Chapter Four #2
I press into Macie. The last place I want to be but if her daughter touches me right now, I’m going to fuck her. I’m going to wrestle her to the carpet right at their feet and rail her just like she begged for in the video.
But my attempt at restraint has Isla glancing at me. Her big eyes hold hurt that cuts me, but I can’t explain myself.
I can’t tell her how badly I want to drag her to the edge of the sofa, throw her knees over my shoulders and taste her pussy straight from the source. What little I got from Dom’s mouth hadn’t been enough.
“That’s a cute little outfit,” Jacob remarks, interrupting my thoughts. “Like one of those adult cheerleaders.”
I abhor the way he’s eyeing her chest. The way he’s seated low like he’s trying to catch a glimpse of my… her pussy. I never liked the man, but this behavior has my fingers curling into my palms.
“Is that something appropriate to say about your brother’s daughter?” I counter sharply.
My uncle blinks, his grin melting off his puckered face. “I didn’t tell her to dress like a fluffer.”
My fury is interrupted by Macie falling into the conversation with a hurried change of topic. She plunges into an excited babble about fluffy pillows she’d seen at the home décor shop. I vaguely realize she has no idea what a fluffer is or she’s so out of touch that such behavior is acceptable.
Regardless, I’m not accepting it.
I’m already pissed off. My temper is at a simmer and I’m fully prepared to toss this fucker out on his ass for disrespecting Isla.
“I think you owe Isla an apology,” I cut Macie off mid chatter. “That is a disgusting way to talk about your niece.”
“Nick, it’s okay,” Isla whispers, but I stay locked in with the man meeting my glower with his own.
“It’s not,” I correct her. “He’s a grown man. There’s no excuse for him to be looking at you like that.”
“Listen here, boy—”
I don’t get to hear whatever he’s about to say when Dom steps into the room. I don’t know how much he’s heard, but judging from the thunderstorm darkening his eyes, he’s heard enough that this is about to get out of hand.
“Go on. We’re listening,” he answers for me, powerful body moving to take the armrest at Isla’s shoulder. “Explain why we shouldn’t take this outside.”
“Oh my, this really isn’t necessary,” Macie titters nervously, casting glances between Jacob and Dom. “Isla is fine. Aren’t you, Isla?”
Dom isn’t listening. “What’s it going to be, Jake? Apologize or we can talk about this in private.”
Jacob has the curdled expression of someone being forced to guzzle liquid cow shit.
“You’re both making a big deal over nothing,” he counters. “I’m just saying it like everyone sees it. You dress like a whore—”
Dom gets to him before I can. I’m already on my feet, but Dom has him by the back of the collar. Jacob barely has a chance to cry out when he’s being forcibly dragged from his chair and marched to the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he’s bellowing. “Walker!”
I don’t know where my dad is, but Dom has Jacob in the hall. Macie is chasing after them, making a world of noise.
Then it’s just me and the demon at my shoulder.
“Nicolas.” Isla is peering up at me, big eyes pleading.
My attention pivots down to her mouth. To the soft shape of it. It’s drawn in a pout that makes my stomach ache to taste it. To have her lips part obediently beneath mine while I twist the thin straps of her top around my hand and…
“You’re not a whore,” I murmur instead, forcing my eyes up to hers. “You’re not his to look at.”
The smooth column of her throat bobs and I’m drawn to the tiny pulse begging to be marked by my teeth.
“Nicolas, I did something,” she whispers so low, I really have to focus to hear.
“I know.” I almost smirk at her look of surprise. “I know what you did.” My body instinctively turns to fully face her. To cage her. “What you let him do.”
Color sweeps up into her cheeks, but she’s not running. She’s not trying to get away. Like a caught rabbit, she stares up at me with a pleading look that makes my cock hard.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean…”
Drawn to the helplessness of her, the complete control of her I have in this moment, I get closer. I move deeper into her space. I nudge her back into the armrest Dom had claimed.
“Didn’t mean to jerk my boyfriend’s cum into your pussy?”
She’s trembling. A beautiful weakness that makes me want to strap her down and edge her until she can’t breathe.
I want to tie her legs open and lick her cunt until I clean every drop of Dom’s cum from her.
I’ve never been one for control and restraints, but the way her tits are heaving against the flimsy neckline, the way there is nothing between my hand and her pussy, all I want is to immobilize her. I want her at my mercy while I use her.
“I didn’t,” she chokes out.
I draw in a slow, calming breath that is thick with the scent of her pussy and Dom.
“Was it a lot?” I taunt, fed by the restless shifting of her hips against the armrest. The way she’s parted like she’s hoping I’ll check. “Are you leaking into your panties right now?”
“Yes.”
Her lashes drop with her confession. She catches her bottom lip like she hadn’t meant to let that slip.
Something about her straddling the cushion in her tiny outfit, dripping my boyfriend’s jizz snaps something in me. Something I’ve fought for years to contain. To bottle down.
The fact that the armrest is the perfect level for when I close my fingers in her damp strands and force my hips between her thighs makes this feel right. Justified. When I yank her head back and she moans... moans like such a good little whore I nearly cum in my pants and my ass squeezes the plug.
I’m aware of every jagged breath tearing from my own chest when I grind my cock into her heat and growl into her ear, “I fucked him while I watched you spread your tight cunt for him. I took his ass raw listening to you beg Daddy to breed you.”
Isla sobs in my ear. Her hips rise to meet mine. Her knees are wide around my hips in an invitation that I accept in my red haze of fury and madness.
“He’s my Daddy,” I hiss into her ear, hips slamming harder, rocking the sofa. My channel, a tight fist around the plug. “Mine.”
My free hand goes off script and shoves between us. It rips beneath her soaked underwear and finds her filthy mess. Her leaking channel and tight hole.
I drive in.
“Nicolas!”
“Shut up,” I snarl into her ear. “Open your fucking legs.”
She does, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need to punish her for touching what’s mine. For making me like it. Want it. For making me break my own fucking rule.
I pull out, ignore her whine by dragging her off. I shove her around. Bend her over the cushion. Her flimsy skirt is tossed over her back and I can’t breathe.
White noise screams between my ears as I stare at her full, firm ass parted by a thin, useless piece of string in bright, devil red. It taunts me. Begs me to bunch my fingers around and snap it off her soaked cunt.
Isla cries out and I smack her right cheek. Hard. So fucking hard my cock weeps when she howls and flails, and a perfect print of my hand blooms on her soft skin.
“I said shut up, Isla.” I’m practically wheezing like I just ran a marathon.
My hands are shaking as I fist her hair and wrench her head back.
Her filthy, dripping panties get shoved into her mouth.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I pant into her ear while I force my fingers back in her hole.
“Can’t convince people you’re not a dirty whore when you’re bent over letting me finger bang your pussy. ”
She makes a choked sound of such pleasure I nearly forget she’s not supposed to be enjoying this.
But she’s pulsing and writhing against my hand.
Her slit is pulling me deeper. She pushes up onto her elbows, resting her mound on the textured cushion and I realize her game when she rocks back into my hand.
It’s hard not to think I’ll never look at this couch again without thinking of this moment. Of Isla spread wide, humping the armrest while I force a third finger inside her.
She takes it with a muffled whine.
And, God, she feels so good. So hot and wet.
I squeeze my cock through my pants to calm the pain but she’s bucking and making those sounds.
My dick is out before I can fathom how. The head replaces my fingers and Isla cries with pleasure and fucks the sofa harder while I grab her hips and let her ride my head.
I won’t cum in her, I tell myself. It’s fine if I don’t fill her. I just want to feel her sucking my head. Want to feel how soaked she is on my dick.
“Nick!”
I’m too late to catch the signs when she cums. I’m caught in the erratic bouncing of her hips and can’t stop when my body instinctively releases with her.
“Fuck!”
Shit.
It’s so much. Thick ropes drowning her in my seed. It spills past the ring I’m still corking and stains Macie’s couch. It oozes out with my withdrawal. It puddles in a white glob I have to resist scooping up and putting back inside her.
Does this count as fucking? Did I just fuck Isla? I might not have gone the whole way, but I’m inside her. Spilling out of her.
Panting, I shove my satisfied cock back into my pants and reach for her. Without the red haze of madness blinding me, I’m less certain about what I’ve done.
Isla’s soft, sweet face peers up at me with eyes so trusting it cuts to my soul. A strip of red dangles from between her lips and I nearly groan.
Without looking away, I hook the cloth and free her panties. They’re tucked into my pocket for later.
Neither of us says a word.
We don’t have to when the figure in the door speaks.
“I was gone for two minutes.”