Virulent (Folie a Deux 1)

Tomorrow is my birthday.

I should be celebrating twenty-five years of being alive, but there’s something bothering me. A niggle in the back of my mind. The voice of my mother telling me I’m good for nothing and the grunt of my father telling me I’m a pretty princess.

A cold shiver trails down my spine and over my skin, I can’t help the shudder that follows the vile memory. It churns my stomach when I close my eyes, and when I open them, I’m met with Pike’s sleeping face.

He’s handsome when he’s smirking at me, and beautiful when he’s peacefully sleeping beside me. Reaching under the sheet, I find his cock, hard and proud, and wrap my hand around the rigid shaft. Slowly, I stroke him, causing a low groan to rumble in his inked chest. His skin, colorful and vibrant, moves when he breathes, and I’m hypnotized by the motion.

“Baby girl,” his sleepy grunt comes from those full lips. “If you keep that up I’m going to have to fuck you raw.” His threat has me squirming.

“Is that a promise? It is my birthday after all,” I remind him quietly as I continue jerking him off. It’s late in the evening already, and I’m hungry—or thirsty—for some of his sticky, hot mess.

He doesn’t respond, he hust rolls his body over mine and settles between my legs. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t touch me, he merely drives into my body. His cock hitting so deep inside of me I have to arch my back to take him in. His hips pound me into the mattress, the pain and pleasure that rockets through me has whimpers tumbling from my lips.

“Baby girl,” he coos in my ear. “I have a special surprise for you tonight.” He tells me this as his cock owns me like it did even before I knew I needed it.

Opening my mouth, I attempt to ask him what he means, but his lips crash down on mine, stealing my words and my moans. Again and again, I claw at him as he moves faster, his hips slamming into me, fucking me into the bed. His ferocious grunts vibrate through his chest and into mine as he swallows my sounds of pleasure.

I’m his. He’s mine.

“Oh,” I whimper into his mouth. My nails dig into his flesh so hard they draw blood, causing him to hiss. Moments later, he fills me with his hot seed, reminding me that I need to take my pill. I must remember. I shudder as his fingers pinch my clit, sending me barreling over the edge and my mind is cleared of worry as I cry out his name.

Pike gently moves off me, pulling me into his arms before placing a kiss on my forehead. His arousal drips from my body, coating my thighs and the sheet below me.

“Sweet Molly and Daddy Pike, love each other with all their might. When they kiss, and when they fight. Molly never wants to lose her daddy, she never wants to cry. Because if Pike goes away, Molly will die.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he sighs, wrapping both of his arms around me. Pike pulls me on top of him, causing me to straddle his body. He doesn’t care that I’m still dripping his sticky fluids all over the bed. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?” He cups my cheeks in his hands, holding my face just so. Those deep blue eyes of his pierce me. They stab at me and I can’t help giggling.

“Yes, daddy. Can we go out tonight? It’s my birthday.”

He stares at me for a long while before nodding. “I have a place we can go.”

The Graveyard

Molly

Colors.

Bright swirly colors.

Everything tingles.

“Round and round we go. Where we stop, down we go. Into the hole, we follow the rabbit and the mole,” I squeal as I spin under the silver moon that hangs high in the dark sky. “Round and round we go. I want my Daddy to fuck my hole.” Giggling, I stop all movement to find Pike leaning against a tree, watching me as he smokes his cigarette.

“Are you happy, baby girl?” he questions, his voice thick and heavy, like hot chocolate mixed with whipped cream. My stomach rumbles loudly in the silence and another fit of giggles tumbles from my lips.

Colors spin.

I spin.

My head spins.

“It’s all spinny, Daddy,” I pout, finding Pike stalking closer to me. He places his hands on my shoulders to steady me, and those piercing eyes hold me hostage.

“Look at me, Sweet Molls,” he orders, his brows knitting together, making him look like a grumpy old man. “You’re my baby girl, if you want to go home—”

“No, Daddy!” I giggle. “Let’s play, please?” I drag the last word out, just like I always do so he can give me what I want, what I need.