Why the hell was he allowed to ground me? He wasn't even my real father. And when is getting a tattoo at eighteen even reason enough for grounding? He wouldn't even had seen it, if he hadn't come home early and watched me try on the party outfit that I'd planned on wearing that same evening.
I didn't even know how long he'd been standing in my doorway watching me like a creep.
At first he didn't say anything, he just stared at me with his penetrating blue eyes. Then he'd walked towards me slowly. I had thought that he was going to say something about my outfit, that it was too inappropriate or something like that.
But he had stopped in front of me, way too close, and while still looking me in the eyes, he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked on it. He then lowered his hand to my hip where my nearly healed tattoo was, and rubbed his wet thumb over it, to see if it would come off. When it didn't he'd grounded me, saying that I wasn't allowed out of the house for the entire weekend.
Which ruined my friday night plans.
My sort of boyfriend, Josh and I, was supposed to be at a party. It wasn't so much missing the party that made me angry, but the fact that tonight was suppose to be the night where Josh and I had sex.
Not had that we hadn't fooled around before, handjobs, blowjobs, that kind of stuff. But Josh was, to put it mildly, not very long lasting. So he had always come before entering me, but tonight he was going to bring Viagra.
And now my stepdad had ruined everything. The more I thought about it, the more angry I got.
Dammit, he wasn't the boss of me, and I was an adult.
Too hell with him, I thought and put on my new skirt and crop top, bearing the butterfly tattoo on my hip, and I thought that it wouldn't be long before I got a belly button ring.
When I was done dressing up, I
was
a bit nervous. I was a good girl and did as I was told, and never broke any rules. I had never thought about sneaking out before, but one time had to be the first. Luckily my bedroom windows was just above the garage roof, making it easy to get down to the ground floor.
What I hadn't taken into account was the old nails from the Christmas lights on the windowsill. They caught onto my skirt as I leaned out the window.
"Shit," I mumbled as i put my hands on the brown tiled roof below me, only just being able to support myself. I tried dragging myself forward, only to get stopped after an inch when my skirt didn't budge anymore.
"Shit," I said even louder this time. My feet had left the the carpeted floor of my bedroom, and I was hanging over the windowsill in the shape of a pyramid. I tried to push myself backwards but my arms were too short and not nearly strong enough to lift my entire weight that much.
I moaned. I was stuck, completely immobile, unable to go back or forth. It was so bad I wanted to cry. I had never in my life thrown a fit or been hysterical, but at that moment I was on the verge of screaming.
But I bit my tongue. There was no way in hell I would call for help, even if I had to be stuck all night.
It turned out I didn't have to though.
"Do you need help," a deep chuckling voice said behind me. I froze, of course Nathan was there, it was just the cherry on top of the cake.
"I'm just fine," I groaned humiliated, my face burning with embarrassment. The chuckling behind me continued as I struggled for a few more minutes before I let myself go limp, admitting my defeat.
"I believe that you have learned your lesson."
I could feel the heat from his body close to my thighs. Even though I had stopped struggling, I was still angry, maybe more now than before.
"Lesson?" I said in defiance. "I don't need to learn any lessons, I'm eighteen years old. And besides, you're not my dad."
There was a moment's silence before he spoke in a hoarse voice. "You're right, I'm not your dad."
Silence again, longer this time. I wondered if he had left the room.
"Nathan?" I asked. "Are you still there?" No answer, and again I was on the verge of tears. "Help me up."
"That's not a very polite way to speak," I sighed with relief by the sound of his voice. "Perhaps you should stay there a bit longer, you obviously still need to learn a few lessons."
I whined, but stopped immediately when I felt a warm hand caress my thigh, just below the edge of my skirt.
"Nathan," I gasped and tried to wiggle away but to no avail. "What are you doing?"
"Teaching you a lesson, taking advantage of you, take a pick," his voice was blunt, matter of fact, telling the truth. His hand still touching my bare skin.
