AUTHOR: T. A. BEAU

TITLE: Riding Dad After A Wine Tasting Gets Steamy and Heated

SUBTITLE: A Dad/Daughter Incest Erotica Short Story.

Copyright © 2024 T. A. BEAU

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.

WORD COUNT: 3600 words

I step into the tasting room, the door clicking softly behind me as it shuts out the soft hum of the other rooms in the winery. The walls are lined with bottles, some familiar, others I’ve never seen before. A faint clink of glassware echoes in the background, harmonizing with the soft jazz drifting from the speakers in the corner. A smirk graces my lips when I catch sight of him. His presence fills the space with the same ease as it always does.

Jack Devine, my father, is tall, strong, and incredibly handsome in his appearance. My eyes flicker to the tie loose around his neck, and I grin. I’ve spent my whole life watching him run Devine Wines, learning from him about his techniques and business strategies. Today, though, is different. Today, he’s going to tell me a secret.

I close the door behind me and cross the room, settling into the chair he gestured toward. His lips tilt into a small smirk, and his eyes quickly flit over my dress.

“You look lovely,” he comments, and I beam, adjusting my cleavage, not missing the quick glance. I’m wearing a red silk dress that hugs my body in all the right places and makes my boobs look nice.

“Don’t I?” I reply smugly.

He shakes his head and laughs to himself. Dad uncorks the bottle of wine, sitting it on the table with practiced ease. The soft pop of the cork fills the air, and the sound resonates in the room. I watch his skillful hands intently. He pours a splash of deep ruby liquid into my glass, swirling the wine slightly before settling into the bowl.

“Take a sip,” he says, his voice low, steady.

I lift the glass to my lips, the delicate weight of the crystal in my hand. The wine is warm and inviting, and I inhale its rich scent before allowing it to slip onto my tongue. I do this while maintaining eye contact with him, and he does the same, his eyes following my throat with each gulp.

The taste is sweet, almost smooth, yet with a sharp tang that leaves my tastebuds wanting more.

“You like it, huh?” Dad murmurs, his eyes on me, watching carefully as I process the taste.

“It’s nice, but what’s so special about this one that’s different from the others?” I ask, leaning in.

“Nothing. This is just like the others. It’s just a variation on a theme.”

“Pray, do tell more,” I tease, holding my head on my palm. He leans in a little closer, licking his lips briefly. His presence fills the space between us, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, close enough to touch.

“There’s a secret to this wine,” he says, his voice taking on a playful note. He’s teasing me now, I can tell.

I raise an eyebrow, joining him in his teasing. “So you’ve said,” I drawl. “What’s the secret?” I ask my tone light but with a genuine curiosity beneath it.

“The secret,” he says, “is that there is no secret.”

I blink, caught off guard. No secret? That’s not what I expected.

“Excuse me?” I ask, unable to hide my confusion.

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm. He taps my chin with his finger. “There’s no secret to great wine, Suki. Not in the way you think. It’s not magic or hidden knowledge that makes the difference. It’s not some ancient, mystical technique that no one else knows. The allure-what people crave in a wine-it’s all psychological. They want to believe there’s something they don’t know, some trick or formula that gives them an edge. They want the mystery.”

“Hm, is that so?” I say. I’m not really interested in all that. Instead, I take the time to ogle his muscles that are filling out his suit.

He chuckles. “But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Suki?”

My eyes slowly meet his. I smile. “What do you mean by that, father?” My lips press together in a pout as I innocently flutter my eyes up at him.

“I don’t know. What do you think I mean by that?” He flips it back to me, and I see his orbs darkening.

“I think you think that I want something from you,” my voice comes out in a seductive whisper as my fingers trace the table in circular patterns. I lean closer to him now, just enough for our knees to touch.

“Oh really?” he asks, acting coy.

“And I think that you can’t handle all that I have to offer,” I tell him, and that’s enough for me to see the reaction I want. His hand twitches briefly, and I can see the slightest tic in his jaw. Bingo.

“And what makes you think that?” he asks.

I shrug nonchalantly, hiding my smile. “No reason, really. I just don’t think you can. Is there a problem with that?”

His eyes roam over my body with such an intensity that it’s like he’s stripping me with his gaze alone, leaving me naked. I fight back a shudder. “You have no idea what I can do,” his voice is a low growl that does something to my body, so much so that I have to cross my legs to relieve the ache.

I swallow, raising my drink. “Hm,” I take a quick sip of the wine, and a little bit of the sweet liquid dribbles down the corner of my lip. Before I can lick it off, he gets up abruptly, and his face is suddenly close to mine. His tongue darts out from the corner of my eye as he licks the little dribble of red wine off my cheek, catching it and licking a long, wet stripe from my chin to my neck.

I bare my neck slightly, closing my eyes at the sensation. But it’s over before it even begins.

He sits back down, wiping his lip with his thumb. “We don’t want this expensive wine to go to waste now do we?” he says, and I can see his eyes burning with pure lust, mirroring mine.

I nod, biting my lip. “Of course. But I think you missed a spot, Dad.”

I grab the bottle and begin pouring the wine all over the side of my neck, my eyes never leaving his. The cool, sticky liquid drips everywhere, all over my skin, and soaks into my dress. I would feel uncomfortable any other day if not for the burning hunger in my gut, heating my body up.

And it’s even more worth it when I see the arousal exploding in his expression, his jaw taut as a bow, his body strung tight, like he’s physically and mentally stopping himself from tossing me over and fucking the living shit out of me.

I place the bottle down with a smug smile. “Now, what are we going to do about this mess, Daddy?” I drawl out the words.

He bites his lip hard, grinning wildly. “It’s my fault for raising a brat.”

My eyes crinkle. “I learn from the best.”

“C’mere.” He pulls me closer to him, mouth latching down on my nipple, sucking the hardened bud through the flimsy material of my dress. I gasp, looking down at his ministrations, sucking at my nipples like he’d die if he didn’t do it. Thanks to the wine, my dress sticks to my body like a second skin, practically molded to me, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Fuck yes,” I whisper on a moan. He squeezes my breasts with his two big, firm hands, kneading at the soft flesh and playing with it. The heat I feel and the sudden rush of arousal makes me dizzy.

I push him away, and he looks up at me, caging me like he’s ready to pounce on me at any moment. I hurriedly strip off my dress and allow it to pool down to my feet, leaving me completely bare.

He stares at me shamelessly, his eyes leaving a hot trail in its wake. Without looking away from him, I balance back against the table, lying down and spreading my legs for him.

“No underwear?” he asks, rubbing my thigh with his rough palm.

I raise a brow. “Is that a complaint?”

He laughs, the sound rich and pleasing. “Of course not.”

I grab the bottle again and pour it all over my naked torso and let it drip down my pussy, making a mess of myself. “Won’t you help me clean this all up, Daddy?”

My breath catches in my throat when he spreads my thighs wide apart, burying his face in between my legs without another word. He licks at my sticky thighs, teasing me with kitten licks and bites as he skirts around my pussy.

He does it for a solid minute before I squirm under him, pouting. “Come on,” I whine.

“What is it, darling?” he asks innocently, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“You know what.”

“You’re going to have to use your words,” he retorts with a stupidly handsome smirk.

“I want your mouth. I want you to lick my pussy, please,” I beg, my eyebrows raised, pleading.