TABOO:BATION — 50 SHADES OF FORBIDDEN SHORTS novel Chapter 17

ALWMSD: FUCK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER 1

The sun was streaming into the kitchen, turning the white marble counters into bright sheets of light. I was standing at the stove in just pants and no shirt, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filling the air. I looked like a normal man doing normal things. But in reality, this was my way of making myself feel less guilty after what I did yesterday.

But even as I flipped the eggs, I was anticipating something: the sound of Angel’s feet approaching the dining area.

Then I heard it. The soft, rhythmic pat–pat–pat of bare feet on the hardwood.

“Good morning, Daddy,” the sweet voice whispered from right behind my ear.

I turned my head slightly. Angel was standing there, dressed for school. She was wearing a tiny black pleated skirt that barely covered her thighs and a crisp white button–down shirt. Her hair was pulled back, but a few blonde strands fell over her face. She looked like the perfect student, but the look in her eyes was anything but academic.

She didn’t wait for me to answer. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing

her chest firmly against my bare back.

“Good morning, baby,” I called back. “How was your night?” I asked the normal, regular question any father should ask. But the memories flooded my head, sending heat to my body. I knew exactly how her

night was.

“Thanks to you, Daddy,” she murmured into my shoulder. “I had the best dreams ever. I kept feeling you

everywhere.”

My heart did a somersault. “Angel, stop,” I said softly, though I didn’t push her away. “I’m making breakfast for the family. And… you don’t get to talk like that in public.”

“Sorry, Daddy, I thought since it’s just us.

I nodded, concentrating on the pan.

“Mmm, this smells good,” she said, her hands sliding down my bare stomach. 1

“What are you making?”

“Omelets and bacon,” I rasped.

“Where’s Mummy?” she asked, her voice getting lower.

I nodded toward the large glass window over the kitchen sink. “She’s in the yard. She’s been on a conference call for twenty minutes. She’s busy.”

Through the glass, I could see Elena. She was pacing near the rose bushes, her phone pressed to her ear, waving her hand as she talked. She was right there–maybe thirty feet away. If she turned her head at the right moment, she’d see us through the window.

Angel didn’t let go. In fact, her grip tightened. Her hands started to move, her palms grazing the fabric of my grey sweatpants. My breath hitched.

“What are you doing, Angel?” I asked.

“I was wondering…” she said, her fingers tracing the outline of my pockets. “Can we have another lesson today? Just a quick one?”

“Your mom is right there, Angel,” I reminded her, my voice cracking. “She could walk in for a coffee refill at any second. It’s too risky. We need to eat, and you need to get to school.” 1

“Oh… that’s true,” she said softly. But she didn’t move. Her hand lingered right at the base of my belly, her thumb dancing near the waistband of my pants. I could feel my body responding. The “tension” from yesterday hadn’t gone away; it had just been hiding. I was already getting hard, a thick, heavy pulse

“Daddy,” she called.

“Daddy, you’re tense too,” she whispered. “It seems like your dick wants it just as much as my pussy does.”

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