Wanting Daddy (2)

Chapter Two

Jake

I stepped out of Emily’s room and closed the door as quietly as I could behind me. My heart was still pounding hard from what I had just seen. I walked down the hall to my bedroom, trying to keep my steps normal, but my cock was rock-hard and pressing against my jeans. It was so obvious, and I hoped she hadn’t noticed before I left.

Fuck.

What the hell was wrong with me?

That was my daughter in there… my adopted daughter, but still. I had raised her like my own since she was little. I shouldn’t have gotten hard from something like that. But the image of her on that bed with her legs spread and her fingers inside herself kept flashing through my head. She had said Daddy. She had moaned it while she came.

I reached my bedroom and shut the door quickly, locking it just in case. My hands shook a little as I pulled off my work shirt. The smell of grease from the shop hit me, but I didn’t care. I needed to deal with this now.

Next came my jeans, and the boxers too. My cock sprang free, throbbing harder than it had in years.

I sat on the edge of my bed and wrapped my hand around myself. The first stroke felt so good I almost moaned out loud. I kept my voice quiet, though. Emily was right down the hall. I couldn’t let her hear me. But all I could think about was her. Her soft moans. The way her body had trembled when she came. Those little panties pushed to the side.

“Damn it, Jake, you can’t do this,” I whispered to myself. My hand moved slowly up and down my cock. I closed my eyes, and there she was again. Emily. My little girl. Only she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was eighteen and so fucking beautiful. I stroked faster, thinking about how wet she had looked. How her fingers had slid in and out of her pussy.

My cock twitched in my hand with every image of her tits under that shirt or the way her hips had arched. I leaned back a little on the bed and kept stroking. Long, even strokes now. I couldn’t stop the thoughts. How long had she been thinking about me like that? Did she touch herself every night imagining me walking in and taking over?

I felt fucking guilty, but that only made me harder. My hand moved faster as I thought about her voice when she had whispered “Please, Daddy.” The way her cheeks had flushed and her eyes had squeezed shut with pleasure.

My balls were already tightening. I spread my legs wider on the bed and kept pumping with my fist. Up and down. Tight grip, just the way I liked it. But in my head it was her hand. Or better yet, her mouth. No. I couldn’t go there. She was innocent. Or at least I had thought so until tonight. The way she had fingered herself showed me she knew what she was doing.

I opened my eyes for a second and looked down at my cock. It looked red and angry. The veins stood out. All because of her.

I kept going. Stroke after stroke. Thinking about walking back into her room right now. Telling her it was okay. Pulling her into my arms. No. Stop. I squeezed my eyes shut again and focused on the memory. Her spread legs. Her fingers shiny with her own wetness. The little gasp she had made when she saw me standing there.

“Emily,” I whispered without meaning to. My hand sped up. I was close. Really close. I imagined her looking at me with those same big eyes, but this time she reached for me. Asked me to help her finish. I knew I should have been disgusted with myself, but the heat in my gut was too strong.

I sat up a little and stroked even faster. My other hand clenched the sheets. “Fuck, Babygirl, you looked so good,” I said quietly to myself. The words just slipped out. I was lost in it now. All the years alone after her mother left. All the times I had ignored how pretty she was becoming as she grew up. It all crashed over me tonight.

My cock throbbed hard in my fist. I felt the cum building. I didn’t even try to fight it anymore. I just kept pumping. Thinking about her soft skin. The way her nipples had poked through that thin shirt. How she had trembled when the orgasm hit her. “Just like that. Just like that,” I muttered, as if I were talking to her.

The pressure became too much. I groaned deep in my throat and felt the first pulse shoot over my hand. It kept coming. Thick ropes of cum covered my fingers and dripped down. I stroked through it all, imagining it landing on her. On her stomach or her tits. God, what was wrong with me.

I milked my cock until every drop was out. My hand was a mess. My chest rose and fell hard. I sat there for a minute, just breathing and staring at the ceiling. The guilt hit me right after. Hard.

“That can never happen,” I said out loud to myself. My voice sounded rough. “She’s your adopted daughter, Jake. You raised her. You can’t want her like that. It ends here. Tonight. Don’t think about it anymore.”

I wiped my hand on an old shirt from the floor and stood up. My legs felt a little weak, but I went into the bathroom to clean up. The whole time I repeated it in my head. It can never happen. She’s taboo. I love her too much to ruin that.

But even while I washed my hands, I felt that pull again. The image of her on that bed wouldn’t leave me. I shook my head and turned off the water. Dinner. I had to focus on dinner and act normal. For her sake. For both of us.

I put on clean clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. “Get it together, man.” I said it firmly. But deep down I knew this was only the beginning. The thoughts were already coming back. Her voice saying Daddy. Her body moving under her own hand.

I took a deep breath and headed toward the kitchen. I was going to do this right. I had to. No matter how hard my cock got every time I thought about her. She was my daughter. Adopted or not. That had to be enough.

I talked to myself in my head the whole way downstairs. Remember all the nights you stayed up when she was sick. The birthdays. The father-daughter dances. You’re her dad. Act like it. Don’t destroy everything just because you saw her touching herself once.

But the memory played on a loop. I could still hear her moans in my ears. See her thighs trembling. It was going to be a long night trying to push it all down. I took the Chinese food out of the fridge and started setting the table. Normal dad stuff. That was what I had to be now.

“Emily, dinner,” I called quietly. My voice sounded steady enough. But inside I was still fighting. Still hard just from the thoughts. It can never happen. I told myself again. Never.

I sat down at the table and waited for her. Hoped she would come out like nothing had happened. Hoped I could do the same. But I knew the truth. Everything had changed tonight. And I didn’t know if I could stop wanting her now that I had seen her like that.

My mind kept drifting back to her room. To her whisper. To the way she had looked straight at me when she came. “Stop it, Jake,” I muttered under my breath. “She deserves better than that. You know that.”

I picked up my phone to distract myself, then put it right back down. No. I had to be there for her. Like always. Dinner first. Talk about school. Act normal. Push the rest away.

But while I sat there, the words kept echoing. It can never happen. Even if part of me was already wondering if it could. If she wanted it too. No. I shoved that thought down hard. She’s my adopted daughter. End of story.

I heard her door open down the hall. My heart beat faster. Here we go. Time to pretend everything was fine. Time to lie to myself until I believed it. Because crossing that line would destroy us both. I knew that. And I had to make sure it never happened. No matter what.