Page 12 of The Enforcer

Chapter Five

Joaquin

It had been three days. Three fucking days since I fucked my best friend's daughter, and I was going insane. I couldn't concentrate at morning skate. There was a road trip coming up, one that I was counting down the days for, because I needed to get out of here and try to let everything sink in.

Sex with Kenna was the best I had ever had. Just thinking the words made me feel not only like a dirty, old man lusting after some innocent barely-legal virgin, but it made me feel ridiculous. I had been around the block a time or two before Kenna. I had years of experience on her. I thought I had experienced it all. I didn't realize there was so much to learn - especially from an eighteen-year-old girl who probably only had sex with one other guy before me.

(And honestly, one other guy was too much, in my opinion. Yes, I knew how utterly sexist that made me, that I was okay with sleeping with all of these women before Kenna, but I was not okay with her doing the same, but the animal inside of me didn't give a shit, so neither would I.)

I shouldn't want to have more sex with her. One time should have piqued my curiosity. One time should have inspired me to seek women my own age. One time should have turned me off to a future.

But fuck all that.

That wasn't how life worked.

Fucking Kenna was like having one Dorito. How the fuck could anyone only have one? I needed more of her. Now that I’d tasted her, I couldn't get her out of my system. She was a drug I wanted to bury myself into deeply and never give up. Which was as dangerous as it was crazy, because fuck, she was my best friend's daughter. I never really bought into this whole bro-code frat boys liked to throw around as justification for their stupidity, but even I knew fucking your best friend's daughter was a huge no-no.

The thing was, I didn't even give a shit.

If she came to me and told me to fuck her again - which might have been my fantasy the past three days - I would do it without hesitation.

And that was why I was so desperate to get away for this road trip. I needed to clear my head. I needed to remind myself that this was a terrible idea. I needed to get my feet - and my dick - back on solid ground.

Before I could do any of that, though, I needed to get her the pictures. If I was going to try and get away, rip her off me like she was a bandaid, I needed to do it where there was no excuse for us to see each other. Which meant looking at her pictures. Which meant compiling them into an album. And, worst of all, it meant knowing that these pictures that should belong to solely me would be seen by another guy.

Just thinking that caused my temper to flare up.

I didn't like to think that I was jealous over some kid. I was a fucking professional hockey player for crying out loud. I had a successful photography studio that brought in good money every year as well. I could get laid whenever I wanted. I had a home in the fucking Palacaids. I traveled during the summer. I had three different cars I could pick to drive, depending on my mood.

And yet, this fucker had the one thing I wanted, but didn't have.

He had Kenna. And I would have traded everything just to be with her.

I thought if I had sex with her, I would get her out of my system. I would have tasted the forbidden fruit and decided that while it was lovely to look at and lovely to taste, once was more than my share for this lifetime.

But the opposite was true.

Kenna made me fiend like I was some drug addicted who needed another fix. I felt powerless. I was addicted to her. I craved her. I wanted her. Now that I’d had her, I looked at her like she was mine. Which was fucking insane because she was the last person who would be good for me and the last person I should want.

And yet, I couldn't fucking help it.

I didn't even trust myself to be alone with her anymore because I would have no problem bending her over and fucking her from behind. I wouldn't care. She was just too damn tempting. It was like she was the fire and I was the idiot moth who knew I shouldn't play with it, but flapped my fucking wings to my death anyway.

I shook my head.

This was why the upcoming road trip was so damn important. I needed to clear my head. I needed to get my shit together.

When I pulled up to her driveway, I noted that Matt's car was gone. Thank God. The last thing I needed was for him to see me with an album for Kenna and rifle through it. Pictures of her practically naked, of her after orgasm, after I finger fucked her on the couch, of cum spilling out of her cunt - my cum, because she was mine.

I started getting hard just thinking about it.

I kept the negatives. Fuck, of course I kept the negatives. If I could never have Kenna again, at least I had proof that we were together.

At that moment, the door swung open and Walter stomped out of the house. His face was pinched, his jaw was set. Even his face was red. He did not look happy in the slightest.

"So that's it, then?" He turned, throwing his arms up. I didn't think he saw me even though I was parked on the driveway, album in my lap. I tried to pretend I was on my phone and hadn't noticed them at all, but I was a piss-poor liar. Especially considering I wanted to hear everything that was being said this very minute like a fucking high school gossip.

"Walter, I don't know what to tell you."

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