Page 49 of Sweet Poison

"Have some, Dad," she said. "It's really good."

I frowned as I looked at her. "Did you wash your hands?"

She stopped, her eyes widening, and I gave her a stern look. "Oh, did you use those hands to give Miss Moore a brownie?"

"No!" She immediately protested. "She picked one up herself and broke it in half for the both of us."

"Good, but imagine if you had.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay. Now go in now to wash your hands."

Without a word, she hurried back to the bathroom. "You really decided to guilt-trip the baby because you wanted us?—"

She caught herself, as she realized how inappropriate and presumptive she would sound, and flushed red.

"Because I wanted us alone? Is that what you were about to say?" I asked softly.

She lifted up her glass of cranberry juice, got up, and she was about to walk away when I caught her hand.

"Escaping again?" I asked.

"Not escaping, I got stuff to do."

Her tongue lightly grazed the top of her lips. I didn’t even know if it was intentional or if she was just trying to drive me mad, but whatever it was, it was working. I could see my daughter through the window. She had found a white cat and was playing with it. Fortunately for her, I heard her father’s heavy step returning from the wine cellar. He was heading for the dining room.

I had no option but to let her go, but before I did, I slipped my hand under her dress, grabbed her pussy, and pushing aside the crotch of her panties, I thrust my middle finger into her. She was so soaking wet that my finger made a squelching sound.

She gasped in shock and glared at me, but I was far from apologetic.

"Should I be sorry?" I growled, as I roughly rammed my finger in and out of her.

Her mouth opened and closed in shock. It was taboo, dirty, and quick, but I knew she was so turned on, that she was already close to a climax. I had no intention of giving her release, though. No, she was going to suffer as I did. I could hear her father leave the dining room and make his way in our direction. Her eyes were wild with desire. Staring at her flushed face, I pulled my finger out and smeared her own slickness on her lips, before I casually moved away from her.

She was breathing hard when her father walked in.

“Ah, there you all are,” her father noted.

"Hey, Dad," she greeted thickly, but I noticed she didn’t dare turn and look at him.

“Where’s the little one?” he asked, and I could see that he had noticed the thick atmosphere in the room because he was looking intently at his daughter’s back.

“Outside. Looks like she found your cat,” I said casually.

"Montana, can you check if we have any grapes left in the fridge? It’ll be nice to have some with the cheese I got from Alan."

"Alright," she said and walked over to the fridge, but her voice was still shaky as fuck.

Chapter 30

Montana

I found the grapes and washed some, but I was shaking. My fingers were trembling. I stared out of the window. Anya had pulled Tolstoy into her arms and was kissing his head. The sun was setting on the horizon and the sky was red. Everything looked so normal.

But…

Wow!

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