“I can do that, baby. Put your head in Daddy’s lap.”
I scramble across the room and drop to my knees, pressing my face into his lap. I don’t understand why this feels so good, why it calms the storm inside me.
He combs his fingers through my hair, then rubs my neck. When I’m calm, I look up.
He’s smiling at me.
“I found something in the basement that I want to wear for you.”
“I want to see it.”
I blush as I hold it up, and he helps me stand. I pull off my shirt, and my bra, because this new shirt is definitely meant to be worn bare chested.
I tug the t-shirt down over my breasts, the cotton rubbing against my nipple. Holding on to the hem, I stretch the fabric in vain. There’s no way it’ll cover my belly button.
“It’s a little small,” I whisper, heat blooming in my cheeks. “But I like it.”
“I like it too.” Luke’s voice grates rough in the air between us and I jerk my head up. His eyes are dark and glittery. “So much. Come sit in my lap, baby girl. Show Daddy your shirt. I don’t think it’s too small.”
“No?” I crawl toward him. As soon as I’m within grabbing range, his hands are on me and I’m tumbling against him.
He’s got a condom in his pocket, because we’re fucking all the time now, and he has it on and is buried inside me before I’m all the way ready.
This is my filthiest, favouritest way to have sex.
Daddy needing me and making himself fit inside me when I’m too tight.
It’s fast and desperate and I start to whine, so I grab his hand and press it hard against my mouth.
Eyes wide, he clamps down, silencing me.
I come immediately.
He follows right after.
I sprawl in his lap once we’re disentangled, feeling silly and light and perfect. “That wasn’t too much?”
“No. That was hot.” He drags in a ragged breath. “Honestly, Grace, I don’t think you can go too far. If you want it, if it makes you hot, I’m in. Whatever you want. Whatever I can give you. Even if it’s not something that I’d have imagined before, if it gives you that gleam in your eye…it’s good.”
“Okay.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t bought little white panties yet,” he says with a chuckle, his lips rubbing against my temple.
No, I couldn’t. It would be too much. Too on the nose.
Too dirty.
Five hours later, I find myself standing in Walmart, figuring out what four-pack of white panties I should buy—if I can bring myself to do it, because I feel filthy.
Hot, uncomfortable flashes of desire zap through me. Luke’s fingers tracing the edges of the cotton, snapping the elastic.
Sliding underneath and groaning when he finds me wet and slick.
Whispered confessions of want. Begging pleas for more. No, we can’t. Nobody will know. Please, Daddy.
Yeah, they shouldn’t sell these panties. They’re obscene.
And I can’t buy them. I’ll spontaneously combust at the register. Plus if Luke is home when I get back—which he will be—and if he helps me unload the groceries—sure to do—then I’ll die all over again when he picks up the underwear and knows what I’ve done.
So that’s exactly why I do buy them.
A perfectly innocent pack of women’s white panties.
I’m going to hell, but I’m going there happy.
32
Luke
December
My brother is skipping Christmas this year.
Only fair. Last year, I was a jerk to him, and so he skipped Christmas and reconnected with the love of his life. This year, they’re taking that same trip again.
But I miss him.
It’s quite the surprise to me to realize that.
We have a tree this year. Grace is currently lying on top of me on the couch, and we’re admiring our bang up decorating job.
She nestles her head under my chin and exhales, going soft. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever is on your mind.”
My first instinct is to say no, but there’s something about the soft weight of her that makes me pause. Do I want to talk? No, I’m not ready. Will I feel better if I share my burden with my spouse? Yes.
Why do I resist that so much? What am I afraid of?
“It’s stupid,” I mutter.
“Try me.”
“I miss Sam.”
“Oh, honey.” She props her chin on her hands and gives me a sad smile. “I think deep down he misses you, too. But all the work you’ve done with me, you’ll have to do with him, too.”
“Yeah.” I make a face.
She pokes me in the side and laughs.
“There’s something else on my mind, too.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. “In the summer I asked you about kids.”
She stills. Her spine straightens, and she lifts her chin, as if the conversation is replaying in her mind. “You did.”
“You said I could bring it up again in six months.”
She laughs, a frown pulling her eyebrows together. “Did you set a calendar reminder?”
I shake my head, no. “It just came to me. It’s not urgent, but if you are willing to entertain the conversation, I’d like to talk about it.”
She relaxes again and rests her head on my shoulder. “We’ll always be a bit chaotic. That’s probably not good for kids.”
“Life is chaos, maybe we can teach them to survive it better than I was taught.”
That trips a soft, soothing sound out of her.
Was that a dirty trick? I don’t want to play games with her heart.
“And maybe we’d have two boys? Brothers? And we could teach them…”
She rises again, launching herself right up to my face. “Maybe,” she says. “Ask me again in six…” Her eyes are sparkling. “No, seven days.”
“A week?” That’s New Year’s Eve.
Alex’s annual house party, which Sam will be attending.
“Hazel and I have something planned. Up to you if you want to use that opportunity to talk to your brother.”
A week later, Grace and I show up at Alex’s place early, because she’s bringing art with her. Two pieces, both wall-mounted. They’re boxed up, and she’s being mysterious about them, but I’m clear on the fact that this is part of the surprise she’s worked on with Hazel.
But Sam and Hazel don’t arrive until much later, and when they do come in, he’s the one who looks reluctant.
I recognize that expression. That was me last year. And that was part of what is causing him this discomfort right now.
Grace swoops over to them, welcoming them both, and getting right to the point. Hazel nods, and then Alex—clearly in on it—turns down the music and gets everyone’s attention before handing the floor to Hazel, explaining that he was thrilled to host an impromptu art moment.
Impromptu my ass.
“I’m going to be reading two poems for you. From Broken to Whole and A Full Exploration of the Aftermath. They are pieces I developed as part of a project with my dear friend, Grace Dunn, inspired by her very first art show.”