Steve Parker
Incest girl
CHAPTER ONE
The insistent ringing of the phone pounded into Alan Madden's skull like a jackhammer. He reached for it, removing it from the hook, and set it on the nightstand. Sleepily, he fumbled for his cigarettes and lighter. Flicking the wheel, he glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past six.
Goddamn it! he thought. Who the fucking hell could be dumb enough to call a man at this ungodly hour of the morning?
He sucked on the cigarette, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs while regarding the phone, debating with himself whether he should find out who was on the other end of the line and what they wanted. Again he drew on the cigarette before mashing it out in an ironwood ashtray and picking up the receiver.
"Hello!" he barked into the mouthpiece, leaving no doubt that he was displeased over being disturbed this early in the morning. "Do you know what time it is? It's five o'clock in the fucking morning!"
"Stop exaggerating, Dad!" she scolded him with a tingling laugh. "It's after six and you know it. Did I wake you?" She laughed again and added, "Even if I did, you don't have to be so grouchy, Dad."
When he heard the familiar voice, a warm glow spread throughout his stomach, as if he had just tossed off a double shot of excellent, imported Scotch. "No," he lied, his tone soft. "I was awake, baby." Even if he wanted to, Alan could not have prevented the tingling feeling from bubbling in his nuts at the mere sound of her sexy, sultry voice.
She laughed, aware of the effect she always had on her darling father. "I love you, Dad," she whispered, evoking memories of the many wonderful times the two of them had fucked each other to the point of exhaustion. She never failed to fill him with an urgent, burning desire since that first time he had dared screw her, making her his lover and a woman. But a woman only in the sense that she was to learn every aspect of sex. Alan had unknowingly instilled in his daughter the burning demand for sexual satisfaction which equaled and, more often than not, surpassed his own.
"Are you still in bed?" she asked, and there was a different quality in her voice than there had been a moment before. It was a soft purr, almost a tangible caress deep in his groin.
"Uh-huh," he answered, then teased her with: "But I'm about to get up and go to the office. I've got some things I've been neglecting and I must get them done before the staff arrives. Why?" He knew precisely why she'd asked, and was pleased that she had.
"Kirk left for work a few minutes ago," she explained, as if he wasn't well-aware of what time her husband departed each morning. "May I come over?" An astute ear would have detected the slight pleading quality projected even through the phone.