Page 61 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

Dress Up For Daddy

Eve Fontaine

Chapter 1

Iknow it's her before I open the door.

Tap, tap, ta, tap, tap.

A smile ticks at the corner of my lip and a rush of blood pumps into my dick.

Tap, tap.

Wren has always knocked like she's bringing you a gift. Which, if she's the one knocking on my door, that's exactly what she's doing.

Except, it's after ten on a Thursday and something isn't right. I'm one bourbon down, doing Photoshop magic because the groom in fourteen ceremony shots blinked in every single one.

Other people's love stories…I record them. I retouch them, color-correct them, deliver them in leather-bound albums nobody opens after the first anniversary. I save the file I'm working on and nearly launch myself over the back of the chocolate brown oversized sofa Wren helped me pick out when I moved here after the official split with her mother.

The flood of forbidden feelings I've buried for too long claws straight up my throat.

She's standing on my porch in a green, cropped Eastern Michigan University sweatshirt and cutoffs that have no business on a body this late in October. Her lime green and pink polka dot duffel bag drags one shoulder low.

Her espresso-colored hair is shorter than I remember. It looks hand hacked to her jaw line, blunt bangs framing those ridiculous brown eyes that I don't miss are red-rimmed and swollen.

The porch light hits her from the left in a hard side-light, half her face blown out, the other half crushed in shadow.

She looks like a car wreck and a centerfold and a cheap bottle of tequila ready to convince you to make a lifetime of bad decisions in the blink of an eye.

"Wren." God, if she knew how many times I choked out her name while beating off... "What's wrong baby?"

"I didn't know where else to go."

She slips past me and her shoulder drags across my chest and the smell hits. I know it well. Pomegranate Sunrise from Bath and Body Works.

It's no longer in production, but I have a permanent search set up on eBay so whenever a bottle comes up for sale, I snag it. No discount, no haggling.

I paid two-hundred and seventy for the last one I bought. It's sitting in my hall closet along with another ten bottles I'll dole out to her for birthday, Easter, Halloween or because it's Tuesday.

Whatever my daughter wants, I'd get her.

Okay, step-daughter but before I married her mother, I had a talk with Wren. With a sperm donor of a father from a drunken bad decision her mother made one night at a concert without so much as a name, I told her, if she gave her blessing for me to jointheir family, I would never treat her less than my own flesh and blood.

My heart thuds against my sternum—blood rushing through every vein in my body. I fucking helped raise her, what kind of a sick bastard am I standing here rock hard and thinking of that night I had her under me. Unconscious.

I traced her lips with my tongue, used her body for my wicked pleasure. Sure, there was fabric between us, and she was eighteen but I'm still a bastard for thinking about turning all her holes into my own personal cum receptacles.

She drops the duffel and hugs herself in the middle of my living room, shaking as my dick seeps cum down my fucking leg, and I shut the door and silently recite all the reasons I need to keep my hands to myself.

I'm her mother's ex-husband. Forty-four years old. A man with no business noticing that her shorts are frayed high enough to show the crease where thigh meets hip. That her sweatshirt is thin enough to confirm she skipped a bra.

"Sit down." My hand finds the small of her back. The cropped sweatshirt's ridden up and my palm lands on bare skin and the jolt locks my jaw shut as I guide her to the couch, letting go is like trying to release a live two-twenty line. "I know you're not old enough, but it looks like you need a drink."

I pour a finger of bourbon for both of us but it's mostly me that needs it. The bottle clinks against the rim of the skull shaped crystal rocks tumblers she gave me for Christmas last year.

One of the best gifts I've ever received.

Although, I'd say that about every gift she's given me since she was ten years old when her mother and I married and she gave me that horrible Looney Tunes tie for a wedding present.