Page 38 of Off Limits

Sorry. Her tone is petulant and facetious, not sorry. It’s too much like her mother’s voice when she came back from some drug-fuelled fugue with some toxic movie star. ‘I’m sorry, okay? Geez.’

I’m so angry I’m reckless. I can understand why they say that people see red when they’re upset. The power of my rage is blinding me, crowding in at the periphery of my vision.

With a sudden jerk of the steering wheel, I pull over to the side of the road and come to a jarring halt. Dani grips the sides of her seat. It’s uncharacteristic for me to be so angry and impulsive, but all I can think about is her in that car with that fucking kid doing God knows what. And I find myself wondering, suddenly, about this kid Dante that she lost her virginity to. Dante, who fucked her. What did he look like? Some teenage nightmare like Kye? A blond, golden-skinned douchebag?

“Show me your panties,” I command her.

The whites of her eyes show. “What?”

“Show them to me.” I’m not in the mood for games. All I can think is that she stole the sexy panties back from my drawer. Visions of Kye’s hands squeezing the flesh of her ass over the sheer lace of Melanie’s panties are dancing through my head.

A bright flush rises on her cheeks as she tentatively pinches the hem of her skirt, looking back up at me for confirmation.

“Show me.” My voice is tight, taut with the inappropriate energy of the moment.

What the fuck am I doing?

But even as the thought passes through my mind, I don’t falter for a second, staring intently as Dani hesitantly lifts her plaid skirt up over her creamy, smooth thighs, and shows me the small white triangle of her panties.

A low, urgent pressure slams through me at the sight of the thin strip of white cotton fabric covering that tender place between her legs, and I exhale audibly.

“What were you doing in the car with Kye?”

“N-nothing, Dad. I was just sitting there. He was the one…he was smoking up.”

“So you were just sitting there doing nothing?” I can barely keep the edge of sarcasm out of my voice.

“Yes!”

“You sure he wasn’t touching you?”

“No!” She’s indignant.

“No?” I reach for the exposed strip of panties and press two fingers right at the apex, pushing them between her thighs, and her breath hitches. “You sure he wasn’t touching you here?”

“He wasn’t.” Her voice quavers.

I push my fingers in deeper, pushing against the softness of her pussy and trying to find her clit. “Because don’t forget, I saw you sucking that boy’s cock, remember? And you told me you liked it, giving him head. And now you’re trying to tell me that you were alone in a car with him and he wasn’t trying to get into your panties?” I feel wetness spreading against the cotton fabric, but when she spreads her knees, rolling her head back against the headrest, I pull my hand away.

“Dad…”

“Bad girl.” With a sharp flick of the wrist, I slap her mound, right against her clit, and she jerks in surprise. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’re already grounded. I’m going to have to find some other way of punishing you.”

Danica

WHEN WE GET inside, Jean-Luc takes a seat on the couch and beckons me over. I approach with trepidation, unsure of what to expect.

“I don’t want you spending any time with Kye.”

“I know.” My voice comes out sounding small. “I’m sorry, Jean-Luc.”

“I’m sorry, who?” He lifts one eyebrow. The line of his mouth is hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Good.” He shifts back into the couch and pats his legs. “Bend over my knee.”

I freeze. “Dad?”

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