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red; I couldn’t help it. I wished he would just stop talking and eat.
    “This sounds like a good story,” Maxwell goaded him. “Do tell…”
    My dad didn’t need much encouragement. “This kid, some Bradley, or Benjamin…”
    “Brian,” I supplied, though I don’t know why I was encouraging him.
    “Yeah, Brian. Well, anyway…this kid shows up with a fucking ring in his eyebrow, and he thinks he’s going to take Kenz out?”
    “Dad, he was a nice guy.”
    “There are no nice guys. All they want is to get in your pants. Tell her, Max.”
    I glanced at Maxwell, who was choking on his food. It was nice to see him unnerved for once. I should have let it go—I really should have—but I couldn’t resist.
    “Now, that’s not true. Not all guys are trying to get in my pants. I mean, you’re a guy, aren’t you, Senator Joseph?”
    He continued to cough and sputter.
    “Jesus, Max! Eat much?”
    My dad’s joke spared him from answering. We ate in silence for a few minutes after that, the only sound coming from the game on the television.
    “I do have to say, though, that guy I saw over at your dorm when I stopped by last week didn’t look like a loser. What was his name? Jon, I think. Anyway, nice kid.”
    I knew exactly who he was talking about. Jon, my roommate’s ex, had stopped by to get a few things. He was a huge player, but unlike that poor kid Brian, from high school, Jon knew how to schmooze the parents. Also, unlike Brian, Jon was trying to get in my pants; I just wasn’t interested.
    “Dad, he was no one. And I’d appreciate if this conversation would end now.”
    The rest of dinner went better. Maxwell asked about my major—which was still undeclared—and some of my other courses. He actually seemed genuinely interested.
    By the time I brought out the pumpkin pie he had made, my dad decided he had spent enough time away from the game. “Everything was delicious, Kenz. I’m going to take this into the living room and catch the next game. Coming, Max?”
    “In a minute,” Maxwell said, taking a bite of his pie.
    I started to clear the dishes from the table, and on the second trip, Maxwell stood. I thought he was going to watch the game, but he came to stand directly behind me instead. I could feel the heat seeping from his body and leeching into mine, as I stood there frozen at the sink.
    “Daddy missed you, little girl,” he whispered hotly in my ear. “Did you miss Daddy?”
    I gulped and nodded, which was all I trusted myself to do.
    “I’m going to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours tonight. Do you want that?”
    I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and nodded again.
    “Tell me, little girl. Tell me what you want. I want to hear it come from your sweet lips.”
    “I want you to fuck me, Daddy,” I said in barely a whisper, my body trembling. I loved and hated that he could do that to me.
    “Such a dirty mouth. So deserving of a spanking,” he practically growled as his warm, moist breath rolled over the side of my neck and jaw.
    “What the fuck!” my dad yelled, making us both jump apart. “Maxwell, get in here! You’ve got to see this call.”
    “Be a good girl,” he whispered, leaving me standing there alone, frustrated and beyond horny.
    I knew his words were just words, because there was no way the two of us would be able to sneak away for more than two minutes with my dad in the house. It meant a lot to me that he’d made the effort, though, and I hoped that maybe he would again in the future.
    I put away the leftovers and did the dishes before I joined Maxwell and my dad in the living room for the rest of the current game. When it came to an end, I expected him to leave, but instead, he and my dad started a game of chess. I thought chess was boring to play—and even more boring to watch—so I said goodnight and headed up to bed.
    An hour after I escaped up the stairs, I heard a knock at my door. My heart raced at the thought of Maxwell in my