FATHER FIGURE

Just not mine...

Summer clung to everything.

The air was thick. Lazy. The pool in Ally’s backyard was a mirror of pale blue sky that rippled around our young bodies like a dream, and we lived in bikinis we couldn’t afford to keep buying.

I had just turned twenty-two. Back from England after… well, after everything that had happened. I’d hung out with Ally all summer long– except this one felt different.

In hindsight, it was the red bikini that did it.

I’d bought it on a whim. Red ties that looked like they might give up if someone tugged just enough. When I eased into the deep end, the water lifted my breasts until they floated just above the surface– buoyant, shameless– nipples tights from the sudden cool. Ally was inside grabbing drinks, and her dad was on the deck. Mr Callinan– Graham, though I’d never say it out loud– stood at the barbeque, tea towel hanging over his shoulder, and beer sweating in his hand as he flipped steaks.

He was forty-three. Broad shouldered. Silver threading through the dark hair at his temples. The first of a long line of men I’d seek this exact feature in. I’d found myself spending a lot of time at Ally’s this summer, and her company and the pool were only partially the point.

I tilted my head back, letting my dark hair fan out like ink. When I lifted it, Graham was looking at me. He looked away like the eye contact had burned him. ‘The water feels good today,’ I said, voice soft. Dreamy. ‘Everything just… floats.’

His eyes flicked back up, and then slightly lowered. They caught on the freckled swell of my breasts rising and falling with my breath, water beading on skin that looked polished. He didn’t look away quick enough. I smiled, small and knowing. ‘You okay, Mr Callinan?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I’m fine. Just… making sure you’re not drowning.’

‘I’m a very good swimmer,’ I replied, drifting to the edge closest to him. ‘But sometimes it’s nice when someone watches.’

His shoulders tightened and I heard him exhale sharply through his nose just as Ally came back with cocktails and the moment cracked open and spilled away.

But it didn’t disappear. We’d been playing this game all summer.

Ally’s mum had left a few years ago, and I’d heard through the grapevine that Mr Callinan had been back on the proverbial horse while I’d been gone and grieving.

He’d pretend not to watch me as I lay by the pool, top undone, skin shining. I’d find ways to “help” with things, and use it as a way to brush against him, touch his arm when I asked him a question.

My favourite was when I’d do something helpful and he’d really look at me, his ridiculously dark eyes boring into mine, and say, ‘Good girl.’

He knew what he was doing. And I lapped it up like an eager little puppy.

We sat down to eat, and I took the seat directly across from him, which had become my spot at the table.

But my red bikini made me feel bold. While we ate, we talked. Ally and I told stories about people we knew from high school– what they were doing and who they were doing it with. Mr Callinan, a plumber by trade, owned a successful company and made us cackle at stories of clients and customers.

It was as normal as any other night. But the red bikini drew his attention. I could see his eyes drift to my chest every time there was a lull in conversation. I watched him watch my throat work as I swallowed down my cocktail, or my mouth wrapped around my straw. It was intoxicating.

So, who could blame me for being a little braver than usual. I kicked off my shoe and let my foot run up the inside of his thigh. He jolted violently at first. Claimed he’d bitten his tongue when Ally pressed him.

I just looked at my plate and smiled. Smug.

The triumph was short-lived. He grabbed my foot and I thought he would throw it away, silently chastising me. What he did though, sent a very different message. With his big hand wrapped around my foot, he pressed it into his crotch, letting me feel the size and throbbing rigidity.

I flexed my toes against him, delighted when I saw his fingers tightening around his fork, and his eyes darken as he chanced a quick look up at me. The hand that pressed my foot against him released, but I didn’t move. I just let my foot rest between his thighs, occasionally wriggling my toes and stifling a shriek when he pinched the arch of my foot in retaliation.

But he never said a word to stop me.

Until later.

It was just past two in the morning when my phone lit up on the bedside table of the spare bedroom at the Callinan’s house.

Graham (Daddy) Callinan

Study. Now. Be quiet.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I’d put his number in my phone like that as a joke, and Ally had cringed and gagged while I “jokingly” teased all the ways I’d like to make him my daddy.

I only had on a thin white linen sleep set– no bra, no knickers, just the whisper of softness on skin. I pulled my hair in two long braids down my back, still slightly damp from my late shower, and slipped out of the spare room.

The hallway leading to the study was dark, the house silent except for the low hum of the near constant air conditioner stifling the relentless Queensland heat.

The study door was ajar, warm lamp light spilling into the dark.

An invitation.

I didn’t knock.

Graham stood behind the desk, shirtless, pyjama shorts hanging off his hips. He didn’t say anything when he saw me, just gestured for me to close the door behind me.

The click of the lock sounded like a semi-colon in a sentence that didn’t know whether to end or keep going.

He crooked his fingers at me, gesturing to the desk. Instead of sitting on my side of it, I moved around and sat on it, my eyes in line with his chest as he stood in front of me. I was so close I could see the smattering of chest hair around his nipples, the trail that led into his plaid shorts down to the thick cock I’d pressed against my foot that evening.

‘You think you’re clever, don’t you?’ he murmured, tilting my chin up to look at him. His thumb dragged across my bottom lip, parting it.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Mr Callinan,’ I whispered, blinking up at him, the feigned confusion in my voice unbelievable even in my own ears.

His laugh was dark. ‘You expect me to believe you’ve been parading around my house in those little scraps of nothing, floating your tits on my water like a fucking invitation, teasing me for weeks, that you have no idea what you’re doing?’

I smiled. ‘Would you like me to lie, Sir?’

Graham slumped into the seat, his head thrown back and eyes closing in the kind of pain that could be mistaken for pleasure.

‘Never.’

My breath hitched. ‘I… I wanted you to look.’

‘I looked,’ he admitted, his eyes still closed tight. ‘I looked until I couldn’t think about anything else. Until I had to come up here while you girls were taking your showers, faffing about, and jerk off thinking about bending you over this desk while my daughter slept peacefully down the hall.’

My thighs clenched, a soft broken sound slipping out before I could stop it.

And when he heard it, his head snapped up. Eyes open. Smile a little feral.

‘You wanna know what I do to little teases like you?’

He didn’t give me the chance to answer before he’d dragged me off the desk and into his lap, his mouth on me— hard, claiming— tongue sweeping in like he’d already gotten what he wanted. He gripped my waist with one hand, while the other gripped the ends of my braids, pulling to give him access to my neck for his talented tongue. I melted against him, hands on his shoulders, in his hair. He tasted like the mango sorbet the Callinan’s like to keep stockpiled in their freezer. He tasted like restraint, finally snapping.

His hand slid from my waist to my front, under the hem of my singlet, cupping my breast, thumb circling my tight nipple until I was whimpering. As suddenly as he’d been under my top, he was out again, hands cupping my bum to stand and lift me onto the desk once more.

Graham stopped abruptly. His hands stayed on my ass, but his whole body stilled. ‘Last chance, baby,’ he grunted, voice gravel. ‘Tell me to stop now, or I won’t.’

I reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair, bringing him down to kiss me again. I poured every second of summer scorched desire into that kiss. Every moment of poolside longing.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ I said definitively.

He smiled again, slow and dangerous. And dragged off my shorts.

Without warning he pushed two fingers into me. ‘Jesus,’ he groaned against my throat. ‘So wet already. You’ve been thinking about this while you were laying in the bed that I bought, in my house.’

‘Every time I come over,’ I whimpered. ‘Every time you looked at me like you want to ruin me. Every time you called me a good girl.’

He pumped inside me slowly, fingers curling like he’d studied for it, watching my face like he was committing every twitch to memory. I cried out, then bit my lip to muffle it.

‘Uhuh, girl. You don’t get to be quiet now,’ he said. ‘You wanted this. You’ll take it. And you’ll let me know how good I give it to you.’

He spun me around, bending me until my chest pressed against the cool wood of his desk.

For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the sound of Graham Callinan spitting on my pussy and rubbing our mess over his cock before sliding into me to the hilt.

My palms slapped the desk and the silent scream turned into a loud broken moan when he started moving— slow at first, letting her feel every inch. Then harder. Hips snapping. The desk creaking under us.

He yanked my braids again, pulling my head back to speak against my ear. ‘This is what happens when you tease a man who’s been starving for you,’ he grunted. ‘I fuck you. It’s not pretty. I won’t call you a good girl tonight. Cos you’re not. You’re a whore. My whore.’

His filthy cruelty was what tipped me over the edge into my first orgasm. And he didn’t stop, even as he felt me clenching drenched around him.

‘I fuck you raw. I fill you with my come. And next time you float those pretty tits in my fucking pool, you’ll still be dripping me.’

He pulled out, and the whine I made was embarrassing in a visceral way. It didn’t deter him however, as he knelt behind me and buried his face in my ass. Graham’s tongue ran from my clit to my asshole before sucking on the lips of my pussy. Making a meal out of me. Lapping at me until I could feel us both dripping down my thighs.

‘Please,’ I whimpered. ‘Sir, please.’

His growl reverberated through me from between my thighs.

He stood, turning me over and manhandling me until I was perched precariously on the edge of his desk, my legs hooked over his arms and his cock sliding back into me.

‘Wanna see your face as I fill you with me,’ he said through clenched teeth.

‘Fill me then.’

And he exploded. He buried himself in me, deep, groaning low and wrecked as he pulsed inside me. I could feel him fill me. Could practically hear our mix drip onto the rug under his feet.

We stayed like that for what felt like an extraordinary amount of time— but could have only been minutes— just breathing each other in. He kissed me. Softer, this time. Slower. Tender.

‘Next time,’ he said against my lips, ‘I’m gonna have you in the pool. Wanna watch this tits float while I’m inside you.’

‘Next time?’ I asked, trying not to let the hope in my voice sound too much like it.

‘Only if you’re a real good girl…’

‘Yes, Mr Callinan,’ I said. ‘I think I can manage that.’

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