Chapter 2

“Don't you, Daddy?” She asked again when he didn't respond to her earlier question.

His fingers dug into her skin. “Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes.”

The confession cracked something open in her chest. She pressed down harder. “Don't stop,” she said again. “Don't you dare stop.”

And Jonas didn't think he would, even if she asked him to. They were both gone in the game that he didn't think he could be able to extricate himself even if he wanted.

He moved his hips to the pace she had set until he felt the familiar tightening of his stomach and knew he wasn't far.

She felt it too and watched his face as it happened. His eyes went wide, then fluttered closed, and his mouth fell open just as his climax hit him, harder than it had ever done. He couldn't remember a time when he came so hard, like a wave crashing on a rock.

She kept grinding and riding him through every spasm until his hands finally fell limp at his sides and his chest heaved in the silence.

On the TV, the credits rolled, as if it was following them through what they were doing.

May stretched, yawning. “That was good. I'm going to bed.” She walked over to them with a smile. She didn't think it was odd that their daughter was still sitting on her dad's thighs because it was normal to her. You could say Jonas' thighs were Ocean's favourite.

“Good night, mum,” Ocean smiled innocently.

“Night, baby.” May kissed the top of her head and padded out of the room, just as Jonas wished her a wonderful night. His voice sounded steadier than he expected it to. He was lucky it didn't expose his guilt.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Jonas's hand moved, sliding up Ocean's thigh, higher than it had gone before. His fingers found the edge of her underwear, and he pressed.

Ocean gasped.

“Your turn,” he said. “But we're not doing it on the couch.”

Jonas stood and lifted her with him as if she weighed nothing. Her legs wrapped around his waist naturally, as her brain took her back to those innocent days when she didn't have such dirty and wicked thoughts about her father.

His hands cupped her ass through the denim skirt, and his fingers pressed into the curve of her pussy.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he went up, and she buried her face in his neck, breathing him in. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her breathing steady and tried not to imagine the look of horror that would be on her mum's face if she ever opened her door while they walked past her room and saw them like this.

She wouldn't even need to be told. The patch on Jonas' jeans and his hands on her arse would expose everything.

He took her straight to his bedroom, grateful his wife had started sleeping in her room for a year now. She only slept in the room with him whenever she wanted to have sex with him, and tonight wasn't one of those nights.

Ocean had been in her father's bedroom a thousand times, but it felt different this time. She was being carried in, like a woman, about to be shown a world she didn't know of when she was a child.

He set her down beside the bed. Her feet touched the carpet, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

“This is —” He stopped, and ran a hand through his hair. “Ocean, it's not too late for us to stop —”

“I know, but we have come too far for you to suddenly grow cold feet, don't you think?”

She reached for the hem of her skirt and pulled it up over her hips before she let it fall to the floor.

The denim landed with a soft thump, leaving her in nothing but her underwear and her thin white tank top.

Jonas' eyes travelled down her body, and they lingered on the damp spot darkening the cotton between her legs.

“You're soaked,” he groaned.

She grinned, suddenly feeling naughty. “You made me that way.”

A sound escaped him as he stepped forward. His hands found her waist and his thumbs traced the jut of her hip bones through the thin fabric. His touch was hesitant at first, trembling, like he was still trying to convince himself that they weren't committing any sin.

His breath caught when her fingers brushed the waistband of his jeans. She pushed the denim down his hips, and he stepped out of them, instantly kicking them aside.

His boxers were still dark with his release, and licking her lips, she dropped to her knees.

“Ocean—”

She didn't answer. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down to free his cock. It was thick, flushed, already half-hard, and glistening with the remnants of his climax. She wrapped her hand around the base and he twitched.

“You don't have to,” he rasped. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

She looked up at him and smiled innocently even though she was anything but. “I want to taste you, Daddy.”

His knees buckled slightly, and he braced himself against the dresser, his knuckles white against the dark wood.

She leaned forward, and her tongue traced a slow line from the base of his cock to the tip. He was salty and warm, and she felt a surge of something fierce and primal as he gasped above her. She took him in her mouth, slowly and let her lips stretch around the head.

“Oh, God —” He groaned, reaching down to tug on her hair. “Ocean, that's—”

She took him deeper, her tongue working along the underside, and her hand stroking what she couldn't reach. He was fully hard now, throbbing against her lips, and she felt a wet heat bloom between her thighs at the knowledge that she'd done this to him.

He was trying to be gentle, but she didn't want him to do that. She didn't need him to walk around her on tiptoes.

She pulled back, letting him slip from her mouth. She looked up, and held his gaze. “Touch me,” she said. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

He lowered himself to his knees in front of her, his face level with hers. He reached for her tank top and peeled it up over her head before his hands found her breasts.

He cupped them and his thumbs circled her nipples until they hardened, and she arched into his touch with a sound she didn't recognise as her own. He lowered his mouth to her chest and kissed the hollow between her breasts. His tongue traced the curve of her breast before he took her nipple between his lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped, and he sucked gently, then harder, sending sparks of heat straight to her core. His other hand slid down her stomach, and his fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes. Please, yes.”

He pulled the fabric down, and she stepped out of it, standing naked before him. He looked up at her, and his eyes travelled the length of her body.

“You're beautiful,” he said. “God, you're so beautiful.”

His hand slid between her legs, to her pussy, and he pressed. She cried out, and her knees instantly went weak.

“That's it,” he murmured, circling her slowly. “Let me hear you.”

She was shaking. Her thighs trembled, and she gripped his shoulders to stay upright. He worked her with practised ease, his thumb rubbing her clit while his fingers slid lower, teasing her entrance. She felt the first wave of something building, coiling deep in her belly, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

“Don't hold back.” He pressed a finger inside her, and she gasped.

He added a second finger, stretching her, and she felt the familiar tightening of her muscles. He curled his fingers upward and found that spot inside her that made her vision go white-out, and she came apart against his hand.

Her body bucked, and a low moan tore from her throat as she got her first-ever orgasm. He kept working her through it, slowing as she shuddered, easing her down with soft strokes until she collapsed against him, breathless and trembling.

He held her there, his hand sliding to the small of her back, his lips pressing to her forehead. “That's my good girl,” he whispered against her skin. “That's my perfect girl.”

She looked up at him, her vision blurry. “I want you inside me.”

She was certain now, even if she wasn't before. The pleasure she had felt from just his fingers had her realise there was more waiting for her.

She wanted him to take her, and make her scream, the same way he always made her mum cry each night whenever they slept together. She'd heard them many times to count.