I cramp up inside. Being alone with Aaron terrifies me.
“You’re a lucky girl, Tegan.” He looks as surly and bitter as ever. “Dad will be along soon, and he sent for a justice of the peace or whatever the fuck it takes.”
I keep my tone conversational. “I don’t think I’m your dream date, Aaron,”
He scowls at me. “What?”
“I’m not a Victoria’s Secret catalogue type, or a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model.” I put my head on one side. “I don’t see you with many girls, but I’d have pegged you more as an arm-candy man. A trophy hunter.” I shrug. “I’m surprised that I’m your type.”
“You’ve got the main qualifications.” He looks at my tits. Then down at my thighs. “You do look good in the old man’s shirt.” He licks his lips. “I bet you haven’t got any panties on under that.”
Seeing the filthy ideas in the slush of his eyes, I want to cry.
I want those things, those dirty things he’s thinking about as his tongue flicks around his lips. I want all of them. But with Liam.
And definitely not with Aaron. I will not let him see me cry. And I won’t let him see me afraid.
He stares hard in my eyes.
“You came down to the kitchen in his shirt and with no panties on,” he sniffs the air as he takes a step nearer. “Because you fucked him all night. Didn’t you?”
He grabs my cheek and squeezes. Hard.
“It’s true,” his eyes blaze as he sniffs again, “Isn’t it?”
His lip curls back in a leer. “You fucked him all night. You took his cock up your fat cunt. Squeezed and dripped all over him. Took him in your mouth. All the way down your neck. Did you suck and drink his come, you filthy little whore? Did you lick it off his steaming hot prick?” His voice is thickening.
I can see his cock straighten in his pants, right in front of me. The bulge behind his zipper swells and lengthens. Pushes forward. It twitches.
“Did he ram it up your ass? Did he hump you on the floor from behind? Did you crawl on your hands and knees as he shoved his cock up your ass?”
No. And I wish he had, you creepy fuck.
I blink slowly. I make a soft half smile. Raise an eyebrow like I’m not taking this too seriously.
I may still be a virgin, but if you bring your skanky cock anywhere near me, I swear I will chew it off and spit it in your face.
Still pinching my cheek hard, he reaches down to grab and squeeze my tit. He kneads my nipple. His cock presses through his pants, an inch from my mouth.
“I’m thinking,” he pinches my nipple again. “Maybe that means we don’t need to wait for the justice of the peace,” Aaron salivates. Air in the cabin is thick and hot.
He licks his lips. “What do you say? Maybe we skip the preliminaries and get to our main course.” He takes a step closer. “Well, my main course. Which would be you.”
“I am still a virgin, Aaron, if that’s what you mean about the shirt.”
His laugh is like a rusty saw. “Yeah. Like I believe that. I don’t know if it really matters all that much, anyway.”
“Why me, Aaron? Why does Jack want you married, and why to me?”
He starts to shake his head, and the leer turns into a grin. The grin doesn’t make him any easier on the eye.
Another vehicle skids to a stop outside.
There’s noise on the steps and the deck. The front door flies open.
Jack strides in, kicking the door shut behind him.
At least that will put Aaron off his stroke. Buy me a little time.
It turns out I’m wrong about everything today.
Aaron leers, “Hey, Dad. I was just going to bite the cherry off this little pie.”
Jack nods.
And Aaron says, “Maybe we should break her in together, in style. Give her a spit-roast double team. What do you say?”
Jack’s face glows. He moves to stand behind my chair. Takes a hold of my throat and strokes down to my cleavage. And he starts to slip the lovely soft cotton shirt off my shoulder, exposing the top of my breast.
“Could be a plan, Aaron. Did you find out if she’s got panties on?”
“Does it matter?”
Jack’s close enough behind me that I can feel the heat from his erection near the back of my neck.
“No. Maybe a little more fun if she has. We can rip ’em.”
I put on the sweetest smile that I can. Crane my head back to look up at Jack.
“Aaron was just getting ready to tell me. Why did you choose me for your son, Jack? Why do you want me as your daughter-in-law?”
His tone is like the smooth, kindly uncle voice he used to use with me when I was first in the house. But it’s flat. All the life has gone out of it, “You’re just perfect, darling.” It’s like a bad actor, reading a part he doesn’t know.