Page 1 of Daddy's Doll

OLIVIA

THREE MONTHS AGO

Islip out of my room and tiptoe down the staircase. I try not to wake anyone, especially Mom because she’s been in a really weird mood all weekend. She called my siblings and me to come home from college and has been hiding in her room, refusing to speak to anyone nearly the entire time we’ve been here. The cool air of the moonlit night paired with my heart pounding with anticipation sends cold chills over my entire body. None of us knew why she wanted the impromptu family meeting except for the fact that two of our siblings were caught sleeping together. That was a couple weeks ago, though, so the timing is off. Ethan and Isabella have always been the two Hillcrest siblings who do whatever they want, and this situation isn’t any different. Mom was angry when she found out, but Dad took the news a little better. He’s like that though, always cool, no matter what is happening.

The property is quiet, completely shrouded in the stillness of the early morning hours. I make my way through our backyard, and the grass is cool and dewy beneath my bare feet. A tingling sensation begins stirring in my lower belly at the thought of where I’m heading. The last time I saw Dad, the tension between us was so thick that I promised myself the next time I saw him I’d confront him. I’d ask him what is happening, why he looks at me in a way his eyes would never dare rove over my two sisters. I pause when I reach the work shed nestled at the edge of the property because I know this could go two different ways, and I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared for either one of them.

The shed is bathed in a soft, golden glow, the dim light filtering through the dusty windows that probably haven’t been cleaned in years. Inside, the scent of freshly cut wood fills the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the tree line surrounding our land. This is my dad’s sanctuary, where he crafts beautiful pieces of furniture that I’ve admired my entire life. Lately, he’s been pushing me away, and it’s been even worse since I’ve been away from home for my first year of college. When I come home, it’s like he’s angry at me and can’t take his eyes off of me all at the same time. I thought I was imagining it at first, but I think he’s picked up on the crush I have on him, or at the very least, the tension between us. He’s spent nearly the whole time my siblings and I have been home out here working and avoiding everyone. I know I’m the reason. I also know I should leave him alone. It’s wrong. Everything I feel for him is wrong. It should disgust me the way it does him, but it doesn’t. I should feel ashamed because this is so much different from what Ethan and Isabella have going on. I should be thinking about what something like this will do to our family and how what I want from my dad is such a betrayal to Mom. None of that matters to me right now. All I care about is seeing him, taking him in, remembering how being close to him makes me feel for the lonely nights I’m destined for when I head back to school.

I push the door further open so gently, but the hinges creak softly, and the sound is deafening in the silence. My breath catches when I see him, and even though I’m fully aware that it’s wrong, nothing could drag me away from him. I might only be eighteen, but I know what I want. He's arched over his current fixation, just as I knew he would be. His strong silhouette illuminated by the fragile glow of the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. My dad is shirtless, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his muscles flexing as he works diligently on a wooden rocking chair.

My dad is ruggedly handsome, with cropped black hair and a near-constant five-o’clock shadow that only makes his green eyes seem more vibrant. He glances up as I enter, and there's a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked with the same blank look he’s been giving me for the last few months. "What are you doing up at this hour?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

I move closer to him, the wooden floor cool against my feet. I'm dressed in a thin tank top and short shorts, and the cool night breeze sends a shiver down my spine. I don't answer his question but instead reach out to touch his arm lightly, my fingers tracing the contours of strained, corded muscles. I can’t focus on anything else other than getting closer to him.

Dad inhales sharply at my touch, his moss green eyes darkening with desire so apparent that even if he flat out said he didn’t want me at this moment, I wouldn’t believe him. This tension has been between us for months, and sometimes the way he looks at me, I can tell he wants things from me that no one else would ever understand. I don’t recall ever seeing him look at another woman the way he looks at me, not even Mom.

Especially not Mom.

I step closer, my hand now resting on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palm. "I couldn't sleep," I confess, my voice sounding sweet even to my own ears. I notice that he pulls the soft, compliant side out of me. "I saw the light on, and I was curious what you were working on," I say, but my words sound like nothing but humming to my own ears now. I’m zeroed in on him and the way he’s reacting to me. I can see the thick muscles of his abdomen tighten, and I wonder if it’s for my benefit. Does he notice the way my body reacts to him?

His gaze drops to the chair, and he smiles ruefully, and I want to know what’s going through his mind right now. "It's almost done," he says, his voice husky. "I've been putting my heart into it, thinking about how it would look on the porch of the cabin." Dad has been building a cabin out in the wilderness and away from civilization. Mom will never let our family move there full-time when it’s finished, but it’s something he’s wanted for so long. She won’t allow any of us kids to go with him when he’s working on it, but I’m hoping to see it someday. The way his eyes light up when he talks about it makes me feel sullen that I’ll never get to see it.

My thoughts of the cabin are shaken out of my mind when Dad abruptly moves closer to me, his feet only shifting slightly, but it’s enough to make my breath catch in my throat. His eyes flick from mine down to my lips for a brief moment before he looks away, turning his body back toward the rocking chair. He keeps doing this to me, making me think he wants me and then ripping that notion away before his lips meet mine. I’m not going to let it go this time. I need an answer one way or another. I move my hand to his back, my fingers tracing the lines of his muscles there in the same way I did his chest. "And who do you imagine rocking in it?" I ask, my voice a shaking whisper. I’m usually shy with him, too nervous to meet his eyes, but he’s not pushing me away or telling me to go back to bed, and that spurs me on.

He looks back at me, his eyes filled with a hunger that matches my own. "You," he says simply, his voice rough. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but I know what desire sounds like in his voice. He wants me right now. He takes a deep breath and his teeth bite into his bottom lip before he finally admits, "Us. I imagine us in this chair."

I take a step closer, my breasts pressing against the hot skin of his back, and only my thin tank top separates us, the tension between us palpable. "Show me," I breathe, my lips brushing against his ear.

He doesn't need any further encouragement. He turns to me, his hands finding my waist as he pulls me against him with such force that he steals my breath for a second time tonight. Our mouths meet in a searing kiss, a culmination of months of denial and restraint on both of our parts. His lips are warm and demanding, his tongue seeking entrance to my mouth as he kisses me like a man who has been deprived of something he needs for far too long.

I moan softly, my hands moving to tangle in his dark hair pulling him closer to my trembling body. Our kiss is fierce and passionate, almost like a wildfire that is consuming us both from the inside out. He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his hips. I feel the hardness of his body pressing against the softness of mine. His hard cock is straining against his jeans, and even through my cotton shorts, I can feel the intense heat of his body.

He lifts me up on the rough flat top of his workbench, the wood cool against my bare skin as he gently lays me down on it. Our kisses are desperate and hungry, a tangle of lips and tongues, and I arch my back, pressing my body up against his. I want to remember how every inch of him feels over top of me because even in this moment, I know that it could be ripped away from me at any second. I want to remember this night for the rest of my life.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me. "Tell me to stop," Dad rasps and his voice is so husky with need that if my panties weren’t already soaked from his kisses and the way he’s holding me, they would be now.

I jerk my head because it’s the only thing I can muster with my own desire burning fiercely. "Don’t stop," I finally whisper when he doesn’t move. I don’t want him to change his mind. I don’t want to go back to that cold, unforgiving dorm room in that fucking castle they pretend is a school and think about what this night would have been like if I’d just been brave enough to tell him what I need.

And with that, the tension that has been building between us for so long finally snaps. Our bodies entwine in a frenzy of passion, the wooden floor beneath his feet creaking with our movements. He pulls my tank top down over my breasts, pulling his mouth away from mine and then dipping his lips to one of my nipples. The world around us fades into a hazy blur as Dad’s lips claim mine in a passionate kiss again, the dark stubble on his cheeks and chin deliciously scraping against the sensitive skin of my face. The intensity of our desire seems to electrify the air, pulling us deeper into something so forbidden. I can’t fathom the fallout of this moment when the rest of our family finds out.

But then, a scream shatters the moment like fragile glass breaking around us. We pull apart, breathless and wide-eyed, our bodies still pressed close together. The sound echoes in the shed, freezing us in place.

2

OLIVIA

Dad’s grip on my waist tightens, possessiveness flaring in his eyes as he instinctively pulls me back into him, shielding me from whatever unknown threat lurks beyond his shed's walls. In this moment, his protectiveness feels more intimate than the way he kissed me or touched me tonight.

Silence follows the scream, and it's so thick that it feels like it’s going to suffocate me. The world outside seems to hold its breath as if waiting for something to happen. But we hear nothing, only the eerie stillness of the forbidden moment we should never have had.

It’s harsh when the distant wail of sirens cuts through the quiet, the sound growing louder with each passing second. Flashing red and blue lights pierce the darkness, casting erratic shadows across the walls of the shed where we’re still glued to each other.

I feel a shiver of unease, my heart pounding with anxiety, and I’m almost ashamed to admit it has little to do with the thought of someone being hurt or in trouble but rather that our moment is over. I can sense it before it happens, and I hate that invisible connection we have right now. Dad releases his grip on me, his attention now focused on the commotion outside. The possessiveness that burned in his eyes just moments ago is gone, replaced by a cool detachment that I know all too well.

Without a word, he turns and heads toward the shed's entrance. I start to follow him, but he turns back to me, his eyes flashing to my uncovered chest. His gaze is searing when it reaches my face in a silent demand to cover up. I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment, and only when I've fixed my top does he head back out the door with me shadowing his every move. I can’t even wonder what the reason for the lights and sirens could possibly be because I’m suffering from the whiplash from Dad’s hot and cold attitude. He doesn't hold my hand, doesn't keep me close. It's as if what just happened between us meant nothing to him, as if I mean nothing to him.

When we step outside, all I see is nothing but chaos and confusion. Police cars line the front lawn, their flashing lights bathing the property. Officers move about, their expressions tense and grim.

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