The Painter’s Daughter Read Online Margot Scott

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
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“We have,” he said. I opened my mouth to the spray to wash away some of the bitterness I felt. “You look mildly scandalized,” he teased.

That wasn’t true. I didn’t mind that he had participated in group sex. What bothered me was the thought of having to smile and make small talk with Kristin, all the while knowing she’d had his cock inside her when he still hadn’t fucked me.

Pressing my full weight into my palms, I spread my hands flat against the tile and turned to look at him. “I’m not scandalized,” I said. “Just curious.”

My father’s gaze darkened. “You like the thought of being shared?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

“You want to know what it’s like to feel twice as many hands on you? Twice as many cocks begging for your attention? One here—” He moved faster in an out of my asshole. “—and another here.” He slid two fingers into my pussy.

I moaned. Illicit images played out like a slideshow across my mind. Four hands gliding over my hips and breasts, two mouths kissing and licking my nipples. Two cocks sliding in and out, using me, filling me to bursting. It was depraved and brutally comical, considering I had yet to have one man’s cock inside me, yet here I was greedily wishing for two.

My inner muscles clenched around his fingers, in front as well as behind. He was hard again. He hummed as I took his cock between my soapy hands. I needed this, needed his body and the reassurance of his desire for me. Especially after learning about his history with Kristin.

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please, fuck me, Daddy. My ass or my pussy, wherever you want. You don’t have to come inside me. Just, please…do it.”

He groaned into my ear, picking up the pace with his fingers. I grappled for something to hold he up, but the tile was too slick, so I used his shoulder. He withdrew from my pussy and pulled me against him, trapping his erection between us. We kissed, wet and sloppy. I could practically taste his desperation.

Grasping his shaft, I guided his cock between my legs. He rocked forward, gliding against me. This was it. He was finally going to fuck me.

The sigh that seeped from his chest had to have left him hollow. He slid out of my backside and angled his cock back against my belly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.”

His rejection crushed me. He may as well have been standing on my chest.

“Why not?” I asked, my voice barely a squeak above the rushing water.

He cradled my face. “We don’t have time, sweetheart.”

Liar, I thought. We’d had three weeks, plus the rest of our lives, and at least two hours till dinner. We had all the time in the world. I stood there, deflated, as he kissed my forehead and detached the shower massager from its post on the wall. My skin humped with goosebumps as he rinsed the soap from me, then from himself.

I didn’t find the will to speak again until he’d finished toweling me off.

“If you like threesomes, then why do you get so jealous when other people flirt with me?”

“It’s different.” He wrapped the towel around my shoulders and then motioned for me to sit on the edge of the tub so he could comb my hair. “You aren’t someone else’s wife or girlfriend. You’re my daughter. I made you. That makes you mine.”

I didn’t want to be soothed by the gentle glide of the comb, but the rhythmic drag and swoosh had me drifting. I was his, completely, which was right where I wanted to be. I couldn’t understand this self-imposed restraint toward something he already owned.

“When people see us together,” he said, “they don’t see a couple. They see me and they see you. They watch you, like a piece of fucking performance art, or fruit ripening on the vine. I’m the vine in this scenario, in case that wasn’t clear.”

The comb snagged in my hair. He worked through the knot carefully, his touch as tender as his tone was strained.

“You can’t see their mouths watering, but I can,” he said. “I’ve watched their cocks perk up at the sight of you. And short of overplaying the role of the protective father figure, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

The air felt charged with our mutual frustration. I pulled the towel tighter around myself like a cocoon. After a long stretch of silence, he added, “There’s only one person I’d be willing to share you with, and that’s one more reason why he’s not coming tonight.”

He had to be talking about Maddox.

I left him to finish getting ready.

In the bedroom, I couldn’t stop myself from rereading the text message. I was curious about this old friend of my father’s whom I’d never heard of. The man my father deemed worthy enough to share his bed as well as his daughter. Part of me wanted to meet him if only to see for myself what made Maddox so special.


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