Page 3 of Artist

“I’m fine.” I snap. “Or I would be if you ever answered my question?”

“Question?”

He forgot. I thrust my hand into the air and flip off the ceiling fan. When it falls, it thuds against the suddenly aching slit between my thighs.

When did I get horny?

Whatever.

I run my finger gently over my damp panties, teasing myself to the sound of Penn’s breathing. I forget that he asked a question too for a moment, but I remember when he repeats my name.

“Why didn’t you come?”

It’s silent for so long that I start to think he won’t reply, but when he finally speaks, his voice has become strained and rough. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I should have been there. I know I haven’t been around lately-.”

“You know, right? That’s what this is all about?” My fingers slip beneath the waistband of my panties and slide slowly through my sex, spreading wetness over my clit and sending pleasure through my lower belly. “You knew I wanted you. You knew, and you were so horrified that I, a consenting adult, might want to suck your cock, that you had toavoid mefor two years.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize what’s happening. I’m drunk and saying too much, my breathing is growing ragged, and a little moan escapes my lips, but it’s like my mouth and fingers are working independently of my brain.

I can’t stop.

“Or is it just that you’re too important for me now, Penn?”

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I shut up and stop touching myself in what is possibly theleastsexy conversation of my life?

Through the phone, Penn lets out a breath in a long hiss. “Daisy. What the hell are you doing?”

“Touching my pussy, Daddy. Should I stop?”

I hear a low groan, and another gush of wetness gathers at my entrance. How many times have I fantasized about calling him that?

“Tell me where you are.” He demands and I ignore him, my fingers moving faster, circling my clit and making the coil inside me tighten. It’s always so hard for me to finish, but alone in the dark with only Penn listening, it isn’t difficult at all.

“It feels so good,” I whine, rolling my hips into my own touch. “Did you know yours was the first cock I ever saw? It was right before I left for college. I went to your house, and I saw you through the window. You were so beautiful.”

My arm is starting to ache, but I’m getting warm all over, my breaths are coming in uneven pants, but I can’t stop.

I remember that day so clearly, even years later. The broad expanse of his chest, the line of muscles in his thighs, the dark trail of hair that led from his belly button down to the thick cock hanging between his legs.

Even more, though, I remember how seeing him made me feel; confused and hot and cold and needy all at once. I’d been so desperate that I practically ran home, locking myself in my bedroom and coaxing a messy, confused orgasm from my body for the very first time.

Penn was like family to me, practically my uncle, and I couldn’t understand why seeing him made me feel like that or why it made me begin to crave a whole other kind of relationship with him.

I thought there had to be something wrong with me. At moments like this, I’m still pretty sure there is.

“Daisy. Sweetheart.” He sounds like he’s in pain.

“Do you want me to stop, Daddy?” I moan that forbidden word again, rubbing frantically. I’m so close, every muscle inside me has grown taught, and I’m right on the edge of a cliff. I’m going to fall. “Tell me to stop. I’m so close, tell me to stop- “

“Come! Come for me, baby, let me hear you-”Penn’s rough order is roared through the phone, and I break.

My back bows off the bed as pleasure rushes through me right there in the middle of my empty apartment, crying out the name of my father’s oldest friend for only him to hear.

Then, it’s over, and for a long time, neither of us speaks.

As though my orgasm killed off the last of my intoxication, I stare numbly at the ceiling, unable to wrap my head around what I just did.

No, no, no.

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