Chapter 5
With Amelia’s things officially moved into the master bedroom, the house felt different — heavier with new reality.
I went to my home office to catch up on some work emails, but Amelia didn’t leave my side.
She followed me in wearing nothing but my oversized shirt again, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs.
She curled up on the big leather couch across from my desk at first, reading on her tablet. But it didn’t take long for her to get restless. She wandered over, knelt beside my chair, and rested her head on my thigh like an affectionate pet. Her hand idly stroked my leg, inching higher each time.
“Daddy?” she said softly after a while, looking up at me with those big, needy eyes. “I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking about how full you made me earlier… and how much more I want.”
I pushed my chair back and pulled her into my lap, the shirt riding all the way up. My hand slipped between her legs and found her soaked again. “You really are turning into my perfect little breeding slut, aren’t you?”
She nodded eagerly and ground herself against my growing cock. “I like being useful to you. Let me help while you work.”
I freed myself and she sank down onto me right there in the office chair, facing away from the desk so I could still reach my keyboard.
Her pussy was warm and creamy from all the loads I’d already given her.
She rode me slowly at first, trying to be quiet, but soft little moans kept escaping as she worked herself on my cock.
I typed one-handed while the other squeezed her tits through the shirt, reminding her again how desperate I was to see them swollen with milk. “Keep bouncing, baby. Milk my cock while I finish these emails.”
Amelia whimpered and picked up the pace, her ass jiggling against me.
The wet sounds of her riding me filled the office.
I eventually gave up on work, gripping her hips and thrusting up hard until she came with a shuddering cry.
I followed right after, pumping another thick load deep inside her while she whispered “thank you, Daddy” over and over.
We stayed connected for a while afterward, her back against my chest as I rubbed slow circles on her belly.
“This is nice,” she murmured contentedly. “Just… being like this with you all day.”
From somewhere down the hall, I heard a door close sharply. Katherine was still in the house, no doubt listening, watching from a distance, her jealousy growing with every domestic, intimate moment we shared.
The rest of the afternoon passed in that new, charged domestic rhythm.
Amelia stayed close — sometimes curled on the couch in my office, sometimes “helping” by kneeling under the desk for a little while, her mouth warm and eager while I tried to finish emails.
By the time evening rolled around, she was glowing and thoroughly used.
She insisted on cooking dinner again. I sat at the island with a glass of whiskey while she moved around the kitchen in nothing but my shirt, the fabric swaying with every step.
She made grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a simple salad.
When Katherine came downstairs, drawn by the smell, Amelia greeted her with that same sweet smile.
“Mom, I made your favorite tea again — extra chamomile with honey. Sit, I’ll bring it to you.”
Katherine hesitated in the doorway, watching Amelia move so comfortably in the space that used to feel like ours. She sat at the table anyway. Amelia poured the tea carefully, then carried the cup over and set it in front of her mother with both hands like she was serving royalty.
“Here you go. Just how you like it.” She even gave Katherine’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before returning to the stove.
The gesture was so domestic, so wife-like, that Katherine’s knuckles went white around the mug.
She sipped the tea in silence while Amelia plated food for both of us, then brought my plate to me and slid into my lap again like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I fed her bites of chicken from my fork while she leaned back against my chest.
Katherine watched every single second. The way Amelia melted into me. The way I rested my hand high on her bare thigh under the shirt. The easy intimacy between us. Her jealousy was thick in the air, almost tangible.
After dinner, Amelia collected the plates and made Katherine a second cup of tea without being asked. “One more before bed? It’ll help you sleep,” she said softly, setting it down in front of her mother. Katherine stared at the cup like it was evidence of everything she’d lost.
When the dishes were done, Amelia turned to me with that needy, submissive look. “Can we go upstairs now, Daddy?”
I didn’t answer with words. I just stood, took her hand, and led her toward the stairs. Katherine stayed at the table, staring into her tea.
Up in the master bedroom — our bedroom now — I stripped the shirt off Amelia and laid her out on the big bed. I spent a long time between her legs, licking and sucking until she was begging, then slid inside her and fucked her slow and deep while she wrapped her legs around me.
“Mine,” I growled against her neck as I came inside her again. “This body, this pussy, this womb — all mine.”
Amelia clung to me, whispering “yours” over and over as she came with me.
Downstairs, I was pretty sure Katherine was still sitting at the table, listening to every sound that drifted down the hall.