Page 17 of Off Limits

“And you and Dante…?” I try to sound as casual as I can, while all the muscles across my neck and shoulders seize up. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest I wonder if she can hear it. “You…?”

“Yeah,” she answers quietly, and swallows. “Twice.”

“And was it okay? Did you like it?”

She shrugs. “Yeah.”

Somewhere out there, in the big city of Vancouver, is a child named Dante I now have to kill.

What the fuck kind of name is Dante?

Although…what the fuck kind of name is Kye?

Kids these days.

Jesus.

“Dad?” asks Danica, tilting her head and lifting an eyebrow. “You okay?”

I realize I’m frowning and shake it off, giving her a rueful smile. “It’s hard for any father to realize their daughter is growing up, is all,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “This Dante…”—the name tastes vile in my mouth—“Did you, or do you, love him?”

“Love? Dad, c’mon. If you’re about to give me the birds and the bees talk... “

“I’m not. It’s just…it’s a big deal, sex. Even if everywhere around you, you get the message that it isn’t, it is. Does your mom know about Dante?”

“No.” No surprise there. Melanie has little interest in anyone outside herself, even her child. “But that’s so hokey, Dad. Are you telling me you’ve loved everyone you had sex with?”

The question surprises me. It’s adult, and cynical, and unlike the Dani I think I know.

And she’s caught me out, of course. I’ve probably loved only a very few of the people I’ve slept with. I’m not sure how to answer.

“See?” she scoffs, victorious, and pokes her toe into my thigh. “Can we stop talking about this now? It’s uncomfortable.”

For a moment I don’t say anything. I eye my sweet young girl—so beautiful, luminous, and vibrant. She’s so like her mother and yet so different, so full of life and love. Knowing she’s had sex with someone brings out a strange possessiveness in me. My eyes wander over the rounded curve of her breasts under her cotton top, and the concave plane of her stomach leading down to the secret place between her legs. To think that a man—or a boy—has been there, has had her… I’m grappling with my feelings, and more than that, with how inappropriate they’re verging on being. My stepdaughter is a grown woman, even if she will always be my little girl.

“Okay,” I concede, patting her foot and holding her bright blue gaze. The light from the kitchen behind her catches her hair, illuminating it like a golden halo. She’s like an angelic version of her mother when we first met, and for a moment time seems to suspend. I let my hand run slowly up the silky smooth skin of her calf, and have the terrible thought that she’s softer than Melanie.

She is, though, and some dark, animal part of me wants to grab her smooth calf and yank her towards me, so I can pin her down and find out how much softer she is everywhere.

“Time for bed,” I manage to say. My voice comes out low, and quiet, and still I can’t take my eyes off her. She stares back as if I haven’t said anything. It doesn’t matter what I’ve said.

I trace small circles on her skin with my thumb and fingers. She feels so good.

Did she feel good to Dante? To Kye? I must furrow my brow at the thought because she sits up, breaking the moment.

“Daddy,” she says playfully, flinging her arms around my neck and planting a kiss on my cheek. “You know no boy could ever compare to you.” The warm cotton candy smell of her floods my nostrils and I get a rush like a contact high, the hairs on my arms standing on end as I feel the blood rise to the surface of my skin. My heart pounds. I hug her back and marvel at the small, solid feel of her under my big palms. She’s thin and wiry like her mother, all bones, and it feels shockingly familiar and completely novel all at the same time.

When she pulls away, I’m disoriented.

“‘Night.” She stands and walks away as if it were the easiest thing in the world to do. As if she weren’t almost in danger in my arms, as if I hadn’t almost lost control and grabbed her and pinned her down underneath me.

“Good night,” I say in a thick voice. I watch her climb the spiral staircase with a frozen look plastered on my face, afraid to reveal anything. But all I can think about is her small, pale body underneath some boy’s—some kid named Dante pumping into her for the first time; Kye fucking her mouth. Blood roars into my cock, making it throb in my pants.

I scrub a hand over my face in shame, shocked and horrified by myself. I need to be better. Danica deserves better.

But after checking the reflection in the highest part of the window to make sure her bedroom door is closed, I pull down my zipper and slide a hand down my pants, finding my cock, and rub one out fast and hard on the couch, coming almost immediately to mental images of my stepdaughter getting fucked.

Danica

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