LOGINWhen I step into the room that houses all the workout machines that belong to my parents, I stutter to a halt. Elliot is still in his dress slacks from work, but his jacket and tie are gone. The sleeves of his Oxford shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and heās dragging one machine to the edge of the room.Mom has a ballet bar running along the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was put there by the previous owners for their daughter, but Mom was elated.She used it as an excuse to sign up for those ballet aerobic classes.Thereās always an eight-foot opening in front of the bar, but Elliot has cleared away a few more machines and the mats they sat on, leaving us with a decent-sized dance floor.When he sees me, Elliot gives me a smile Iāve never seen. Itās not the doting smile he gives Mom or the tight smile he usually reserves for me.Thereās something about it that has my spine tingling.āReady for your first daddy-daughter lesson?āIām sure heās teasing
āWhat are you talking about?ā Elliot demands.He uses a different tone with Mom than he does with me. He handles her with kid gloves. Me? Heās always growling at me.āTheyāre having a father-daughter dance at the country club. Brookie found out and was upset that you didnāt mention it or invite her.āI roll my eyes as I hear Elliot snort.āDonāt call her that,ā he scoffs. āSheās not five. Sheās practically grown.āāThereās no practicality about it,ā Mom says. āIn fact, sheās a little too grown. Is that why you donāt want to take her?āMomās voice has gone up. Sheās getting totally worked up. She has no problem telling me I need to lose weight, but she canāt stand anyone else saying it. Like itās okay for her to be embarrassed about me, but no one else is allowed to do it.āSheās been trying to lose weight,ā Mom adds.I roll my eyes. Thatās not totally untrue, but mostly itās she whoās trying to get me to lose weight. I watch what she has to
āWhatās that?ā Mom asks before I can stuff the paper into my backpack.āNothing.āāOh, come on, dancing isnāt that hard,ā Selma says.It is when youāve never done it before. Like ever. My dadās never been in the picture: no daddy-daughter dances, no father-daughter date nights.Nothing.I never waltzed across the living room floor with my feet on my dadās toes. So I donāt know how my friend thinks I might have learned how to ballroom dance.āYou should come,ā Selma says. āDaddy not required.āāIāll think about it,ā I lied before steering my mom away from my friend.āWhatās Selma talking about?āāNothing.āāBrooklyn!ā Mom scolds.āFine. Selmaās parents belong to the country club and theyāre having some daddy-daughter dance.āāWhy not have Elliot take you?āāBecause heās not my dad,ā I say through gritted teeth.āI think you should go,ā Mom says. āElliotās a member of the country club.āOf course, my hot, rich silver fox
Daddy helps me up from my perch on the floor. āI think what we need is a nice, hot shower.āNow that my body has calmed down from my coming so hard, Iām a little chilly again, so a warm shower sounds good.āUpstairs.ā Daddy slaps my ass. āNow.āI let out a breath because I think I might like this a little too much. We hustle naked through the house and up the stairs. Then Daddy pulls me into the master bathroom and turns on the shower. Itās a huge shower with clay tile the color of sand.The one amazing thing about my parentsā bathroom ā and the reason I use it when theyāre gone ā is the heated tile. Instead of freezing your feet as you rush across to pee or shower in the morning. The clay tile is nice and warm.āI love your shower,ā I sigh.āUse it often, do you?āāI use your bedroom when youāre out of town.āāFuck. You shouldnāt have told me that,ā he says as we step into the shower. āDo you slide your hands beneath the sheets and touch yoursel
Daddy smirks at me as he reaches between my legs and opens the dryer.He takes a clean towel from inside it, folds it, and drops it on the floor.Then he holds out a hand and helps me down off the dryer.āOn your knees, Kitty.āThe tone he uses to say my name almost makes me swallow my tongue as I try to get moisture into my dry throat as I take in his naked body. Heās not hairy, but does have a sprinkle of dark hair on his pecs. His abdomen is smooth and muscular, with only a small treasure trail thatās like an arrow pointing down to the patch of hair that surrounds the base of his erection.I gulp as I take in his size. Heās long and thick. As I kneel on the towel, his shaft bobs a little. A thick vein runs up the underside. He seems to harden further right before my eyes until his dick curves up and almost touches his navel.His tip is such a deep red that it borders on purple. And as I watch, a drip of precum glides down from his slit. It gets caught
Within twenty minutes, Iām sweating. I pull off my sweatshirt and toss it aside before picking the boat brush back up and continuing to scrub the hull of the boat.The temperature outside is still pretty chilly, but with all the big motions it takes to brush off all the dirt and scum, I welcome the cool air against my skin.When Iāve scrubbed everything off one side of the boat, I pull the power washer toward the boat. I turn it on, but Connor points it up just as the water starts to shoot out, spraying both of us.āWhat was that for?ā I ask as I hold my arms out to my sides.āYou have to lower the pressure and use a specific nozzle. I donāt want you to damage the hull.āāWhy didnāt you tell me that from the start?āāI should have,ā he says, but his words are slow and spaced out.Thatās when I realize where heās looking. I lower my head and realize that my tank top is transparent now that itās wet. A small voice in the back of my brain tells me that







