Carissa shot her a twisted face, "Well it better be a promposal that's so important."
Like the non-confrontational girl that she was, Jesse just rolled her eyes in response.
I knew she hated every word that came out of Carissa's mouth in regards to her boyfriend. Jesse's world was meant to be full of kind words, compassion and bliss.
A divine alchemy that appeared heavenly.
So instead of feeding fuel to the present fire that took the form of my daughter, Jesse chose to keep quiet and settled to submission.
"I'm serious," Carissa snapped back harshly. Her slender hand decorated with amethyst colored acrylics reached out to grab the iced cup of coffee that was watered down from the melted ice.
Something they always did since they started high school together: go to the local café that was near the school. It was close and they also got discounts for being students.
However the two of them couldn't be more different. Down to their personalities to the types of drinks they favored.
Whereas Carissa got her fix and high energy from a cup of coffee, Jesse preferred teas. Chamomile, ginger and lemon drinks without caffeine in them. Carissa liked the energy that coffee brung to her, addicted to the anxious and bouncy effects it promises after drinking it. Jesse disliked it. She didn't want the headaches and nausea that came with it. She wanted the peace, calm and soothings.
So she vowed to only ever drink hot teas, never cold, whenever they went to any café for that matter.
There was a small splash sound that the cup of caffeinated liquid she was reaching out for made when it spilt. It spread across the white marble and slowly dripped onto Carissa's expensive pair of white jeans.
"Shit," She gasped and jumped up.
And despite my daughter's obvious state of momentary distress, I had to crack a boyish smile at the loud laugh that escaped Jesse's plump crimson lips and clashes with Carissa's expressive language.
"Fuck off, Jesse."
My smile dropped then, the grumpy scowl I normal wore all day long returning to my face. "Don't talk to your friends that way," I gave her a hard look. "It's rude, Carissa. I raised you better than that."
Perhaps I didn't really care about the swearing and I just didn't like the way she speaking to Jesse. My sweet girl didn't deserve to spoken to like so. If it was up to me, she would only hear praises and classical sounds of poetry.
"Well you barely raised me at all," Was mumbled bitterly.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing," She snapped back. "It was nothing. It's not like she'll take it to the heart. If she did then she should probably grow up and stop being so sensitive. Whatever, I'm taking a shower because my legs are sticky now." Scrunching her nose up in disgust, Carissa waddled her way out of the dining room that was connected to where I was in the kitchen and shuffled upstairs to the bathroom with a slam to the door.
She was pissed to say the least.
But if anyone was more pissed than her, it was me.
Carissa had the audacity to speak so negatively about her best friend. The best friend that did nothing to her, but let out a simple laugh at a small inconvenience.
I would defend Jesse until I took my last breath, even if she was in the wrong. Her being in the wrong for anything was a very small chance, but even if she happened to be in a position where she was, I would still protect her. So to hear my own daughter attack her with vicious words and digs at Jesse's kindhearted personality made my blood boil.
She was kind, but she was not weak.
Jesse stood up after hearing the door slam shut, after standing their quite awkwardly during our mishap. "Well, I'm going to head out," She announced while collecting the old beaten textbooks with her thick black hair falling over the side of her face. "See you later, Mr. Marcelo."
"I'm sorry about that," I grumbled, running my hands through my hair. "Don't mind anything she said about you. You know she doesn't mean any of it. You okay?"
"Me? oh, I'm fine," She shrugged. "Used to it actually."
"Used to it?"
Jesse sent me a tiny smile in, what I'd assume, is her trying to defend her friend and dismiss the situation. "She lashes out at me sometimes over the smallest things. I'm perfectly fine."
That was the thing that infuriated me about her. She was so compliant with someone that did anything bad to her. If someone were to push her, she'd be the one to apologize before the other person could do anything.
My tender babygirl.
I didn't bother to check on Carissa. She'll get over it.
"Goodbye, Mr. Marcelo," She let out meekly.
Despite the infuriation that I felt for my own daughter, I let out a friendly chuckle. "I've known you for years, Jesse. No need for formalities."
Despite how tempting Mr. Marcelo sounded seeping through her honey-sweet lips, we'll save that for other activities that involved her spread out on the bed for me while she begged.
She laughed and shot me one of her beautiful smiles that were always adorning her face, "See you later, Alessandro."
God, it was like she wanted me to cum on the spot in my own pants. My name rolled off her tongue perfectly. It was like velvet and honey. Sweet and soft, yet so desirably sexy. I wondered how sweet it would sound when she screamed it as I pounded deeply into her warm, wet pussy.
"You're not walking home are you?" I questioned. I didn't want her to be alone in the dark. Despite the high security and cameras around our gated community, she wasn't guaranteed safety.
She bit her lip and shook her head at me, "My car is just outside, Mr. Marcelo."
Lies.
My heart pained at the fact that she would let a lie escape her mouth and think that I would actually believe it. Did she not trust me? I wanted her to trust me. I wouldn't hurt her unless it was absolutely necessary.
"I don't recall it being in the driveway when I came home," I shook my head almost disapprovingly at her. "And it's Alessandro, Jesse."
She pressed her pink glossy lips together. Her sun kissed cheeks burning into a scarlet shade.
"Well I cant necessarily ask my original ride to take me back home considering she's not very fond of me at the moment," She muttered sheepishly; her small delicate hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "Sorry."
Ignoring her first statement, I carried myself out of the kitchen and into the dining room. It was a short walk, but my legs were tense and I could no longer think straight. Long was forgotten the sound of running water upstairs.
"Say it," I demanded in a dominant voice. The same dominant voice that had been dying to be used on her, and the same dominant voice that I would use on her when I demanded her to take more of my lengthy cock in her slippery mouth until she gagged.
Jesse stood mindlessly next to the countertops, thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion and lips parted.
I had forgotten about whatever crap I was making and here I stood in front of her, inches—no centimeters apart.
I lifted my left hand up halfway to reach for her jaw before deciding against it and clenched my hand into a fist. "Please," I took a deep breath inwards and screwed my eyes tightly shut, jaw hardened. "Just say it."
As she breathed out, I could feel her cool minty breath fanning across my chest because of the height difference. "I'm sorry, Alessandro."
It came out nearly above a whisper, and it lingered in the tension filled air. Sitting there as I contemplated on what had just taken over me. It wasn't supposed to come out yet, but in the spur of the moment and the infuriation I felt from knowing my daughter talked bad about her, I couldn't control it from coming out.
Although, I was surprised I had been able to keep it in me for this many years and it hasn't came out before.
I'm just glad the menacing part of me hasn't come out yet. The treacherous, vicious, desperate part. The controlling part that would scare my lovely girl away. The part that my ex-wife has tried to get me help for.
It was all bullshit, though. I'm fine and the "dangerous" part was nothing serious.
I am not in denial. I am not in denial. I am not in denial.
Your ex-wife was a stupid bitch who thought you were crazy and didn't understand that you loved Jesse, not her.
The amount of viridity this girl had was overbearing.
So we stood there for what seemed like hours, but I was sure it was only a few seconds. The distant sound of water pouring out of the shower head coming from the bathroom my daughter was in. Yet, here I was. With her best friend and my best friend's daughter. Marcos would do more than just killing me.
His best friend fantasizing about his baby girl. Fantasizing was an understatement. But eventually I would do more than just fantasize for she was my muse and we would be together and I could do whatever I dreamed of with her.
But if he didn't accept us being together I would probably have to do something about it. If killing him was my only option, so be it. I was living in a world of black and white before she came into my life. Everything was boring. My life had meaning, or goals. Jesse, that girl is my meaning. She is my everything.
I lived the life of a single dad that worked long hours as an accountant. The same routine, the same cycle.
But this cycle was something I could get used to. I don't think I would ever become jaded from my endless attempts.
I wanted to fall into a bed of roses with her. Perhaps a bed of pink peonies as they were her favorite flower. She hated roses because of the relevancy to her last name. I could hear her claims that she would be surrounded by a rose her whole life, so why want something that she already had?
I could only hope she would go after me like I was going after her.
I ran my hand over my eyes. My eyes burning just like my heart. And the stupid fucking strain in my pants. "Why don't I take you home? It's not safe walking alone in the dark."
Before she could make any objections, I grabbed my keys and walked out the door, leaving it open behind me.
When she jumped in the passenger seat, I could tell she was astounded and confused. It was cute.
I started the car and waited to hear the faint click of her seatbelt, but she only gazed out the tinted window. Her body turned away from me.
Since she clearly wasn't making any moves soon, I reached across the console, moved her hair and buckled her. She shivered a bit when my hand lingered across her prominent collarbone and her skin raised with goosebumps.
"Better safe than sorry," I whispered keeping my eyes on her's. My body was still across the console.
The car ride was quiet, though I wasn't sure what I had expected. Jesse De Rose was normally a quiet girl with the exception of being around her family and close friends. But why wasn't I an exception? I've practically been around her forever. Did I make her uncomfortable? I couldn't have, she made no objections and it was barely anything.
I pulled up to her driveway, putting the car in park. The curtains were open and I caught a glimpse of Marcos walking with his cellphone up to his ear, probably talking to someone about work.
I wasn't worried about him seeing me. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for me to give Jesse a ride home.
"Thanks for the ride home, Mr. Mar–sorry. Alessandro," Jesse spoke feebly and got out of the car.
I watched as she made her way inside, taking long strides, midnight hair swaying behind her as she went. My nostrils were invaded with the scent of her. The car smelling sweet like the scent of cherries and peaches. Opulent and floral perfume and fruity shampoo. I'd have to cherish it smelling like her for as long as I could, even if it meant never cracking a window open.
If this was what heaven smelt like, then perhaps I'd need to start believing in some kind of God.
I clenched my hands around the steering wheel, eyeballing the spot she had just been sitting in. Not only did she leave her scent in my car, but her bag.
I knew it was wrong of me to look through her stuff, but when I saw the glimpse of book pages peeking out, curiosity got the best of me.
So I pulled the book out and turned it around in my abnormally large hands. It was a shock to find the infamous cover of a certain blasphemous and heretical book. The one with the pink lips of a girl halfway cutoff of the page.
And the words 'Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov' screamed at me because maybe, after all, she did want to experience what it was like to be with an older man.