I’m in the shower alone, and I’m trying to keep myself calm, but every time I think about the look on Laila’s face as she climaxed on my lap, I get a fucking electric shock through my body.
At first I thought it was the age difference. The forbiddenness. That’s why it was having such an effect on me, but now I know it’s something more. This girl has gotten under my skin…far under.
When I come out of the bathroom, she’s sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest in nothing but her underwear, and my dick twitches. There’s still a pink hue to her cheeks and a hesitant smile on her face.
God, I want her again already.
No, that’s an awful thought. She just lost her fucking virginity. She’s probably sore and will need time. Still, I can’t stop myself from walking over to her and pushing the hair out of her face.
“We should get some sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow.”
“If we can get out of this town.” She bites her lips and fuck me, I hope the snow doesn’t stop and we’re stuck in this cabin for days. Which is fucked up considering I’m supposed to be focusing on Kirsten, but I’ve spent my life doing everything I need to do for my daughter. Am I being too greedy, wanting this for myself?
Leaning down, I drop a warm kiss on her lips, and she lets out a sweet moan. Her fingers grasp the white towel wrapped around my waist, and my dick instantly reacts, but I grab her hands to stop them.
“We can’t…”
“Why?” she asks in a breath whisper.
“Aren’t you sore?”
“Not really. Not yet, at least.”
There’s that electric shock again, travelling right up my spine. I didn’t know I was still capable of feeling shit like this anymore. Without another word, I step away and hit the light by the door, grabbing the backup rubber out of my side pocket of my bag. It’s a good thing I always keep these things on me just in case. I hear her shifting as soon as she the crinkle of the wrapper fills the quiet space.
The moonlight through the window is the only light in the room, so I drop my towel and crawl under the covers next to her. My cock is already jutting out, but she doesn’t even flinch when it presses against her. Her warm body latches onto mine, and I pull her beneath me, settling myself between her legs.
I take explicit delight in peeling her panties down slowly, watching the way she trembles in anticipation. When I plant a kiss on her hip bone, she gasps. Moving my way up her soft belly to her full breasts and to her neck, I make sure to mentally record the way her breathing sounds when I kiss her body.
Making quick work of the condom, desperately trying not to ruin the mood, I climb over her holding my sheathed cock against her entrance. Before I press into her again, no matter how much I want to, I take a moment to kiss her mouth. Our breaths mingle, our bodies pressed together perfectly, frozen in suspense.
“Henry,” she whispers just as I press myself inside her. I’m swallowed whole by the warmth of her. I take things slow, careful not to hurt her but watching her features for any sign that she’s in pain. But the look on her face is anything but pain. Her eyes are hooded in lust and staring at me with awe. Her jaw is slack, her lips partially open, and her chest moving slow and deep with each heavy breath.
I make slow, easy love to her, wanting her to know a different side of sex. In fact, I want to show her every single side, the fast, the slow, the hard the soft. Fuck, even the vanilla and the kinky. Strange as it may sound, it almost feels like my first time too. Not literally, but like opening the door to a new phase of my life. A new adventure. The comfort of exploring it with someone I connect with on such a deep level. I want to take her back to the sex shops and fuck her in every place I legally can…and maybe not so legally. I want to live out a long sequence of sexual escapades with this girl, learning everything she loves and maybe a little more about what I love.
This is insane, but in the last three days I’ve been rewired.
She lets out a high-pitched gasp, stealing my thoughts as I pick up my speed, watching the way her back arches and her breath shortens. I love feeling her hands on my hips as I thrust, and it’s the image of her laying beneath me, her curls fanned out on the pillow that sends me flying.
My heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest. It’s like my dick is connected directly to it, and not in a physical way, but an emotional one. I’m filling her up, hypothetically of course, because I want her to have a part of me. I want her to have all of me.
“Laila,” I groan, drawing out her name as my body jerks and spasms with pleasure. Then, she’s pulling my mouth to hers like she wants to devour the sound of her name on my lips.
Collapsing my body on hers, I stay inside of her as long as my dick will allow. When I finally pull out and quickly discard the condom, I come right back to the warm spot next to her. She nuzzles her body against my chest, and it’s lovely, but she’s still being so quiet, and it’s worrying me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” she whispers, her soft, warm breath on my chest.
“Good.” We’re quiet for a while and I try to hold on, letting her fall asleep before me so she’s not alone with her thoughts while I’m inconsiderately off in dreamland. So, I stroke her back softly and level my breathing. Before long, I hear her breaths lengthen and feel her body go slack. Then, shifting easily to my side with her still in my arms, I easily drift off.
The next morning, I wake up to an empty spot where Laila once was. The smell of coffee wafts through the house, and I climb out of bed to find her sitting on the oversized couch by the fireplace, hugging a steaming cup to her body.
“Good morning,” I greet her with my raspy, still sleepy voice.
“The roads are open,” she replies with a hesitant smile.
“That’s good news.” I have to force it out in a less than convincing tone. It is good news. I’m now two days behind schedule to get to Kirsten, and we still have a long drive ahead of us.
“Can I ask you something?” she says, her voice sounding more weak and small than normal.
“Of course.” I sit on the couch next to her, wanting to touch her but giving her space instead. She’s just gone through something life changing and I’d rather her be honest and open with me than hold it in. Even if she’s about to say something that is going to hurt.
“Are you still going to try and stop Kirsten’s wedding?”
It’s not the question I expected. And by reflex, I want to say yes, but I hesitate. Do I still want to stop Kirsten’s wedding? Yes. Nothing’s changed in the last few days.
Or has it?
Is Laila asking me if my mind has changed or if I have changed? She wants to know if I’m still the unromantic, sensible guy who is willing to drive across the country to ruin his daughter’s wedding. Am I?
It’s no secret Laila has done something to me this week. She’s weaseled her way into my heart, and this part of me that favors emotions and romance, a part of me I thought had atrophied in the last twenty years, is suddenly alive and vibrant.
If I had the chance to promise myself to Laila right now, would I do it?
Yes, I fucking would, and that is insane. Clearly, I’ve been lovestruck, or struck dumb really. Is this what Kirsten is feeling? So irrational and nonsensical that she would cause major long-lasting harm based on the whim of fast love and strong emotions?
“I don’t know.”
It’s the best I can do. I want to say yes, I will stop this ridiculous wedding, but at the same time…I don’t actually want to. Because if Kirsten is feeling for her boyfriend what I’m feeling for Laila, I don’t want anyone to tell me I’m wrong.
Even though someone probably should.
Laila bites her lip, obviously discontent with my answer. “I’m going to support her, you know.”
My spine straightens. “Laila, you can’t honestly believe this is a good idea. She could ruin her whole future.”
“Don’t you think she’s old enough to make that decision on her own?” She looks up at me, and I see the fight in her eyes.
“I’m still her dad. No matter how old she is.”
“You can’t control every choice she makes. Some things she’ll have to learn on her own.”
“Then you agree this is a bad decision,” I argue, and I feel the tension growing, but I can’t stop. I can’t seem to back down from this argument.
“No, I don’t. I think it’s her choice to make. And how can you possibly know it’ll end up bad?”
Suddenly, I don’t know what we’re talking about. Are we arguing about Kirsten…or Laila? She wants me to take a leap of faith for Kirsten and for her. Which makes the next words out of my mouth that much more harsh.
“I don’t want to take the risk.”
Her mouth falls, her shoulder slumping as she glares at me with an emotional expression. “That’s your choice, Henry. Make the sensible, boring decision. Just like you always do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you were so worried about money and Kirsten’s future that you missed her life. Now, you want to break her heart because you somehow think you’re saving her from heartbreak. And it means that you’ll never be truly happy. You’ll never let yourself fall in love or give yourself to someone because the risk is greater than the reward.” She stands up, crossing the room in an angry stomp.
“What about you?” I reply, standing up and feeling too fired up to keep my calm. I’m too angry to think clearly. Angry at her or angry at myself, I don’t know. But it’s no excuse for the poison in my words. “You’re going to help her throw her life away because you’re such an expert on love? You’re so fucking desperate for it you’ll latch on to the nearest guy who gives you an ounce of attention.”
She looks visibly hurt, her breath coming in heavy, long shaky waves. My stomach suddenly aches, and I want to vomit. This is how I treat her because I’m too fucking scared to admit that I want everything she wants, but I won’t even roll the dice for her.
“Fuck you, Henry.” She shuts herself in the bedroom with a slam, and I flinch with the impact.
After getting cleaned up, we check out of the cabin and gas up with coffee and breakfast. There’s a heavy tension between us now. It’s like a hangover. The nausea and headache are all there, but it’s not from the beers we drank last night. What Laila and I said to each other this morning sits like bile in my stomach.
Kirsten and Laila are the same. They want to believe in fairy tales, that everything will just magically turn out right, but I’m doing this to protect them. It’s better this way.
As we get on the road, I call Kirsten on the Bluetooth to give her our new ETA. I told her last night about the delay and she seemed okay with it but she’s supposed to be flying home in two days and the clock is ticking. This leaves us without any time to properly spend together. But I’m finding it hard to be so upset about that now.
She answers loudly on the speakers, and I notice Laila with her noise cancellers on, turning her head even farther into her hoodie, pretending to be asleep.
“Where are you guys at?”
“We’ll be there tonight, love. I’m sorry it’s taking so long.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry this road trip has been so eventful.”
I glance quickly at Laila. Did she tell Kirsten what happened already? No, she wouldn’t.
“Is everything still on for tomorrow?” I ask, almost afraid to bring it up.
“Yep,” she answers too cheerfully. “I’m so excited.” Her voice squeals on the line, and I can practically hear the smile on her face.
“I’ll see you tonight, darling.”
Before she can say anything else, I hang up the phone. I’ve disappointed one girl already today. Kirsten can wait until tomorrow.
