Big Daddy Wants Me

14: Annabelle.

It hasn't been a good week in the Henderson household, to say the least.

I guess neither Josh or I could bring ourselves to address the things that had happened recently. We'd just gone too far. What was there possibly to say?

Josh and I have just been outright avoiding each other all week - we are not even pretending not to. If we are both home, we stay in our rooms. But I am trying to stay out as much as I can, and it seems Josh is doing that, too.

The morning after his date with Kiara, he'd tried to talk to me about what happened. As if the man who had clearly gotten off cumming into my friend's big sister's mouth while I watched could just switch back to being dear old dad in the morning. It was so ridiculous.

He'd given me the ol' "Honey, can we talk about what happened?" and I lost my mind, screaming at him to f**k off and leave me alone. He'd looked so shocked — hurt, even — that I'd got my wish. He just walked out of the kitchen, and we literally hadn't spoken to each other since.

Our house, which anal-retentive Josh usually keeps spotlessly clean, is filthy. Dishes are no longer being washed and nothing is being put away. Everything is coming apart, and I am heartbroken. I need to move out now, even though it's still a few months till college, it is just too f****d up here.

I happen to be home when Sammy dropped by because Josh is out. I'm working on my tan in the backyard when I finally realize the doorbell is ringing incessantly inside the house. I reluctantly trudge over to the door in my bikini, ready to tell off a Jehovah's Witness, and find Sammy waiting on the stoop.

"Hey," she says, eying me up and down.

"Hey," I answer, hesitating for a moment before opening the door wider to invite her in. "What's up?"

She steps into the foyer, and I can see her eyes scanning the mess — the pile of shoes and bags by the door and the heap of dishes and packaging on the kitchen island beyond. "I just wanted to drop by... I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, come in," I say. "Why didn't you text?"

She is still looking around. "Oh, I figured... might as well say hi in person."

I invite her to the backyard and she follows me through the house.

"Jesus Christ," she says as we walk through the kitchen. "What is happening here?"

"Nothing," I reply nonchalantly, stepping out the patio doors and making my way back to my lounge chair. "Josh's just been working a lot this week."

She makes a skeptical noise and lays out on the chair beside me. "Is that why he hasn't called my sister?"

"What?"

"Kiara's pissed. She said they had a nice time on Friday and he never called her. Not a text or anything."

"Oh," I shrug. I don't know what the f**k to say. "I guess."

"Do you think they did it?" she asks in a naughty voice, trying to shock me.

She has no idea...

I shrug.

"Seriously, Anna," Sammy turns to face me, looking concerned. "Is everything all right here? What the f**k is happening? You look like s**t, by the way."

I haven't been sleeping and I know I look exhausted. That's why I am laying out today — I am hoping to get some color back on my face.

"Everything's fine," I say tightly, wishing she would leave.

"You can talk to me," she says quietly. "I'm your best friend. And friends don't lie to each other."

Her comment pulls me back from wherever I'd gone to try to escape all the emotions I am feeling. Sammy is my best friend. We've been best friends since grade six when we'd been the last girls to stay up giggling at a mutual friend's sleepover. We have always told each other everything. I have always been able to trust Sammy.

But how can I tell Sammy about how I am changing? How my interest in s*x is pushing me beyond the normal limits that people have; how my Onlyfans account was veering further and further away from hers, which is strictly suggestive bathing suit pictures; how, when I masturbate now, which is currently about three times a day, all I can picture is my stepfather's face... my stepfather staring at me, his eyes glazing over with lust, as he cums?

A wave of sadness washes over me. My stepfather, whom I love, and who now can't look at me because of the way I've been acting. The things I've done.

I start to cry.

"Oh Anna!" cries Sammy, jumping up and then kneeling down beside me. She takes one of my hands in hers. "Everything is going to be okay. What's going on?"

"I just need to move out," I blurt out. "I don't want to live here anymore."

"Why?" she looks worried.

"Josh..." A sob racks through me. "Josh doesn't love me anymore!"

Sammy only squeezes my hand, turning her head towards the patio doors.

"Sammy, honey," I hear Josh's deep voice. "Would you mind if Anna and I talked for a bit?"

I jerk my head up. Josh is standing on the flagstones in jeans and a white t-shirt that stretches tight against the muscles of his chest and arms. His dark hair is falling across one eye, and he looks serious — but soft. Concerned.

"Of course, Mr. Henderson," Sammy says quickly, giving my hand another squeeze before she stands up. "Text me," she says, before nodding at Josh and making her own way out.

I cover my face, embarrassed that Josh is seeing me crying, and he sits down on the chair beside me, rubbing his face for a second before resting his chin - his strong, well-shaped chin - on his large hands.

"Sweetheart," he says gently. "Can we talk? I think things are getting a little out of control."

I don't say anything. I just take a gulping breath trying to calm myself down.

"I hear what you said to Sammy," he continues. "Do you really think... do you really think I'll ever stop loving you?"

He sounds so hurt and worried, and despite myself I look over at him - at his deep, brown eyes, framed by those thick, black lashes. Eyelashes any woman would want to have, my mother would normally say. Eyes that has locked onto mine as he...

Another sob quakes through me, and my lips tremble as fresh tears spill from my eyes.

"Baby girl..." says Josh softly, lifting his hands as if to reach for me, and then dropping them on his lap. "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry for everything I've done. How... inappropriate I've been. None of this is your fault. It's all mine, sweetheart, and I'll do anything I can to fix it."

I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath, looking over at him — at the huge, rock-solid strength of him. I want him to hold me. I just want to be in my daddy's arms.

"Can I have a hug?" I ask quietly.

"Of course," he answers, sounding surprised. "If you... want to."

I nod and stand up, sitting down in his lap and burying my face in his neck. More tears come, and Josh wraps his arms around me and rocks me gently until they subside.

"Daddy," I whisper. "Do you really love me?"

He squeezes me tighter. "I love, love, love you, baby girl. I will never stop loving you."

"Not even after... what happened?"

"No, baby. Never. And... what happened... that was my fault. I never should have let that happen. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

It finally sinks in that he was blaming himself for me watching him with Sammy. For us ignoring each other all week and quietly falling apart around each other. How can he think he is at fault? I am the one who had hidden in his closet — waiting.

"Daddy," I say after a minute, perplexed. "That wasn't your fault. I did it. I wanted to... watch."

He wraps one big, warm hand around my head, holding me even closer. I feel so warm and secure, so safe, wrapped up in his warmth and inhaling the soothing smell of him. I sigh.

I feel happy for the first time all week.

We stay that way for a couple of minutes before he speaks again. "Sweetheart, what you saw... the way I..." he gulps, "looked at you. That's not right, though. That's not what daddies and daughters do."

I nuzzle my nose in deeper against his neck, breathing in the smell of his skin. "Do you like Kiara? What's going to happen to Mom? To us?" I ask, feeling tears threaten again. The questions make me feel vulnerable.

He doesn't answer for a moment, continuing to rock me back and forth. Finally, he says, "What Kiara and I did, look... you shouldn't have seen it, but for a man sometimes it's, uh, well... men... need that. I think because I hadn't done that for a while, it's why I... it's why I was, um," I felt him swallow, "it's why I was looking at you in a way that I shouldn't. Daddies aren't supposed to look at their little girls that way. That must have been very confusing for you. And your mom and I...well, we're over. We'll get divorced."

I laugh, despite myself. "Josh," I whispered against his neck. "I know about s*x. And this thing with Kiara...was it what makes you want a separation from Mom?"

I feel his body grow tight as he stiffened. He says nothing.

"Say something," I push.

He shakes his head. "No, but it's a contribution. Your mom and I... sweetheart, we try. But our efforts...they are not enough to keep us together. We've both grown apart tremendously, and I've spent a good part of this summer refusing to accept it."

"I understand," I bit my bottom lip. "She doesn't care anymore."

"Yeah. Doesn't excuse my behavior towards you, though. I mean, you are my stepdaughter, Annabelle. I shouldn't be looking at you inappropriately."

"You've seen my videos," I shrug. The cat is out of the bag. No use trying to hide things now. "Kiara made you... I mean you liked her. You liked what she..." Oh God, even now, with tears on my face, having this conversation, I feel my p***y tighten remembering Josh's face looking at me. The look of pure agony and ecstasy mixed together as he cums. God, I want him to touch me — to want me the way that he wants her. I trail off, burying my face again.

"Anna... I liked what she did, yes. But I guess what I'm saying is that that was just for fun, honey. It doesn't change anything between us. I will always love you. I will always be your daddy. But sometimes I might need... you know... with your mom and I getting divorced, I want to try something with someone else. To move on."

My lip tremble, and I take a deep breath, not wanting to cry. This is my daddy. The idea of him breaking up with Mom thrilled me, but I feel jealous that he's intending to start something serious with someone else immediately. Someone that's not...me.

"Why do there have to be a new woman?" I ask. I know my voice sounds childlike, but I can't help it. The question comes from a fearful, uncertain part of me.

"Because," he says quietly. "Because men have... needs."

Finally, I voice the question that has been on my mind all week. "But why can't I be the one? For your needs?"