. My mouth goes dry and I stand there trying to remember why the hell I was angry. There’s a fog falling over my brain… Cold water… daddy’s hungry… soap in my hair… daddy might finally take me…

I want him. I shouldn’t but I do. I’ve wanted him since he drove me to my first year of college last year and he slipped his fingers up my thigh when he thought I was sleeping. His breath had caught in his throat and it took me several tentative tries to muster up the courage. Ever since then, I’ve been dying for my Daddy’s touch again.

If he keeps looking at me like that…

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