Page 39 of Inked Daddies

My mind has never beenthis blank. That’s probably because I’ve never felt this good. I didn’t know anything could stop me from thinking, but here I am, just…here. I know it’s a chemical thing, and I’m sure my brain will kick on soon, but right now I just want to bask in this feeling.

It is gloriously quiet in my head. The only sounds are the four of us catching our breath and the whir of the air conditioning. I should have made it colder in here before we got started. Normally when me and the guys have fun with a girl, I jack the air down, because four or more people going at it makes a lot of heat. Unfortunately, Hugo sprung this on me with almost no warning.

Not that I regret any of what just happened.

That word triggers something in my brain, and it’s like the lights are turning back on. As the sex fog lifts, my thoughts leak into my brain again.

The only thought that matters is Marie. “Are you okay?”

Her face is sweaty—I think we all are. I can tell she’s tired, and I don’t blame her. I lost count of her orgasms. But she smiles and yawns. “I’m better than okay. Way better.”

It’s a relief to hear that, in more ways than one.

She saw what I did to Crow. Trick watched her masturbate. Hugo bothered her at work. She could have hated us for all of that, but she still showed up here tonight. She said yes every chance she got. So, she doesn’t regret any of this. If anything, she liked it.

A lot.

I thought I’d feel something aside from this…I don’t know what I’m feeling exactly. Contentment? Satisfaction? Unsure. But I thought guilt would surely be a part of the mix.

The four of us clean up and dress as best we can, and I take a moment before speaking. Can’t help but notice when she holds up her shredded panties at Trick. “These were expensive, by the way,” she teases.

He laughs. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“You better.”

The mood is lighter than I expected. What we had just now was something I can’t put words on. But if I had to put a word to it, it’d bemagic.

That was fucking magical.

I don’t know how she did it. That was her first time, and she took us all like a champ. No. Not a champ. A goddess. A goddess I want to drop to my knees and pray to night and day.

I swallow, trying to clear my head, but it won’t work. “I’m gonna get some air. I’ll be right back.” I kiss the top of her head and bolt for the door.

The fresh night air hits, and there’s no clarity out here, but there is much-needed space and solitude. I lean against the wall outside the shop, staring at the night sky and ignoring the mosquitos.

The stars look the same as they always do—bright and distant and indifferent, scattered across the darkness like flecks of paint someone forgot to clean up. They’re as constant as anything in this world, but tonight they don’t feel like enough. Not when my thoughts are tied up with her.

Marie.

It’s not like me to get tangled up like this. I’ve always been the steady one, the dependable one. The guy who keeps his feet on the ground when everyone else is flying off the rails. I’ve lived my life that way for as long as I can remember, content to let the world spin as it will.

Aunt Jenny says I’m a rock. Great to depend on, or to throw at someone’s head when needed. I always took that for a compliment, but tonight I’m not so sure.

I don’t feel like a rock right now, and being dependable is its own kind of curse. I’m pretty sure Preacher has never thought I’d let him down like this, and on any other night I’d feel bad about what I did. But not right now.

Truthfully, not ever. I could never regret what I did tonight.

Yet, for the first time in years—maybe for the first time ever—I don’t feel steady. I don’t feel grounded. At this moment, I feellike I’m free-falling toward the stars, and the only thing I can see is her.

I should feel guilty about what just happened. Ishould.But I don’t. I know I should be out here pacing, wringing my hands over the fact that she’s Preacher’s daughter, that she’s so much younger than me, that this is all kinds of complicated.

But the truth is, I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it. Not even a little bit. Because what just happened in that room? It wasn’t just some casual fling. Not to me. It wasn’t just about the way she felt, the way she looked, the way she tasted.

It was about the way she made me feel. Alive. Wanted. Like I wasn’t just some placeholder in her life. Not just a hookup. And that’s not something I’ve felt in a long, long time.

I’ve been lonely before. Not for friends—I’ve had Trick and Hugo since we were practically kids, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. But romantically? That’s a different story.

I’ve had my share of women, of course. Hell, I’ve had ten other guys’ fair share of women too. You don’t make it to forty-two without at least a few stories to tell. But none of them ever stuck. Not because they weren’t good enough or because I didn’t care—I just never felt like I could give them what they wanted.

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