Chapter 5
Five
Sebastian
Everything’s perfect.
It’s great.
I couldn’t be happier.
Ella’s here. She’s curled up against my shoulder, her lips slightly parted while she sleeps, her eyelids fluttering as she dreams. On the other side of her, Kingston’s asleep, his breathing slow and even.
We spanked our little girl, denied her orgasms for two full hours, teasing, licking, kissing, sucking. She was begging at the end. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she promised to be good for us, always.
And then we’d taken turns fucking her, giving her all the orgasms we had previously been dangling out of her reach.
“I’ve never come so many times in one night,” she whispered as she nestled against me for sleep.
I brush my thumb over her temple, moving hair back from her cheek. She’s so fucking perfect for us, it makes my chest hurt.
I can’t make myself stay in bed, though. Carefully, I ease myself out from underneath Ella. She gives a cute little moan and reaches for me, so I gently turn her over to face Kingston. She grips his arm and snuggles close to him.
She’s so cute it should be illegal.
I tear my gaze away and find my jeans and boxer briefs. I pull on the boxers, then fish my phone from my jeans pocket.
Trina has sent me four texts in the last day, and called twice.
I haven’t responded. What do I say? The songs I’ve been working on are good, but not good enough.
The ones that I like most are about Ella, and I’m not interested in sharing her with the world.
Not yet. Maybe not ever. I’ll let that be her decision.
I scroll through Trina’s messages. She wants updates. She wants samples. She wants to see the lyrics, hear the chords. She wants to know if the song is a ballad or if it’s fast and poppy.
I just want some fucking peace.
I keep a guitar in one of King’s guest room closets, so I retrieve it and pull it out of its case.
It’s out of tune because I haven’t played it in several weeks, but I’m in no rush.
I sit on the floor at the foot of the guest bed and turn the pins, strumming and correcting until I get the best possible sound.
Moonlight filters through the large window, bathing the room in a silvery blue glow.
I strum a few chords, hum the beginnings of a melody as I go.
Sometimes a tune will just pop into my head, fully formed.
Other times, I have to work at it like a sculptor chipping away at a block of stone to reveal the statue within.
This song is more like a meandering ride down a slow river, leisurely, melodic. I reach the end of what might become the chorus and play it a second time, committing it to memory. And then again, and once more, adjusting a couple of chords for better sound.
My eyes don’t want to stay open. I should get back in bed, maybe wake Ella with my face between her legs, see if I can get her off without waking Kingston.
“Your song is beautiful,” her voice is throaty and low, blending with the dim light of the room.
I look up to see her standing in the bedroom doorway, a throw blanket wrapped around her naked body.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Play it again for me?”
“Sure, princess.” I play the song again, humming the melody, adding words occasionally. I build the lyrics I wrote last night into the song, ending with, “But baby, the fight was fixed.”
When I finish, Ella walks over and sits down on the floor in front of me.
“I have a question,” she says.
Oh, fuck. Here it comes. Why did I leave music? Why did I walk away from that successful career? I’ll give her the answer—or at least the alcoholism part of it—and she could sell it to the tabloids for a good sum of money, probably.
In a fatigued voice, I say, “What do you want to know?”
I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her why I left. And I’ll just pray she doesn’t betray me.
Leaning forward, she kisses my fingers, which are resting on the strings and frets of the guitar. “What drew you to music?”
Surprised, I don’t know how to answer at first. All anyone has wanted to know for the past seven years is why I left.
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal,” she says.
“You can know whatever you want to know,” I say.
Except for the full, unvarnished truth of why I left. Nobody except King and Trina know about that. If Ella knew the full story, she’d leave.
Clearing my throat and shoving those thoughts aside, I say, “When my mom divorced my dad, she didn’t try for custody or anything.
She left me behind, but she also left a guitar.
Dad threw out most of her stuff, but I kept hoping she would come back for the guitar.
If I kept it, I reasoned, she would come home.
An eight-year-old’s logic, right? Eventually I started playing the stupid thing, thinking maybe she wouldn’t come back for the guitar, but she’d come back if I was famous. ”
Ella leans forward and kisses my hands again. I turn one over and cup her cheek, then stroke my fingers through her curls.
“It wasn’t the purest reason to turn to music,” I say, “but I fell in love with it. Eventually, I didn’t care if my mom came back for me or not.”
“Did she ever?” Ella asks.
“She did, sort of. Many years later, after I had a break-out hit. I was on tour, and I got a phone call through the record label.” I snort, remembering how surreal the whole experience was.
“I chatted with her for a minute, asked how she was. Showed her the consideration she never gave me as a kid. Then I asked why she was calling. She said there was no reason, really. She just wanted to know if I was happy.”
“Were you?” Ella asks.
I shrug, considering. “Then? No. But now? Yes.”
“Good.” She leans back on her arms and tilts her head. “Play it one more time?”
“Sure, princess.” I play the song. It’s definitely a work-in-progress, but Ella just closes her eyes and listens. When I’m finished, I ask, “Do you work tomorrow night?”
“Nope.”
“Good. We’re taking you on a date.”
She nods and smiles. “Yeah. Okay.”
The blanket shifts and I catch a glimpse of her cleavage. Setting the guitar aside, I say, “Let me help you relax so you can go back to sleep.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, come sit on Daddy’s lap.” As she starts to move, I remember I don’t have a condom with me. “Back to bed, first,” I say, taking her hand. “And be quiet—we don’t want to wake up King.”
She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “What’s that about? He didn’t want to wake you up last time.”
I chuckle. “It’s a stupid game we have. I don’t know why we do it, or why it started.”
Her smile is genuine, but I see more behind her eyes—she doesn’t love that we’ve done this with other women.
I squeeze her hand in mine and lead her to the bed.
There, I remove my boxers and sit, then I grab a condom from the nightstand.
I slide it over my cock, watching Ella as I do it.
Behind me, sprawled on the mattress, is King.
I spare him a glance before turning back to Ella.
“Sit on Daddy’s cock,” I whisper. “And do it slow and careful. We can’t shake the bed or King’ll wake up.”
“Then how are we—”
“Shh,” I say. “I’ll take care of you. I always do, don’t I?”
She nods.
I slide the blanket from her shoulders, revealing her gorgeous body. My dick twitches in excitement, but first, “Are you wet enough for me, princess?”
She reaches between her legs and slides her finger over her folds, then nods. “Yes, Daddy,” she whispers.
I grab her wrist and bring her finger to my mouth, tasting her. “Up you go, princess.”
She climbs up, a knee on the edge of the mattress on either side of my legs. I guide my cock toward her pussy and groan in pleasure as she begins to sink down onto me. Fuck, she’s so fucking hot and wet and tight.
When she starts to rise up, I hold her in place. “Slow,” I murmur, kissing her ear and giving it a little bite.
She gasps and her pussy clenches me tighter.
I move my hips slowly, grinding against her, trying to rub against her clit.
Something’s working, because she moans softly and tightens her legs as if trying to hold me in place.
I reach between us and palm one of her breasts, tweaking the nipple between my thumb and forefinger, watching her eyes flutter shut in pleasure.
“Look at me, princess,” I whisper. “Look at me and know your daddy is fucking you just the way you like.”
“Daddyyyy,” she moans.
The bed moves slightly, and I laugh, because it means King woke up. I look over my shoulder at him as he crawls toward us and gets up next to me, kneeling so his cock is level with Ella’s mouth.
“Suck him, princess,” I tell her. “You woke him up, now you have to pay the price.”
She doesn’t look like it’s any real price or punishment as she licks her lips and smiles up at Kingston.
My balls tighten as pleasure courses through me. I’m going to come soon, and watching my friend’s dick disappear between Ella’s lips is getting me there faster.
There’s no reason to hold back now that King’s awake, so I fuck her harder, lifting her by the hips.
Her breasts bounce with every stroke. Kingston growls and holds Ella’s curls in his fist, controlling her head.
The room is quiet except for our labored breaths, Ella’s occasional moan, and the slapping sounds of fierce fucking.
“Touch your tits for me, princess,” I say, watching with satisfaction as she begins playing with her nipples.
“So fucking hot, little girl,” Kingston says to her.
I’m going to blow my load. I can’t hold back. “Come, Ella,” I say. “Come for your daddies, right fucking now.”
She moans around Kingston’s cock, her legs going tight on either side of mine and her back arching, tits thrust forward. I come at the same time, and Kingston comes a second later with a low grunt.
I pull Ella toward me, telling her what a good girl she is, how I never want to let her go, not ever.
And this time, when I tuck her against my side, with Kingston pressed against her other side, I’m able to fall asleep, as well.
Kingston