Lahat ng Kabanata ng Watch Me Explode, Daddy: Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

Holiday Heat(I)I stretched my long legs out across the full length of my childhood bed, the mattress dipping under my weight just like it always had. The faded One Direction poster still hung crooked on the wall directly across from me, and at least a dozen Beanie Babies sat upright on the shelves like silent little judges of everything that had ever happened in this room.I was home from college for the holidays, and this was the best I could manage.“Jillian?” A soft, older voice drifted up from downstairs. My mom.“Yes, Mom…” I answered in that automatic, slightly whiny voice I still used around her.Her head appeared in the doorway a second later. “Do you have everything you need?” She glanced around the room, taking it all in. “We’ve tried to keep everything the same… as much as possible, anyway…”I was almost twenty, yet she still saw the gangly fifteen-year-old version of me. If only she knew how many times I had quietly gotten myself off in this exact bed as a teenager. Or th

I sat there under the spray, naked and dripping, watching her rub herself. I wasn’t sure what she expected next.Rosa came quickly, body shuddering, a soft moan escaping her lips. Then she helped me stand.This time the kiss she gave me was gentle, almost tender.“That was quite fun,” she said, smiling. “You liked?”The sudden shift left me off-balance after how intense she had been only moments before. I kissed her back, tentative. “Yes… I liked it.”The rest of the day passed in a blur of shopping and errands. After dinner Zach announced he was meeting old high-school friends and wouldn’t be home until late.Rosa, my parents, and I settled in the living room for television. Every time I glanced her way she was smiling at me. She wore a long sundress under a light sweater; whenever she drew her knees up I caught flashes of bare pussy—she clearly wasn’t wearing panties. I kept expecting one of my parents to notice, but they remained completely oblivious.Eventually they headed to bed.

I floated down from the high with my legs still shaky, cleaned up in the bathroom, then collapsed face-down on the bed like a starfish and let sleep take me under. When I finally woke, the sky outside my window had already turned dark. A car door slammed somewhere below, followed almost immediately by my mother’s loud, bright laugh echoing through the house.“Lila! Mom’s home!”She didn’t knock. She simply pushed my door open with Damien right behind her, both of them dressed for something formal—Mom in diamonds, Damien in a sharp black suit that made him look even more severe than usual. “We have a charity gala tonight,” she said while checking her earrings in my mirror. “Be good, study or whatever. We’ll be back late.”I stood by the window and watched their Bentley disappear down the long driveway until the house felt too quiet, too empty. Thirty minutes later the front door opened again. My heart jumped hard against my ribs. They couldn’t possibly be back already. I grabbed the fi

I once dreamed of becoming the next Christiane Amanpour. I pictured myself climbing the ranks at CNN until I earned a post as an international correspondent, microphone in hand in some distant conflict zone. Those early steps never happened. By senior year at the College of Charleston I had a steady boyfriend, Greg, who believed an entry-level CNN job in Atlanta—only a four-and-a-half-hour drive away—would put too much strain on us. He had already been accepted to the Medical University of South Carolina right here in Charleston, and he made it clear he needed me close during the chaotic years ahead.So I never applied. On the days my editor hands me assignments I never imagined writing, I still wonder what it might have felt like to work inside a major media machine. Because Greg needed me in Charleston, my job options were limited. I took whatever I could get.Condé Nast launched a new magazine called Sugar and Salt, aimed at millennial foodies and headquartered in Charleston. We sh

“Wait. What about the interview?” I call after him, still unsteady from the kiss.He answers over his shoulder without slowing. “If we’re not going to fuck, you are going to have to come back tomorrow.”I watch, incredulous, as he disappears into the bar. What an asshole.With the taste of Winston still on my lips I arrive home late. Greg is already asleep. I slide into bed beside him; the familiar warmth of his body reaches me across the sheets. I admit the kiss and the press of Winston’s body against mine had excited me. It is Thursday—not our designated night—but I make an attempt.I ease closer, kiss his neck, and massage his cock until it begins to harden. Greg wakes with a startled snort.“What are you doing, Lindsey? Are you crazy? It’s Thursday.” He lifts my hand from him and flings it away.“Sorry.”I retreat to my side of the bed, thoughts circling Winston again. He had looked incredibly hot. He was an amazing kisser. He even kissed on Thursdays. I fall asleep still turning