DADDY'S LITTLE SLUT

CHAPTER 9

The rest of the afternoon dragged in the best and worst way.

I stayed in the tiny black bikini for another hour, sitting on the living-room couch with a book I wasn’t reading, legs loosely crossed so the wet spot between my thighs stayed hidden from Lily when she finally came back inside. Every time I shifted I felt the slow, sticky slide of c*m—Marcus’s and the stranger’s—leaking out of me into the soaked fabric. My cunt was swollen and tender. Walking to the kitchen for water made fresh trails run down my inner thighs.

Marcus kept finding reasons to pass through the room. He’d glance at me, eyes dropping straight to the dark patch on my bikini bottoms, then look away like it burned him. Once, when Lily was in the bathroom, he walked behind the couch, leaned down, and spoke right against my ear.

“Still dripping?”

I nodded without turning around.

“Good.”

That was all he said before Lily’s footsteps returned.

Around four we all ended up back by the pool. Lily swam and sunbathed. I stretched out on a lounge chair under the umbrella, the tiny bottoms riding up between my cheeks, the top barely containing my t**s. Marcus sat a few chairs away with a beer and his phone, but I caught him watching every time I arched my back or let one knee fall open. The sun and the leftover mess between my legs kept me in a constant low, filthy simmer. I didn’t come again, but I stayed wet the entire time.

By six the heat finally broke. We went inside, showered separately (I stood under the water and pushed two fingers into myself just to feel how open and used I still was), and changed for dinner. I put on another short sundress—no bra, no panties. The soft cotton clung to the dampness still coating my thighs.

Dinner was simple: grilled steaks Marcus cooked on the deck, corn, salad. We ate at the same dining table he’d bent me over hours earlier. I could still see a faint smear on the wood if I looked closely. Every time I shifted in my chair I felt air kiss my bare, sticky cunt.

Lily did most of the talking.

“Okay, serious plans for tomorrow night,” she said, pointing her fork between me and her dad. “There’s this new club about twenty minutes away—Neon something. Open till three. We’re going. Vanessa, you’re coming. No excuses. I already texted a couple of the guys from the pool. It’s going to be packed.”

I glanced at Marcus. His expression didn’t change, but his hand tightened around his beer bottle.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, voice even. “Those places get rough.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Dad. I’m twenty-one. Vanessa’s twenty. We’re not kids. You can come too if you’re that worried. Be our creepy older chaperone.” She grinned. “Or stay home and enjoy the quiet. Either way, we’re going out and getting drunk and dancing until our feet hurt.”

I took a slow sip of water. “I’m in. Sounds fun.”

Under the table I let my bare foot brush against Marcus’s calf. He didn’t pull away.

The rest of dinner stayed light—Lily describing the outfit she planned to wear, asking if I brought anything slutty enough, complaining that her ex had started liking her i********: stories again. Marcus answered when spoken to, but his eyes kept drifting to me. Every time I leaned forward and the sundress gaped, every time I licked salt off my lower lip, I felt the tension coil tighter between us.

By nine-thirty the plates were cleared and Lily was yawning.

“I’m wiped. Pool plus sun plus food coma. Going to bed early so I can actually function tomorrow night.” She stood and stretched. “Night, you two. Don’t stay up too late being boring adults.”

She kissed her dad on the cheek, waved at me, and disappeared up the stairs. Her bedroom door closed. A few minutes later the house settled into that familiar quiet.

Marcus and I were alone again.

He looked at me across the kitchen, eyes dark.

“Nightclub,” he said quietly. “With the same guys from the pool.”

I walked over to him, slow, until I was standing between his knees where he leaned against the counter. The sundress was so short that when I shifted, the hem brushed the tops of my bare thighs.

“Jealous again, Mr. Hale?” I asked softly. “Worried I’ll let another one of them f**k me in a bathroom stall while you’re home alone thinking about it?”

His hand slid up the back of my thigh, under the dress, and cupped my bare, still-messy cunt. Two fingers pushed inside me like they belonged there.

“You’re not going anywhere tomorrow night without feeling me first,” he said, voice low and rough. “Now get upstairs. We’ve got hours before she wakes up… and I plan to use every single one of them.”