What Was Meant To Be, page 11
Thank you, Michelle. I think to myself.
I briefly wonder what woke me up when I hear sounds coming from the kitchen. I make my way there, not sure who I’m expecting and I groan inwardly when I see Whitney standing on her tiptoes to grab something from the top of the cabinet in a very short mini skirt. I try to back my way out of the room so as to not engage with her at two o’clock in the morning when she’s obviously a little under the influence of something. As much as I want to scold her and ask her how she made it home, and help her get whatever she’s trying to reach, I don’t want to interact with her because things between her and I are changing and I don’t fucking like it.
Well, I don’t hate it if I’m being honest, but it’s wrong. So, fucking wrong. This is Whitney. My goddaughter.
She spins around and I’m granted a view of her front, which is a low-cut shirt that has her delicious tits that I’ve thought about more than a few times over the past few weeks on display. Her hair falls around her shoulders in messy waves, her lips are pouty and full and coated in something fire engine red but it’s her eyes that get me. They’re large and kind of hazy but they’re staring at me like I hold all of the answers to life’s questions.
“JP!” She squeals, but not at a high enough volume to wake anyone in the house. She runs around the island and into my arms before I have a chance to reply. “I didn’t know you were here!”
“Yeah…” I cough, trying to stifle the groan sitting in the back of my throat caused by Whitney pressed up against me squirming around. “The Lakers game ran late and I had too many beers. I was going to take an Uber but I fell asleep and I just woke up to your entrance I guess.” I rub the heel of my palm into my eyes to try and chase the rest of the sleep away.
“Sorry!” she says as she pulls out of my arms and hops up on the island in front of me and begins to swing her legs. I’m hyper aware that she’s in a skirt so I’m trying my best to avoid looking down, while also trying to avoid her tits. God, I’m in hell.
“And where have you been anyway? Isn’t your curfew at midnight?” I say, looking at my watch that reads just after two in the morning.
“Technically it’s one now that I’m out of high school, but shhh.” She puts her finger to her lips. “I’m literally going to college in two months, I don’t think my parents care that I’m down the street at my friend’s house.”
“They will if you’re drunk.”
Her eyes widen before she puts a hand over her mouth. “Who says I’m drunk?”
“Your face, for one. Your voice for two.” I cross my hands over my chest and give her a fake scolding look.
Her mouth drops open before she presses her hands to my cheeks. “They won’t know that I’m drunk, unless you tell them. And you won’t tell them, right?” She puts both hands under her chin and cocks her head to the side, batting her eyelashes at me. “JPEEEE, please.”
“I won’t but just… you’re always careful right? No driving? Not in the car with anyone that’s been drinking? No drugs?”
“Definitely not the first two things but…” she cups her hands around her mouth and whispers, “I do smoke weed sometimes.”
I let out a breath. “I don’t like that you’re doing that.”
“But…” She pouts. “It’s fun…” She pauses. “And it’s legal now! I’m eighteen, JP, relax.”
Yes, weed was legal in California for recreational use but the idea of Whitney doing any type of drug has my blood boiling. “I will certainly not relax. It can be dangerous and you’re barely legal.” My voice is stern and I hope she gets the message that I’m not fucking around about this.
“Barely legal is still legal,” she responds instantly and I know I’m not imagining the look she’s giving me. She looks up at me through her lashes and a sexy smirk crosses her face. It’s obvious what she’s doing and while in some circumstances it might be obnoxious, in this moment, it’s sexy as fuck.
“Whitney…” I trail off. “What’s going on with…” I point back and forth between us. “This.”
“What do you mean?” she says innocently and I give her a look.
“Don’t. You’ve been… you know… you’re…” I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the situation or a combination of both but I’m at a loss for words.
“Attracted to you.” She nods. “Correct.” She says it easily like they aren’t words that change the dynamic of our eighteen-year relationship.
I’m shocked at her boldness and it makes me wonder just how much she’s had to drink. “How? I mean… I’ve known you… you can’t.”
“Why not? You’re not my father, as much as you thought you were.” She says, rolling her eyes.
“When?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. When do girls start developing crushes?”
My eyes widen at the confession. So, what, early teens? Jesus Christ. “That long ago?”
“Of course. Most girls’ first crushes are on wildly inappropriate people. Teachers, sometimes family members, Dad…” She ticks off her fingers as she lists them. “I just never grew out of mine.”
I’m shocked she’s being this direct and honest with me. Maybe it’s because she’s always felt comfortable with me to share her feelings. Plus, the alcohol of course. This is the first time we’ve truly been alone since I’ve been back and she’s been eighteen so maybe she’s been waiting for this moment?
I scratch my stubble and drop my head back silently asking for some sort of answer from above on how to navigate this. “Angel….” I wince, realizing I can’t call her that right now especially when I see the look in her eyes. “Whitney.”
“Mmmmhm…”
“We can’t.”
“Why?”
“WHY?” I whisper shout. “What do you mean why?”
“We’re adults.”
“Yes, and I’m one of which who helped raise you. I’m your Godfather.”
“And nothing about that turns you on? Because it makes me wet as fuck,” she says hopping off the counter and grabs one of her dad’s beers from the refrigerator and I almost choke on my spit at her words. I didn’t care if she swore and Mason did like a sailor but it was rare that I hear any curse words come out of her mouth and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say ‘fuck.’ Not to mention: WHAT as fuck? I blink at her, my cock hardening in my sweatpants that I’m now realizing is probably on display for her lustful eyes.
And sure enough her gaze drops to my dick before meeting my gaze again. “Do you know how many nights I gave myself an orgasm thinking about you?” She leans over the counter, giving me a better look down her shirt.
I swallow, blinking my eyes several times as if I’m trying to convince my brain that what I’m seeing is actually happening and it needs to do something to stop it.
“How many boys dumped me because ‘how can I be this hot, to be so cold’ when it comes to anything related to sex because I never wanted any of them to touch me.”
“You… you’re a virgin?” Based on how comfortable she is talking about sex, I did not expect that.
“It’s hard to get in the mood when you’re obsessed with your dad’s best friend. Really, who can compare?”
“Have you… has anyone given you an orgasm?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. She shakes her head no and I feel a painful ache in my dick that should serve as a warning to not proceed down this road.
“Only my hand. Fueled by a lot of fantasies of you,” she whispers.
These revelations have my head spinning. Did I not realize this whole time that she’d had these feelings for me? I mean when she was younger, I knew she had an innocent crush but that didn’t have her touching herself to thoughts of me. No, this is different.
“Whitney… I…” I begin pacing wondering what the hell I’m going to do with this information.
Fuck her. A thought floats through my brain. One time. Or maybe hundreds of times. She’s eighteen. Ride her sexy little virgin cunt until she comes all over your dick.
I take a step back trying to rid myself of these lustful thoughts coursing through my brain. I pass by her and grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “No,” I say, slamming the door shut.
“No?” She looks up at me before biting down on her lip as it trembles. “You never tell me no.”
“You never ask for shit that’s impossible to give you.”
“Not true. You once got me a pony before Mom made you take it back.” God, I remember that. Whitney cried for three months when I took it back but Miche and Kev were pissed as fuck that I’d even gotten her one in the first place.
“And even that was easier to get and I got it from Goddamn Europe.”
“I loved Cheerio.” She pouts and I roll my eyes remembering that she ran around the house screaming ‘Pip Pip Cheerio’, in an awful fake accent when she found out the pony was from London.
“You’re not doing yourself any favors by reminding me that I bought you a pony when you were seven years old, Whitney.” I march out of the room, prepared to put all of this out of my mind when I hear her running behind me. I’m back on the couch, sitting, not laying because I did not trust her not to crawl on top of me with how she’s acting.
“So, you’re telling me you don’t want to?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips.
“I’m telling you I can’t want to.”
“Are you attracted to me? Because I saw how you looked at me when you got home a month ago.”
Fuck. “I was confused at who you were at first. Your hair was different, your braces were gone, and you had different… curves. I thought you were a friend of yours.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious, Whitney.” Sort of true.
“I think you’ve been struggling with the fact that you’re attracted to me. That I’ve been flirting with you pretty hard and you want to respond to it. You want to respond to the fact that I touch myself thinking about you. That I want to touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.” She sits next to me and then before I can even blink, she’s in my lap. “Why are you fighting this so hard?”
I try to move her but she puts her hands on my shoulders and tightens her thighs around my legs to keep herself in place. “Because…”
She bites her bottom lip. “Because why? No one has to know.”
“I can’t betray your parents like this.”
“It’s not betrayal.”
“Hooking up with their daughter I’ve known her whole life is very much a betrayal.”
“Okay, but what about betraying me? Aren’t you concerned about that?”
My eyes widen but somehow my hands find her hips. I hadn’t meant to; I just didn’t know what to do with them and they naturally found their way there. I pull away instantly but she’s already noticed and she squirms on my lap. Rubbing her pussy against my cock. Fuck me. Get her off, Jacob. “Me not touching you is betraying you? That’s a stretch, Whit, and stop moving around on my lap so much” I grip her hips trying to keep her in place but she keeps fucking moving, rubbing against my dick and making me harder with each passing second.
“Why? It feels good.” I swallow past the lump in my throat because it did feel really fucking good but I have to stop. “You told me you’d do anything for me. On numerous occasions.” Her hands find my chest and I’m grateful she doesn’t make a move to kiss me.
“That does not include a lot of things.”
“Like what? Because I’m fairly certain if I needed you to help me hide a body you would. So, you’d commit a crime for me but you won’t do this?”
“Theoretically, I’d commit a crime for you.”
“No. You and I both know you would.”
“Why are we talking about this? Whitney, this is wrong.”
“But it feels good.” She wets her lip and my eyes drop to mouth. “Doesn’t it?” I don’t respond. “Don’t I feel good?” She leans down and presses her lips to my neck before grazing her teeth over my earlobe and I groan.
“Fuck. Where did you learn to be like this? How are you this confident about sex as a virgin?”
“You made me this confident about everything,” she whispers. “You taught me to go after what I want and what I want JP, is you.”
She begins to move back and forth against me, and I feel the heat from between her legs even through my sweatpants. My cock is hard as steel and standing up, nestled between her legs as she continues to rock against me. “Will you let me come like this?”
I don’t respond, but I don’t make an effort to stop her, if anything I grip her hips harder to keep her in place. Our eyes are locked as she continues to fuck me through our clothes and I feel like I’m going to come at any moment.
“I can feel how wet you are,” I tell her through gritted teeth. I drop my head back on the couch letting the feeling pull me under and then I’m lost to what’s going on. My hands have begun moving on their own, pulling her harder against me. She whimpers against my neck, running her tongue up toward my pulse point before sucking on the skin there.
How did she know that was my weak spot?
I move my hands from her hips to grab her ass, putting my hands under her skirt to find silky underwear. I squeeze and she lets out a low moan in my ear.
“God, I think I’m going to come.”
I lift my head up at her words and let my eyes open to watch her. I’ve been hovering over my climax for a few moments now and hearing her whisper those words against me has me spilling into my briefs. “Fuck fuck fuck.” I press my face into her neck as I come for what feels like forever. I’m vaguely aware that I hear her gasp and when I pull out of her neck her lips are caught between her teeth. “Come for me, princess.”
“Fuck.”
“Use me to make you feel good.”
“So good.” She drops her head back and I press my lips to her neck, doing the same thing she did to me. Trailing my tongue along her before nipping her chin.
“I want to kiss you when I come,” she says, her nails are digging into my shoulders at this point so I imagine she’s only got a few more seconds before she goes over the edge.
I grip her chin and guide it toward me and press my lips to hers. She gasps in my mouth and my tongue takes off in search of hers and then she begins to shake in my arms. Her thrusts against me become more erratic, her nails dig into me harder and she lets out a low whimper. Her tongue is still dancing with my mine sensually and it’s easily the most erotic experience of my life. Her entire body vibrates on top of me and when she pulls away from me, her eyes fluttering open all I can think about is cleaning up the mess between her legs with my mouth.
We kiss through the entirety of my trip down memory lane, our bodies twisting together underneath the blanket as she climbs into my lap and begins to hump me in a similar fashion that she did that night. That night was the beginning of our relationship. It took me a few weeks to take her virginity but we did everything else up until then. She loved my mouth between her legs, and if I was honest so did I and she sucked my dick with such enthusiasm despite my size. And then one night, when I’d whisked her to a hotel under the ruse that she was sleeping at a friend’s house, I took her virginity on a bed of rose petals atop satin sheets in a room full of candles.
The first time I made love to her, soft and slow and worshipped every inch of her beforehand to try and temper the pain of losing her virginity. But after we’d finished, seeing the blood on my dick made me feel almost feral as feelings of possession bloomed in my chest and I took her almost brutally the second time.
For what it’s worth, that time she came.
“I’ve missed this so fucking much,” she moans as she pulls off my shirt. She pulls hers off immediately after leaving her in a lacy white bra that I can see her nipples through. I run my tongue over my teeth and I immediately want to suck them into my mouth. I reach around her and unhook her bra letting them spring free and I let my eyes flutter shut at the visual.
“Jesus, Whitney.” My eyes immediately go to her clavicle where the words are written in light script. It’s dark, only the light from the fireplace and the string of tea lights illuminates the patio so it’s hard to make out. “When did you get this?”
“A few weeks after you left.” She leans down to give me a better look and while I assumed it had to do with me, I wasn’t expecting it at the same time.
In script, it says, “after all this time?” and just beneath it, “always.”
She swallows and leans back. “I told myself one day you would come back to me. That you still loved me and we’d find our way back to each other. But, in the off chance you didn’t, I would just look like a normal Harry Potter stan, which I am.” She shrugs with a faint smile on her lips. This was true, she was one, but so was I. It was something we bonded over when she was growing up. We read all the books and watched the movies together and had been to Harry Potter World more than once. So, the tattoo has many different meanings which I’m sure made explaining it easier.
“Then baby, why all the pushback when I did come back to you?” I push the hair out of her face and hold her face with both hands.
“Because I was mad at myself for not waiting,” she tells me honestly, as a tear slips down her cheek. Her brown eyes are bright, her chocolate-colored orbs highlighted by the tears in her eyes. “I am mad at you too for breaking us, but… now I have to hurt someone. I put all these unresolved feelings and emotions I had over you and locked them in a box in my brain and away from where my heart could feel it so I could heal. And then you come back and you ripped it open.” She sniffles and I wipe the tears from her eyes. “I hoped and prayed every day for over a year that you’d come back and then I guess I just gave up. You told me to move on and I realized that I needed to listen. You love my parents and I understand not wanting to ruin that relationship.”
“I’ll tell them. Tomorrow. You don’t have to be there, or you can. But tomorrow.”
“No!” she says, her eyes wide and unblinking.
