Page 9 of Chaining Daisy
My index finger slides down to stroke my slit, running up and down along my folds. It’s so wrong, picturing him while I do it. But I haven’t been able to stop myself for over a year—why would I start now?
My crush on my stepfather is my dirty little secret.
No one knows about it. Not even my best friend, Rose. I almost told her once, but the vortex of guilt sucked me under and I’d gotten too scared. Lately, that vortex’s pull has been getting weaker. Obviously, this morning … I nearly crossed a line.
I picture Gunnar’s eyes as he hovered over me in my bed, pinning me down. The shadow that crossed over his expression—the darkness—was probably justconcern. In my head that concern twists into longing. In my head, the moment doesn’t end with him climbing off of me.
Instead, he leans down and captures my lips with his.
He’d kiss me slow and soft, tentatively at first, his lips just brushing against mine until I reached up and twined my fingers in his hair–signaling that this was okay, that I wanted this, that I’ve dreamed of this since the first second I saw him.
He’d get aggressive then, because that’s how he is. Gunnar takes charge and dives right into anything he does. He’d have my shirt off and my panties bunched around my thighs within seconds.
Palming a breast with my left hand, I pretend he’s touching me. “Feel good, baby?” the Gunnar inside my imagination asks.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper aloud, my back leaning against the cold tiles, letting the hot water drip closer to my opening, down the trimmed little patch of hair until it slides down my pussy. The steamy shower heats up the glass door, cocooning me inside, hiding my naughty fantasy from the world.
Putting my clit between my index and middle fingers I rub up and down along the line of my labia and a shiver of pleasure courses through me. He would be gentle but thorough, tracing his fingers along every inch of me, then pulling me open to slide his fingers along my inner seam, testing my wetness, spreading it around. He’d use that dark stare of his, alert for every little catch in my breath.
“You like that?” he’d ask in that gruff voice of his.
The heat between my thighs starts to grow and expand, swirling through me like a solar storm. I move from palming my breast to plucking at my nipple, adding little sparks of sensation to the mix. I widen my stance and thrust my hips up so the hot water traces paths right down to where I need it.
As my hand works me into a frenzy, my mind sends me over the edge.
Gunnar would lean down over me in bed and whisper in my ear, “You’re mine now, you know that? You’re all mine.” I bet he’d slide one hand up from my breast and wrap his fingers around my neck. He’s probably into breath play. It seems like the kind of uber-controlling move that would be up his alley. I hold my breath as I continue to tweak my nipple and touch myself, climbing, climbing, climbing—
“Daisy! You’d better hurry up!” his actual voice floats up the stairs, dimmed by the closed bathroom door.
I pretend he’s talking about something other than breakfast. I pretend he’s ordering me to hurry up and come for him so he can fuck me hard and fast, just like he likes. His hips would slam into me, jostling me across the bed just like the guys in my dirty books do, the pages I inhale in order to escape the world.
I move my hand faster, up and down as my head starts to feel like it’s floating. Flames lick the inside of my thighs as they start to tremble. My head tilts back against the tile, and I imagine Gunnar sucking on my pulse, reveling in how fast he’s making it pump. My jaw goes slack, and my vision blurs, so I shut my eyes as my muscles tense.
I whimper as I get close, turning my head from side to side, pulling harder on my nipple, adding a tiny bite of pain.Hurry up, Daisy,I think in the low voice Gunnar uses whenever he insults the hospital administration.Hurry up and come so I can stretch that pussy with my cock and make you come again.
Fuck.
I buck against my hand, grinding my palm against my low belly as my fingers fly, and I fall apart.
As I come back down from the high, I pant, leaning my head back against the tile and staring at the spray from the shower. Yeah, my dirty little crush is wrong. But it feels so damn good.
DAISY
Ismooth my white cutoff shirt down self-consciously as I hurry downstairs to breakfast. Lily picked this outfit. The short shirt is paired with tight jeans and a loose pink sweater that I absolutely, under no circumstances, am allowed to button closed. She swears it’s what everyone’s wearing. Honestly, the only thing about this outfit that feels normal is the pair of tennis shoes. But … first impressions. I need to look good today.
Gunnar’s eyes scan me over, his mouth tightening when his gaze lands on that expanse of exposed skin between my ribs and navel. He hates it. But at least he doesn’t comment and make my cheeks burn any more than they already are as I pad around the marble counter so I can grab the plate he made up for me. Egg whites with spinach and cheese and half a slice of avocado toast.
“Thanks.” My voice comes out breathy, the way it always does when I’m nervous and my throat tightens up. God, what would he think if he knew what I’d just done in the shower? If he knew I was thinking about him? I’m pretty sure my cheeks turn the same color as my sweater. Bright, blazing pink.
I’m not sure what makes me more nervous; the thought of school or the sight of him looking crisp and put together, facing me in a white, collared white and gray slacks that mold to his body. He’s so sophisticated, so put together. Meanwhile, I’m not at all.
“You’re going to have a great day.” His hand on my shoulder stops me with my fingers on the edge of my plate.
I freeze and turn to look up at him, looking so solemn and certain. “I don’t think you’ve ever been scared of anything in your entire life.”
“You’d be surprised.” He gives me a flat look as his big palm traces down my arm leaving a tingling, utterly inappropriate awareness in its wake. Dammit. I shouldn’t have touched myself to thoughts of him this morning because now my brain is buzzing, naughty thoughts circling me like a cloud of unwanted gnats.
“I just don’t know what to expect. The campus is huge, and all these people will already know each other and have friends. I’m already behind ….” Worries come spilling out one after another.
