Quality Time (A Forbidden Taboo Erotica)

by Saffron Daughter

  Quality Time with Daddy

  A Forbidden Taboo Erotica

  By

  Saffron Daughter

  * * *

  Dear Readers, I tend to release my stories for promotional 99c pricing for a few days. Join my mailing list so you can take advantage. I also give away free ebooks periodically in the newsletters I send: http://eepurl.com/KAjob. Don't worry, I don't ramble!

  * * *

  This is a story of forbidden love and lust between a young woman and her step-father.

  * * *

  No relations between blood relatives are depicted in this story.

  Table of Contents:

  Quality Time with Daddy

  About the Author

  Check Out: Hush Hush!

  Check Out: The Shush! Series

  Sneak Peek: When Daddy Shared Me

  Taboo Stories by Saffron Daughter

  License

  Quality Time with Daddy

  by Saffron Daughter

  “Kerry!”

  I looked up from my book, hearing my step-father call my name. I was sitting out in the small back garden of our town house, reading the letters section of one of his Penthouse magazines that I’d found in a shoebox.

  At first, it had made me feel a bit icky knowing that he had probably jerked it to these before. But then I remembered that I had a huge crush on my step-father, on Jackson. He was hot, and he wasn’t actually my father, so that didn’t make it wrong or icky anymore.

  I had grinned at myself then, marveling at the way I was able to manipulate myself. It didn’t matter that I’d practically grown up with Jackson. He had married my mother when I was young, barely half way through primary school, and the fact of the matter is that I actually can’t remember a time that he wasn’t in my life.

  Of course, I didn’t know who my real father was, but that was a biological distinction that seemed arbitrary to me. Jackson had filled that void, but at a small distance that had allowed us to become friends. Mum had always been the primary parent, the one who took to scolding me, talking to me or sometimes at me, and teaching me the various life lessons she deemed necessary. Or simply being annoying like a mother is when she tries to helicopter parent her only daughter.

  Jackson had always been a step behind, just in the background. He had always comforted me afterwards, completely undermining – and without realizing it – my mother’s efforts at educating me. Not that I minded, though. From a young age, I’d always been drawn to him.

  It was when I got older that I figured out why. He was a gorgeous man, and the smile on him could disarm even the steeliest of women. He turned heads in the shopping center without fail, and there were many times that Mum had come home from date night more than a little jealous. Of course, she didn’t dare show it, but I could see it. You know that fabled mother-daughter connection? Yeah, it exists.

  “Yes, Jackson?” I called into the open kitchen window. I could see his face poking out through the slim gap. “What’s up?”

  “Your mother’s going away again for work this evening.”

  “Okay,” I said, pursing my lips in thought. That wasn’t all that bad. It meant that I could probably get my curfew relaxed a little. Jackson was always nice to me like that.

  “So you’re to stay home for tea tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” he said, and he tapped the glass with his finger.

  “What is it?”

  “She thinks you and I need to spend some quality time together.”

  My mouth curled into a grin, and my heart started beating faster. Now what the hell did that mean?

  “Okay?”

  “She thinks you and I don’t spend enough time together.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “Well,” he said, and he decided to abandon speaking through the open window. A moment later he popped out the back door, and as always was an arresting sight. Strong body, lean in all the right places, perfectly filled out his well-fitting t-shirt and jeans. His dark hair, though a little tussled, seemed to match the hard angle of his jaw, and the quality of depth his eyes seemed to have.

  “I know you rather like Matthew Brent.”

  I widened my eyes, and cocked my head to the side. Matthew Brent? He was only the most up-and-coming landscape photographer in the nation!

  “You knew I liked him?”

  “Come on,” he said, grinning. “You’re off to university in a bit to study photography. Give me some credit, would you?”

  I paused, grinning at him. I wasn’t really surprised that he had paid attention to detail. That was pretty typical of Jackson. Then it dawned on me, that moment of realization. My heart stopped for what felt like three whole beats.

  “No!” I shouted at him, getting to my feet and dropping the magazine to the floor. I saw his eyes catch the cover of the magazine, and a look of confusion rippled across his features. I squealed at him. “Don’t tell me you got tickets!”

  “I, uh, did,” he said.

  “Oh, thank you so much, Daddy!” I ran up to him and hugged him, hardly realizing that I’d just called him that. I hadn’t called him that in so long.

  He didn’t seem to realize, however. He was trying to look over the top of my head at the magazine that I’d left on the grass in the small garden.

  “It’s okay, Kerry,” he murmured. “What are you reading?”

  “Oh, that? It’s nothing,” I said. I took his hand, feeling electricity in the touch, and pulled him back inside the house. “Tell me more! How did you get the tickets? When are we going?” The questions practically spilled out of my mouth.

  “Uh,” he sounded, before following my lead back into the kitchen. We sat down at the table, and I rested my head on my elbows, looking up at him.

  “Come on! I thought the show had been sold out for weeks!”

  “One of my friends is working security,” he said.

  “Security?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

  “Oh, you know, it’s pretty token. Anyway, they gave him and his family a free set of tickets. Since they have no interest, he gave them to me. It’s pretty much blind luck that he was working this particular exhibition, though. But I’m glad I remembered.”

  “You’re sweet to remember,” I said. I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. I was over the moon! “He’ll be there, right?”

  “Of course he will, darling.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to talk to him.”

  “Well, I hope he’s not a dickhead,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me. “You know how these people can get.”

  “Who cares?” I cried, slapping the table. “This is a once in a lifetime thing. Even if he’s a bit ornery, I’ll still walk away happy.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then I guess that’s what we’re doing tomorrow. We can go out for a late supper afterward.”

  “Thanks, Jackson,” I said, making sure to say his name this time. “This is the best.”

  *

  “He seemed a bit up himself, didn’t he?”

  I looked at my step-father, and nodded. “Yeah,” I agreed. “But I mean, he’s this famous photographer, you know? He’s got a real eye for it. A true artist. Many people take photographs that look good, but so few can capture shots of landscapes like he does. I mean, come on, and don’t tell me you didn’t feel things looking at his work?”

  “They were good photos,” Jackson admitted.

  “Don’t you just love how he uses glass to distort or augment the image? I mean, what would otherwise be this idyllic landscape is thrown into chaos and disarray when shot through uneven glass. It’s just such an interesting way to loo
k at the world. It’s like a metaphor for how we live on this earth, you know? We bring chaos.” The words were just falling out of me. “And then, on a different level, you can look at it like he’s making a judgment or at least an observation of us, of humans, you know? Like the distorted glass represents our biased and colored opinions. It suggests that we can’t ever look at the beauty of Mother Nature without bringing our own biases into play, you know? Like, we can never truly appreciate it!”

  Jackson laughed then, and looked at me. “I’m no good with postmodern stuff, darling. I’ve always been a nuts and bolts kind of guy. Blue collar, through and through.”

  I smiled at him. That much was true. Jackson wasn’t simple, and he wasn’t dull. The guy had a fierce intelligence, but it was the practical sort. I shrugged. Maybe it was a generational thing.

  “But yes,” I said. “He doesn’t seem the social type.”

  “No. Bit of a cock, really.”

  I laughed.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, darling?”

  “I did,” I said, hooking my arm into his. It was such a natural movement, something that I didn’t even think about when I did it, that it took even me by surprise. But since I had already done it, I couldn’t pull my arm out. That would make it all too awkward.

  “Good,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. I could tell he was uncomfortable, and I wondered why. It couldn’t possibly be because he had a little thing for me too, could it?

  “So what do you want to eat?” I chirped.

  “Personally, I was in the mood for a thin crust pizza.”

  I nodded. “Ooh, that sounds good. No anchovies, though.”

  “I’m with you there, Kerry. Only your mother likes that.”

  We walked in silence for a bit. I just followed his lead. I was pretty sure he knew a place somewhere and was leading us to it. The walk was comfortable, and eventually after a bit of time, I was able to slip my arm out of his without it seeming unnatural, or without making me feel awkward at least.

  I couldn’t believe I’d done it, too. But it had really been something so instinctual. I hadn’t even given it two second’s thought and then before I knew it, I was holding onto his arm as though he were my boyfriend!

  That word echoed in my mind for a bit. Boyfriend. God, I thought to myself. This was getting a little out of hand. I’d always had feelings for him. But I’d always treated it as nothing more than a young girl’s crush, a little psychological complex that everybody went through.

  We’d never actually been out together one-on-one before, and now that we were, I was beginning to realize that actually what I felt for him wasn’t the usual bit of harmless idol-worship. I actually felt something for him. I found him intensely attractive. I wanted to do… things.

  I coughed, determined not to follow my own train of thought. I couldn’t. It was so wrong. It was something I shouldn’t think about. Something that couldn’t possibly happen.

  Ever.

  Right?

  Walking side by side, our hands brushed again, and electricity just shot straight through me. My whole body jolted. It wasn’t a physical static shock, but it was an emotional one equally, if not more potent.

  We rounded the corner and saw the pizza place, and outside it was a line of about twelve people.

  “Shit,” Jackson said, looking at me. “Feel like waiting?”

  “Why not? Let’s just give the woman who is at the front our phone number and go sit down somewhere.”

  “You sure, Kerry?”

  “Yeah.”

  A smile lit up his face. I knew he liked pizza, and it made me feel happy enough to wait.

  I watched as he gave his mobile number to the woman in charge of seating, and then walked back to me. “There’s a park over there, actually. Smallish, but there are benches that look out toward the river.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We walked again in awkward silence. There was definitely a viscous tension between us. It was like webbing. At the same time it made it difficult to feel close, it made sure that we were never quite far enough apart to be off each other’s radars.

  “Jackson,” I asked, folding my arms. “How did you meet my mother again?”

  He paused. “Actually, we met at job thing. It was a networking convention of sorts.”

  “Ah,” I said. “But mum works in paper. I thought you worked in technology?”

  “Back then I was a printer salesman.”

  I guffawed. “Really? Printers? In the nineties?”

  “Not home printers, but you know, for mass printing. We had half the convention hall, and all the paper merchants were down the other side. Of course we all mingled and stuff, and I met your mother. Actually, she looked a lot like you do now back then.”

  “Really?” I asked, my heart fluttering.

  He grinned. “Yup.”

  We got to a bench overlooking the river and sat down. The buildings glinted and sparkled on the opposite bank.

  “Do you love her?”

  He recoiled a little. “Of course, Kerry.”

  “I mean, romantically.”

  “Kerry,” he said, clasping his hands together.

  “What? It’s just a question.”

  “When you get older,” he said, his voice drifting off. “I mean, when you’ve been married for a long time, some of the passion goes. It’s inevitable. We’re human beings. But replacing that fire is something else, something different, something more comfortable.”

  “Will that happen to me?”

  “It probably will,” he said. “It might not, though. Back in our day, in my generation, things were different with respect to marriage.”

  “You guys didn’t marry for love,” I said.

  “Well, it wasn’t quite like that. But there was more pressure than there is today.”

  “Do you regret marrying Mum?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “She’s a wonderful woman, and she came with a wonderful daughter.”

  “It’s a big commitment, you know, marrying a person with kids.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “I mean, I’m not even your real daughter.”

  “Kerry, I’ve always considered you my-”

  “Don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

  “Why not, darling? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. I don’t know what had gotten over me. Conflicting emotions were flaring up within me and I was now regretting so, so much the line of questioning I had just taken.

  “I always know when something’s wrong, Kerry. Why don’t you talk to me?”

  “That’s the thing!” I looked him in the eyes. My own were watering. Such heady emotions were flooding my mind. “You do always know when there is something wrong! Why is that, Jackson?”

  He looked confused. “Because I care.”

  “You more than care, Jackson. You love.”

  “Well, yes, of course I love you.”

  “I’m not talking in that way,” I said. It was a gamble. I had just dived head-first into it. “You know me because you pay so much attention. I’ve seen the looks. I’ve seen the glances. I’ve felt the spark when our hands touched. The awkwardness that’s a bubble around us? I can feel that, Jackson. I can see it, too.”

  I looked him dead in the eyes. He shook his head slightly. Words seemed out of his grasp.

  We looked at each other for maybe a minute, soundless, tense. And then he did something that I wasn’t expecting. He leaned forward and he kissed me, claimed his lips with mine! It was just such a natural movement that I wasn’t caught off-guard by it.

  No… I started to kiss him back! And then his hands were around my body, and mine were around his wide, strong back, and our kiss turned to fire, all tongue, teeth, passion, spit, and panting.

  “Oh, Daddy!” I mewled unconsciously. “No, this is so wrong!”

  He was kissing and licking my neck, and his hands had traveled south and were lifting me off the
bench, grabbing hard fistfuls of my ass.

  “I want this,” he breathed, working his way down to my cleavage. His hands came up then and took hold of my breasts, and he kneaded them. His urgency was infectious.

  “Me, too,” I gasped. “Oh, God, I’ve wanted this for so long!”

  “Me, too,” he said, taking my lips with his again and snaking his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues danced, and our hands roamed, and our lusts flared.

  It was all just too much. My heart was racing. All my inhibition was just crumbling, evaporating, disappearing.

  I stretched out like a cat lying languidly in the sun, and shivered with excitement as he ran his hand up the inside of my thigh. He pushed it under my skirt and cupped my sex, and the feel of the heat of his hand radiating through me was almost too much to bear.

  “Oh, Da-”

  I stopped.

  “Call me what you want,” he told me, running his finger around the outline of my clit, now hard and pressing through the dainty fabric that was my thong.

  “Daddy,” I whispered. Just saying it was like a huge release. And it was such a huge turn on. “Make me feel good.”

  “That’s all I ever wanted, baby,” he told me, and he kissed me hard again pulling my thong to the side. The moment his skin touched my nether lips was the moment I knew this was right, that what we were doing was right. Even if it was wrong, it was right.

  “Oh!” I gasped as he touched my sensitive clit, as he began to rub circles around it on the hood. “Oh, that feels good, Daddy, don’t stop that.”

  I rubbed his crotch as he fingered my clit, as we kissed and kissed and kissed. I could feel his hard lump straining against his trousers, rigid like a bar of steel.

  I began to work his zipper, and eventually got it down and I snaked my hand inside, beneath the flap of his briefs to wrap my hands around his curled cock. God, it was thick! It felt like I was holding the handle of a tennis racket.

  “Mmm,” I moaned as he pushed a finger inside me, still fingering my clit with his thumb. His thick digit made me feel so good. God, he found my g-spot right away and was just rubbing it, pushing against it up and down.