Daddy issues || h.s

1.3

The sun was setting when she turned on the water in the tub. The party had drawn out longer than usual, and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She let her skirt fall to the floor and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. A sigh left her lips as she felt the fabric leave her body, there was a kind of liberation to be naked, to feel her skin breathe freely in the dimly lit bathroom. Her small hands stroked circles over her tummy and neck, wishing the hands belonged to someone else.

The water burned her skin as she lowered her body in the bath. She flinched a bit, but kept going until she was sitting at the bottom of it, the water reaching just over her boobs. Small droplets of sweat formed on her forehead, and she wiped them away with a wet hand. After a while, she could feel he muscles relaxing. But instead of leaning back, she hugged her knees and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander to unspeakable places.

He could hear water running as he walked upstairs. It had not been a good day, people had been talking and staring at him, but yet he could feel a small flower growing inside his chest, and he knew just who had planted the seed.

The door to the main bathroom was slightly open. He hadn't really been in there before, he always used the en suite bathroom, but now he could hear the sound of running water coming from within. He stopped in front of it, angling his head, trying to look inside.

The room was dimly lit, the only source of light the setting sun outside and a dozen candles burning with a soft, fragile glow. He could see nothing of the room but an old bathtub with lion feet. He sucked in a sharp breath, but it was not the flickering light of the candles or the antique bathtub that caused him to breathe so erratically; it was the girl sitting in the tub that took his breath away. He hair was in a bun, and her chin was resting on the top of her knees. She looked so lost, so vulnerable and small. So naked.

He wanted to go in to her, to throw away his clothes and lower himself in the water with her. He wanted to look her deep into her ocean blue eyes and count her eyelashes. There it was again, that feeling in his chest, like he was shrinking in her presence, like her soul was too big for this world.

His blood was burning, and his cheeks got tinted red as he felt himself burning with longing for something that could never be his. He bit his lip, trying to keep from sighing. She was so beautiful, and so out of his reach.

Suddenly he couldn't stand it, he turned away, and walked, almost ran, towards the bedroom. He couldn't help himself any more, he was going crazy, he had to let it all out.

He threw the door open. Abigail jumped and turned around to look at him. She was only dressed in lingerie, the dress from the partly in a pool around her ankles. Good.

He rushed over to her, crushing his lips against hers so hard their teeth crashed. There was no passion in the kiss, only lust and fingernails clawing at clothes.

Abigail kissed him back, tugging at his t-shirt. He ripped it of and buried his hands in her hair. She was so hard and so soft at the same time, and he kissed her like she was made of stone.

All their other times had been a routine; Kiss, touch, fuck. But this time he was driven by a desire deeper than anything he had ever felt before, because when he laid her down and kissed her neck, he did not see dark hair and brown eyes, but golden hair and blue eyes.