Daddy Knows Best (3 page)

“Show’s over,” I snapped. “I mean it.”

Her eyes turned dark, hurt and angry. “Are you fucking serious, Andrew? For fucking real?”

“Deadly,” I said. “Please, Georgia, do as you’re told for once.”

Her mouth slammed shut; a tight little line of rage. She pulled up her panties, smoothing down her nightdress. “Asshole!” she yelled. “I thought you wanted me!”

I sighed. “That isn’t it, sweetheart.”

“Fine, whatever,” she snapped. “I’ll go get fucked by someone else, someone who
does
want me.”

“Jesus, Georgia, that isn’t it.”

“Six fucking months!” she screeched. “I’ve thought about this the whole time!”

My temples were pounding, senses in overload. “It’s not
me
you want, baby face. You only want what you can’t have. That’s the thing with being spoiled; you want the toy just out of reach.”

“Fuck you, you patronising prick.”

I stalked over in a heartbeat, pressing my face into hers. “Don’t you dare use that tone with me. I could beat you again all day long, a hard-on isn’t compulsory.”

“You’re kidding yourself,” she said. “I felt how hard you were.”

“I’m sick of your spoiled little tantrums, Georgia, sick to fucking death.”

“This isn’t a tantrum!” she raged. “I really want this!”

“Sure,” I smiled. “Wanted this enough to make my life hell for six months. You can kid yourself, sweetheart, but don’t kid me. You hated my guts on sight.”

“You don’t know me at all,” she said. This time her eyes took me aback, they were pooling, heavy with hurt.

I mustered all the resolve I could manage, holding myself firm until she accepted defeat. She grabbed her phone and stormed away, a typhoon of slamming doors and thumping footfalls.

It was a long time before I moved from that kitchen, staying out of her way until I heard her leave the house. I called her name once, twice, three times to be sure, and then, finally, when I was certain she was out of the way, I made my way up to her bedroom.

***

Georgia Tate’s diary was easy to find. Too easy. It ate further at my unease. It was thinly disguised under a stack of paperbacks, its pink satin cover jutting out underneath like a sore thumb. Maybe she’d wanted me to find it the whole time, only
I’m
not a sneaky fucking snitch.

I sat down on her bed, flicking through the pages. Yesterday’s entry was bookmarked, as good a place to start as any.

I’m drunk again. Really drunk. Beth and Stacy got in my face tonight, called me a skanky little slut. Beth said I’d been giving Richard the eye. Like fuck I had. He’s the prick who’s been trying it on with me ever since her birthday last September. I can’t stand him, anyway, his breath smells of eggs and by all accounts he has erection problems, Beth told me herself.

Andrew was kind to me this evening, it even looked like he gave a shit. I tried to tell him who I am, what I want. Yeah, I know... fucking face palm city. He touched my knee, and it felt so fucking good. He sent me to bed, and like an idiot I wondered if he’d come after me. He didn’t. I followed him into his bedroom, yeah, yeah, what’s new? Only this time I went further. I watched him shower, and fuck, his ASS. It’s like steel...

A wave of nausea rose up from my gut. I scanned on, hardly able to look.

I watched him jerk himself off. It was so hot. Part of me can’t help but wonder. You know. Maybe, just maybe it was about me...

I flicked back through the journal; pages and pages and pages of secrets that a man like me should never have access to. Through the nausea my dick was already hard, images of Georgia Tate’s perfect little pussy spread open for me scorching my resolve, burning it to ashes. I found the entry six months earlier. The day I arrived in her life. I could hardly bear to read.

Mother has a husband. A fucking husband!! Out of nowhere, I mean what the fuck?? She dropped me a text message, a TEXT, to let me know I have a new stepdaddy. Fucking awesome. I wanted a stepdad my whole fucking life, and now I’m twenty she decides to marry some random? She’s such a BITCH. They are arriving home today, YES, to MY home, BOTH of them. Hey, Georgia, here’s your new Dad. Like that’s NORMAL. Apparently his name is Andrew, and he’s some hotshot IT executive or some shit. I’m never going to be ok with this, EVER.

My blood turned to ice. Text message? Cynthia told her daughter about me by text message? I thought back to our wedding-day, our early morning conversation.

“Are you sure you want to do this now? What about your daughter? Wouldn’t she want to be here?”

Cynthia smiled, brushed it aside, as though it was the most ludicrous suggestion she’d ever heard. “Georgia? No! She’s a big girl, Andrew, she doesn’t need to be here. Believe me, Georgia won’t even care. She’s not that kind of girl.”

Seems Cynthia knew even less about her daughter than I did.

He’s here. Oh my God, he’s here. Daddy Andrew. I want to hate him, hate both of them, and I DO hate them, but it’s so much more fucked up than I thought it would be. He turned up with a suitcase, just like that. Held out his hand and said ‘Hi, I’m Andrew, but you can call me Dad’ like a real fucking comedian. He’s younger than Mother. Not much, but enough. And you know what? The thing I don’t get, after the ice-queen she’s been my entire life, the frigid, prudish, man-hating bitch she’s ALWAYS been, how the hell did she land a guy like him? He’s absolutely, insanely, ridiculously, obscenely, disgustingly hot. The guy’s huge, like HUGE. He was wearing this t-shirt and he is so fucking ripped you can see every muscle on him. His hair is so dark it looks black, apart from this tiny bit of grey he has above his ears, but even that looks hot on him. His eyes are green. GREEN under dark brows. He’s way out of Mother’s league. He shouldn’t BE here, not with HER.

I’m supposed to hate him, but now I just hate her even more. I expected to feel a lot of things with a brand new daddy in my house, but I didn’t expect to feel like this. I’ve never felt so jealous in my fucking life.

I’m crushing like crazy over my new daddy, the guy that’s fucking my mother. Can life get any more fucked up than this?

My hard on disappeared, finally. At least there was some shred of morality in my filthy body. I was reeling, knocked for six. I flicked to a random page.

I’ve been horrible to Andrew-Dad for two whole months and he’s STILL here. I thought he’d have given up by now, fucked off back where he came from, but no. He hates me now, I know he does. Mother’s finally stopped parading him like a show pony. She hardly bothers with him at all, I haven’t seen them talk in days. She’s back on her phone again, planning trips again, like he never even arrived. I’m sure they’re not fucking, they act like they don’t even know each other.

I’m having nightmares again every night. I told Mother but she only snapped again, snarking that I should have grown out of them by now. I still haven’t told the bitch they’re always about her. She gave me some cash to sort out the shrink again, but I’m not going back there. I just wish I could sleep.

I spied Andrew typing his laptop password last night. Ladyluck69. There’s something about him I don’t get. He’s so serious all the time, but he never talks about his past, just comes and goes from work every day like he never had a life before this. I checked out his laptop but only for a minute while he was in the shower. He watches pornography A LOT, maybe even as much as me. If only he knew what I was really like. Maybe then he’d realise he married the wrong woman.

A few pages on.

I’m fucking a million randoms again. I can’t stop myself. I need to get HIM out of my system. It’s been ten times worse since I saw his porn stash. I look at it whenever I get chance, like some weird crazy stalker. He’s so dirty, maybe even dirtier than I am. He’s watched this one video about twenty times, and it’s so fucking dark. A young blonde gets tied up in some basement and fucked by about five different men. It’s one of the roughest vids I’ve ever seen. She takes two cocks in her ass and it actually makes her cry. They call her dirty names, and choke her and spit all over her, but you know what? She likes it. I know she likes it, I can see it in her eyes.

Just like he’d see it in mine.

I went to college for the first time in months. They are threatening to chuck me out now, but I don’t give a shit. I didn’t go in for lectures today, just for cock. I sucked two at once outside our student canteen - two of the nerdy guys from library club. I stuffed their cocks in my throat until I retched up my dinner, and the whole time I wished he could see me, see what a dirty girl I really am.

Andrew’s all I think about. I just wish he’d be the big, dark Daddy I want him to be. Maybe one day he will be, if I push him far enough.

Maybe one day he’ll lose his temper and put me in a basement. I’d love him to tie me up and fuck
me
until I cry. A girl can dream, can’t she?

I slammed the book closed, recoiling from its brutal honesty. My hands were shaking and clammy, and my insides were mushed up to shit. I wished I’d never read the thing, wished I’d never reacted in the kitchen and smacked the shit out of her. I wished I’d never met her, never met her mother, never been in Kefalonia in the first place.

No. That was a lie. I didn’t regret it.

But I may well regret what was yet to come.

I left her diary open on her bed.

The time for secrets was over.

***

I was staring at my bedroom ceiling when the front door slammed. I checked the bedside clock. Two thirty am. The clattering around downstairs made it clear she was drunk again, but I made no attempt to go down to her. I was still wide awake when she made her way to bed, hardly breathing as I heard her moving around in the room next door. Finally, she was quiet.

I must have been dozing when my bedroom door creaked open.

“Andrew?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

I grunted, loud in the night. “Georgia?”

Her scent hit me, dark cherry and vanilla. “You read my diary.”

“You wanted me to,” I replied, simply.

“I had a nightmare,” she said, moving closer. The air was like static, crackling in the space between us. “A bad one. You must have read about them?”

I cursed the blood in my veins, cursed the way I wanted her. “You’re safe, Georgia, nothing can hurt you, not in this house.”

“It can,” she whispered. “
Everything
hurts me in this house.” I stayed silent, willing her away. “Can I lay with you? Just a while.”

“This is a bad idea, sweetheart. You know it as well as I do.”

“Please...” she said.

She was so close, hovering by the bed in the darkness, illuminated by only the faintest glow from the streetlamps outside. I hated my own fingers as they pulled back the duvet. Hated my own hammering pulse, and the way I craved to consume her. She slid in beside me, clutching her knees to her chest to keep her distance.

“I’m sorry I’m such a bitch to you. I’m a bitch to everyone.”

“So, choose not to be,” I said. “Nobody makes you do anything.”

“You could...” she began. “
You
could make me do anything.”

I sighed, changing the subject. “You haven’t been going to college. Why?”

“I hate it there. I hate the people, hate the routine.”

“You need to go to college. It’s your future.”

“Who cares about my future?”

“Your mother does. I do. You should.”

“She doesn’t care. Not about me, not about you, either.” She let go of her knees, stretching out beside me. Her face was only inches away, close enough that I could feel her breath on my cheek. “Why did you marry her?”

I smiled in the darkness. “
Love
, of course.” I could almost feel her frown. “What do you want me to say? We got on, she was funny… driven… attractive. Our lives seemed compatible. I wanted a new life, a new start.”

“You talk about all that in the past tense.”

“Isn’t it past tense? She’s on the other side of the planet, you’re in my bed,
her
bed, talking about her like she was never here.”

“She’s never here. Not when it matters. Never has been.”

“I shouldn’t have hit you, Georgia. I’m sorry.”

“I wanted you to,” she whispered. “I always wanted you to. I liked you being my daddy, Andrew. I liked it.”

My cock betrayed me, my whole damn body threatening my resolve. My secret life itched at me, begging for confession. She can’t have seen the truth on my laptop, can’t have any fucking idea. I kept my silence. “What do you dream about?”

She sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up into the darkness. “I’m trapped in a dark room with no windows, nobody knows I’m there except my mother, and she’s laughing at me. She laughs as the walls start closing in. I’m begging her to help me, to let me out, but she never does. I wake up just before they crush me.”