CHAPTER HUNDRED-ONE

VIOLET POV

My legs are jittery as I cross the landing to the safety of West’s room.

      Shit. Shit, shit and total shit.

      I want nothing more than to call Maggie Cooner right now and tell her about my epic seduction fail. She’d laugh and tell me I’m a fool, and I’d have to laugh too, even though the thought of it is already burning me up, confessing my V status on his landing like some kind of stupid imbecile.

      I don’t even know what came over me, and maybe that means he’s right, maybe it’s some kind of trauma shit that’s got me all worked up and acting weird.

      Maybe that’s why I’m a freak enough to want him to be my daddy one minute, and want him to be my lover the next.

      How is he supposed to think I’m all grown up now, after I made such an epic fail of the whole sorry thing?

      But I know that’s not true. Because I felt him. And he was hard, hard and big. Big enough to make me nervous. Big enough to make it feel so real.

I turn West’s little lamp on and look down at my belly, and he’s left a mark, nothing but a faint little smear to show where his cock pressed against me. It makes the tingles between my legs come back so hard.

      I want him.

      I really want him.

      I’ve never wanted to give myself to anyone before, not like I want to give myself to Spencer.

I sit on West’s bed and stare at the crack in the doorway, the door I’ve left slightly open.

 I hear the water start up in the bathroom as I slip between West’s sheets and pull them to my chin. It’s so natural for my thighs to ease open, so easy for my fingers to slip down there and rub at my clit until I’m squirming all over again, and I don’t even care anymore, don’t care that this is his little girl’s room and he’s taking care of me, I don’t care that it’s disrespectful and stupid and not what I should do.

      I don’t care about any of those things, because I felt him, and I know he wants me. I know he wants me like that. And it’s the most amazing feeling, to be wanted by a man like Spencer. A real man.

      A perfect man.

 I wonder if he’s going to be jerking off in there again, and the thought gives me flutters of panic that I won’t be able to watch him.

I wonder if he’s already convincing himself that he doesn’t want me after all and I’m nothing but a dirty girl who needs to go home.

      In my imagination, brave Violet leaps from the bed, whips off her nightdress and steps into the steaming shower, kneels before him, opens her mouth. I wonder what he tastes like.

      I wonder if he thinks the same about me.

      None of my wondering stops the dance of my fingers around my clit, none of it stops the ripples that rock through my body as I go over the edge and twitch and moan and struggle for breath.

      Nothing stops the pounding of my heart as I realise the water’s stopped in the bathroom.

      I feel so small as he appears in the doorway, such a silly little thing as I hide under West’s covers, my breath still quick from playing with myself. I hope he doesn’t notice.

      His hair is damp, just like mine feels on the pillow under my head, and he looks so nice.

      His belt isn’t tied tight this time, it’s loose, barely wrapped around him. His robe shows a ridge of hard chest. A shadow of hair. And my heart is thudding all over again.

      I wish I could see the rest of him.

He must know that, because I can’t stop looking.

      “We need to talk,” he says. “But not tonight. Tonight is a school night.”

      I nod, and I don’t even know why I’m nodding.

      “We need to set some ground rules, Violet.”

      I keep nodding.

      “We need to work out how this is going to be.”

      My head keeps on nodding, and I’m smiling a little too, because I think that sounds good. It has to be good, because he’s not freaking out already and telling me to leave.

      It has to be good, because his robe is hanging further open and he doesn’t even care.

      He doesn’t care that I can see he’s hard again.

      That I can see he still wants me.

      I can hardly breathe as he steps into the room.

      I can hear my heart in my ears as he walks to the side of my bed and flicks off that little light.

      My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but they’re too late to see him slip his dressing gown to the floor. I can only hear the rustle of fabric against skin.

  And then the cold air as he pulls the covers aside.

      The warmth as he slides in next to me.

      The sadness as I realise he’s wearing underwear, that the hardness of him feels so far away.

      He pulls me close, my back to his chest, and it feels so right to wriggle into him.

      His knees come up and hitch mine, his arm creeps around my waist and holds me tight, and his breath is on my neck. It tickles and my breasts tickle too and I want him to touch me so bad.

      “We’ll talk,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

      “Okay,” I say, and it sounds so dorky and pathetic.

      “Ground rules, Violet. It’s all about the ground rules.”

      I nod. Again.

      I feel like a stupid kid. Again.

      He’s so big in this bed, so big next to me.

      And this stupid little kid feels safe at least.

      How I want his hand to move from my belly. Up or down, I don’t care which.

But it doesn’t move. Doesn’t move an inch. Not even when I wriggle and squirm and feel his cock still hard against my ass.           

  My body doesn’t feel like such a stupid kid at all. My body has a life of its own.

      My body knows exactly what it wants to do.

      But Spencer won’t give it to me.

 He breathes into my hair and holds me tight, and finally he kisses my neck and it gives me tingles on top of tingles.

      It takes me ages to calm down enough to go to sleep. His breathing is even and peaceful, his body so still as I squirm, and eventually I feel that, too.

      I’m right on the edge of dreams as he whispers goodnight.

      “Goodnight, Violet.” Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

      It feels natural.

      Right.

      This feels right.

      And the words that come next feel too right to be wrong.

      "Goodnight, Daddy.”

      I hold my breath, scared he’s going to pull away, ready with the stupid apologies and the excuses that I’m half-asleep and don’t know what I’m saying.

      But he doesn’t.

      He doesn’t pull away.

I feel his cock against my ass all over again.

      But he doesn’t say a word.