His Nasty Little Pussy

DADDY CONSOLES HIS BIRTHDAY GIRL

BUZZZZZZ.

The sound of the alarm pushed me out of my slumber. Unsurprisingly, I woke up on the sadder side of the bed. Today was the third anniversary of my mother’s death. Struck and killed by a drunk driver, she died on impact. I remember that day like it was yesterday. She was on her way home from the grocery store. She had gone to purchase a bottle of sparkling cider and some dinner items. It was my 18th birthday, and we wanted to celebrate at home, because it was a weeknight and she had work in the morning. Sadly, the day she kissed me good morning and told me I was a woman, was the day she died, leaving me alone with my stepfather.

Liam and I always got along great; I’d known him since I was 12. Mom dated him for nearly a year before introducing him to me. As my father had never been in the picture, having died when I was very young, Liam was the first man to treat me like his own child.

Once Mom passed, he assumed full responsibility for me. Other members of my family were willing to step up, but they lived several states away. I was just months away from graduating high school and didn’t need the upheaval. The acceptance letters for college had just started coming in. I also didn’t have the knowledge or strength to try and make it in this cold world alone, so I needed Liam to guide and protect me. My stepfather and I were close before my mother’s tragic passing, but her death forged an even more ironclad bond between us. I never worked on my birthday-November 18th-no matter what. Part of it was because I felt like it was my personal New Year, my celebration of life. The other part of it was because I needed to celebrate my mother’s life and legacy.

Liam and I usually visited Mom’s grave together, and then we did whatever I wanted to do for the rest of the day. Today was my 21st birthday. I’d be bringing roses to her grave, and to her memory, and then I’d be celebrating my first drink by fireplace.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s way of waking me up, reminding me of our plans.

“No,” I replied. “Give me 10 minutes.”

I pushed myself out of bed and looked out the window. Chunky storm clouds indicated heavy rains were on the way, as predicted in the forecast. This moody weather suited my emotions; it was contemplative and comforting all at once.

Ten minutes later, I was locking the door and stepping into Liam’s pickup. The black Avalanche was something he’d really wanted, and Mom purchased it for Christmas. It was the best-and final-gift she’d ever given him.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He asked.

“I’m all right.” My response was clean, neutral, but there was the slightest tremor in my tone. “It feels great to be 21, but at the same time…”

Silence between us spoke volumes. He knew exactly where I was going. “… It never gets any easier.” He responded, finally. Reaching over to pat my leg, he reminded me that it wasn’t my job to feel too down. “Today you’re really an adult. Your mother would be so proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Liam.”

My stepfather was a handsome man. He was 41 years old, but he looked 35 and damn good even for that age. Whereas most men in their 30s had a tire around their bellies, Liam worked out everyday. It was how he coped after Mom’s death.

At 6 feet even, he was tall enough to command attention when he walked into a room. Women noticeably sat up straighter when they noticed him. His sharp blue eyes and chiseled features made him look like an old school fragrance model.

Mom definitely had great taste. Women were pretty envious, assuming we were together based upon how young he looked. They were pleasantly shocked to learn he was my stepfather, as if it would bring them further to his heart.

They had no idea that Liam was off-limits. He had no interest in dating since Mom’s death, even when I insisted he do. Adamant that he wasn’t ready, Liam refused to listen, and instead would work out even harder. I wished there were something I could do, but I accepted the fact that all he wanted was my mother. And there was nothing anyone could do to influence his heart otherwise.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

Our annual trip to Mom’s grave was emotional. I couldn’t help but burst into tears when we got there. I told her how much I missed her, that life wasn’t the same without her. Liam shed a tear himself when he posited that he would give anything to have her back.

“All the money in the world wouldn’t make up for not having you by my side,” he said, laying a dozen roses of his own on the grave. Thunder warned us of the need to leave. Light spatters of rain peppered the ground. We held hands and made our way back to the car before the full downpour began.

“You still want to go out tonight in this weather?” He asked me, blue eyes raking the sky and the road ahead.

Shaking my head, I replied. “No. We can just order a pizza or something. It’s just another day.”

“You’re 21. We’ll find a way to make it special,” he insisted, grabbing my hand. His hand was mildly calloused, giving me extra sensitivity to the grains of his thumbpad as he swiped it across the top of my skin. Lusty warmth rose through my body and I felt the slightest of goosebumps. This was the worst time for me to be turned on, especially by my stepfather, a

man I shouldn’t be attracted to.

I say shouldn’t because I was, but I couldn’t help it. He was my stepdad, but he was fucking hot. And he was all I had. Even when I had sex with other guys, I didn’t feel an emotional connection in our romance. And even though it wasn’t supposed to be romantic, I just felt every ounce of connection with this man.

He was the man that made me his princess, and protected my honor and heart when the worst of life had happened to me after all.

Liam kept his promise. For the remainder of the day, he spoiled me like the princess I was. First, there was a delivery of flowers-wild roses, my favorite-in a beautiful crystal vase. Then, he presented me a blue Tiffany box. Inside was a custom locket with pictures of Mom and me. I burst into tears and cried in his arms. These were the most thoughtful gifts ever.

But the day wasn’t over yet.

The storm had progressed over the day, worsening until, by 6 PM, the sky was black as coal. Thunder rumbled throughout the evening, and lightning crackled so hard you would have thought the apocalypse was near. We embraced the ambiance and lit candles throughout the house, a precautionary measure in case the electricity was shut off.

During dinner-Chicago-style pizza-delivered from the best place in town, Liam entered the kitchen with a bottle of wine.

“Your mother purchased this for you years ago,” he said. “She actually purchased it the morning of your eighteenth birthday. She was so eager for you to take a sip, but I told her to wait until you were of legal age.”

The bottle, gold and cabernet in color, was exotic looking. I’d never

heard of the brand, and that’s when I learned it wasn’t even sold in the United States.

“We’ll drink this in her memory,” I said, asserting my need to remember her during this day.