"You're late," Penelope's brother, Leo, barked as she stumbled into the kitchen, half-asleep.

"So what?" she mumbled, yawning. "It's not like I'm holding up the world."

Their father, Jack, chuckled from the head of the table, his newspaper rustling as he folded it down to look at her. "Your brother's got a point, Pen. Chores start at seven on the dot. We've got a lot to do today."

Penelope's eyes narrowed at the sight of her father's smirk. It was a look she had seen too often lately, a look that made her stomach flip in a way she didn't quite understand. She had always had a complicated relationship with her dad, but it had been growing more intense over the past few months, especially after her mother had passed away.

The kitchen was a mess, a stark contrast to her mother's meticulously kept domain. Dishes piled in the sink, crumbs scattered on the countertop, and a stale odor of day-old coffee hung in the air. Leo was already dressed in his work clothes, ready to tackle the family's farm duties, while their father, Jack, sat comfortably in his chair,ready to start the day.

"I'm not a child, Leo," she snapped back, pouring herself a cup of the bitter brew. "I don't need you to keep tabs on me."

Leo rolled his eyes and turned to their father. "Dad, you need to talk to her. She's been acting out ever since..." He trailed off, glancing at Penelope.

Jack took a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving Penelope. "Ever since your mother passed," he finished for him. "I know it's been hard, sweetheart. But we have to keep this farm running. We can't do it without you."

Penelope felt the weight of her father's words, and the responsibility they carried. She had always felt like the odd one out in her family, the one who didn't quite fit in with the farm life her mother had so loved. But with her mother gone, she had nowhere else to turn. She took a deep breath and nodded. "I know. I'll get dressed and help out."

As the days turned into weeks, Penelope threw herself into the work, trying to outdo herself with every task she completed. The physical exertion helped to numb the ache in her heart, but it didn't ease the growing tension between her and her father. Every time their eyes met, she felt a jolt of something electric, something she couldn't ignore. She tried to convince herself it was just stress, a side effect of their new living arrangement, but deep down she knew it was more.

One hot summer evening, as they were cleaning up after a long day, Penelope could feel her father's eyes on her as she bent over to pick up a tool she had dropped. Her skin prickled with awareness, and she couldn't help but glance back at him. He was staring, his eyes lingering on her curves in a way that was unmistakable. When she looked up, their eyes met, and she saw the hunger in his gaze. For a moment, she froze, unsure of what to do or say.

Leo, seemingly oblivious to the charged atmosphere, called out from the barn, "Dad, I need your help with the tractor!" The spell was broken, and Jack looked away, coughing slightly. "Coming, son," he called back, his voice gruff.

Penelope took a moment to collect herself before following her father and brother outside. The evening sun cast long shadows across the farm, and the air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that look her father had given her. It was a look she had seen before, but never directed at her. Her heart raced, a strange mix of confusion and weirdly......excitement.

Jack was already under the hood of the tractor when she arrived, his broad shoulders tense. Leo was talking a mile a minute about the engine problem, and Penelope couldn't help but notice the way the muscles in her father's arms flexed as he worked. She had never paid much attention to him before, but now she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away. His forearms were dotted with sweat, and she had a sudden, vivid image of them wrapped around her body.

Leo stepped aside, allowing her to get closer. "You know anything about engines, Pen?" he asked, hopeful.

Penelope blinked, forcing herself to focus. "Some," she murmured, trying to ignore the heat that was spreading through her body as she approached her father.

Jack glanced up at her, his eyes lingering on her face before he turned his attention back to the tractor. "Why don't you give it a try?" he suggested gruffly.

Penelope stepped closer, her heart racing as she felt the heat radiating from her father's body. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. As she leaned over to inspect the engine, she could feel his eyes on her, and she was acutely aware of every movement she made. The sound of metal clanging and Leo's instructions faded into the background as she became lost in the moment.

Jack's hand brushed against her arm as he pointed out a part she needed to examine. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but look into his eyes. They were filled with something she had never seen before, a mix of lust and longing that made her knees weak. She swallowed hard, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling to the surface.

"Got it?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

Penelope nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the tractor's idling engine.

Jack took a step closer, the space between them now almost non-existent. "Good girl," he murmured, his breath hot on her neck. He reached out, his hand resting lightly on her hip, and she could feel the tremble in his fingers.

Leo, noticing the tension, cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll go grab some parts from the shed," he mumbled, retreating quickly.

Penelope's breath hitched as her father's hand slid up her body, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of her waist. She knew she should stop him, that this was wrong on so many levels, but she couldn't find the words. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her body betraying her.

Jack's eyes searched hers for permission, and she gave it with a nod so small it was almost imperceptible. His hand moved up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Before he could lean in closer, they heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. Leo was back, a handful of greasy parts in his hands. "Found 'em," he announced, his voice a little too loud.

The spell was broken again, and Penelope stepped back, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and disappointment. Jack cleared his throat and took a step back as well, focusing intently on the tractor. "Good, let's get this fixed," he said gruffly.

Leo looked between the two of them, sensing the tension but not quite understanding the source. "Here, I'll hand them to you," he said, extending the parts to his father.

Their father took them with a nod, his eyes never leaving Penelope's. "Thanks, son," he said, his voice still thick with the emotion of the moment.

The tension didn't dissipate as they returned to the house, the silence between them as palpable as the heat of the setting sun. Penelope slipped into the kitchen, the familiar routine of cooking dinner grounding her as she tried to make sense of her tumultuous emotions. She could feel her father's gaze on her back as she moved around the kitchen, and she couldn't help but wonder if Leo had noticed the shift in their dynamics.

As the aroma of sizzling steaks filled the air, Jack and Leo joined her, each taking a seat at the worn wooden table. They ate in silence, the only sounds being the clink of forks against plates and the occasional sigh from the creaking floorboards. Despite the quiet, the air was thick with unspoken words.

After dinner, they moved to the living room, the only room in the house that had managed to retain a semblance of comfort amidst the farm's ruggedness. The couch was old and faded, but it was where the family had shared countless moments, good and bad. Tonight, however, it was a battleground for Penelope's racing thoughts.

Leo flopped down first, his tired body begging for the softness of the cushions. "Long day," he sighed, stretching his legs out.

Jack followed, sitting at the opposite end, leaving a space in the middle that seemed to call out to Penelope. She hesitated, glancing between her father and brother, before finally settling in the middle, her body tense as a bowstring. The couch dipped slightly with her weight, and she felt the warmth from their bodies on either side of her.

Leo grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. "What do you guys want to watch?" he asked, trying to fill the void of silence that had descended upon them.

Jack didn't respond, his eyes still on Penelope. She shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Whatever you want."

Leo settled on an old movie, something they had all seen a hundred times. The TV's glow was the only light in the room, casting flickering shadows on their faces. As the film played, Penelope felt the weight of their shared secret pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe. She glanced at her brother, his eyes glued to the screen, and then at her father, his gaze flicking to her every few moments.

With a trembling hand, she reached for the threadbare blanket that was folded over the back of the couch. The fabric was rough against her skin, a stark contrast to the smoothness of the shirt she wore. Without a word, she unfolded it and spread it out over all three of them, the act feeling more intimate than she had ever intended.

Leo, lost in the plot of the movie, didn't seem to notice the charged atmosphere that had settled over the room. His eyes remained glued to the TV, his mind clearly elsewhere. Meanwhile, Jack's gaze remained on Penelope, his eyes dark and intense. The tension grew with every passing second, the air thick with unspoken desires and forbidden thoughts.

As the movie played on, Jack's hand slid under the blanket, his fingertips brushing against Penelope's bare leg. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat, but didn't pull away. Instead, she held her breath, watching the screen with feigned interest while her mind raced. This couldn't be happening. Her father's hand was on her skin, and she didn't know how to feel about it.

But she liked it.

Penelope's body responded in ways she didn't expect, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins that made her want to lean into her father's touch rather than pull away. His hand continued to glide along her thigh, inching closer to the hem of her shorts. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the fabric, sending waves of heat pooling in her core. She was surprised to find she was biting her lower lip, a silent invitation for him to continue.

Jack grew bolder, his hand moving with purposeful strokes. She spread her legs slightly, giving him better access, the anticipation making her heart hammer in her chest. Leo was just a few feet away, engrossed in the movie, oblivious to the illicit dance happening under the guise of the old blanket. The risk was thrilling, heightening every sensation.

Jack's thumb grazed the fabric covering her mound, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She stifled a gasp, her eyes darting to Leo before returning to the TV, her chest heaving with every shallow breath she took.

Penelope's decision to part her thighs was silent but significant, a gesture that spoke louder than any words could. It was an invitation and a challenge all at once, a silent question to her father that hung in the air as heavily as the humidity outside. Would he dare to cross that line? Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched him, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand, which had been tentatively exploring the curve of her thigh, grew bolder. His calloused thumb traced the edge of her shorts, brushing against the damp fabric that clung to her heated flesh.

Her breath hitched as Jack's thumb slid under the elastic, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to the softness of hers. He found the slickness of her arousal and began to rub slow, deliberate circles around her clit. She bit back a whimper, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and excitement. This was wrong, so very wrong, and yet she couldn't bring herself to stop him. Her body was responding to his touch in ways that were unmistakable, betraying her every attempt at maintaining the facade of innocence.

Leo, still absorbed in the movie, was blissfully unaware of the incestuous play happening beside him. The room was filled with the sound of the TV and their muffled breaths, the occasional clank of the film's soundtrack punctuating the silence like a heartbeat.

Jack's hand grew more insistent, his strokes becoming firmer, more urgent. Penelope's body responded in kind, her hips rocking slightly against his hand. She could feel the wetness spreading, her body's betrayal laid bare under the guise of the blanket. The tension grew, each stroke of his thumb bringing her closer to the precipice of climax.

And then, like a thunderclap in the quiet room, Leo's hand settled on her shoulder, his fingers tracing a line down to her chest. Penelope's eyes flew to his, wide with shock, but his gaze remained on the screen, his touch feather-light and deceptively casual. It was as if he hadn't noticed the intimate dance happening between her and their father. Or perhaps he had and was choosing to ignore it.

Her breath grew shallower as Leo's hand moved under the blanket, his thumb grazing the swell of her breast. The fabric of her shirt was thin, and she could feel the heat of his skin through it. His touch was tentative at first, as if he were testing her reaction. But as she made no move to push him away, he grew more confident. His palm cupped her fully, the pressure increasing as he squeezed gently.