The Way She Burns

He stops my flow of words with a kiss, keeping his lips there, just breathing, breathing with me. “I hold it against myself.” Gently, he covers my bare flesh with the skirt of my dress. “Only the best from now on, Chloe. Only the best for what’s mine.” He brushes our mouths together. “You’ll sit on my lap at lunch time. It’ll make you wet. And I want you juicy for that next lick down. Is that clear?”

I fall forward into his arms, boneless, obedient. “Yes, Daddy.”

But in the back of my mind, I’m wondering how long I can live in this land of make believe without the consequences catching up with me.

7

Sebastian

I stare out the window of my study to the cliffs beyond. Early evening has turned the sky into an orange fire bomb, gulls swooping and calling to each other, their silhouettes outlined by the fading sun. but I’m seeing none of it. No, I’m captivated by Chloe’s reflection. She sits behind me, sprawled out in a mountain of pillows in front of a roaring fire, reading to her brother. Every minute or so, she yawns adorably and loses her place. It’s no wonder the girl is exhausted. I’ve gone down on her five glorious times today.

Each time, her orgasm has been more explosive than the previous one. Her inhibitions are long gone. Where at first she was almost afraid of the pleasure, now she goes after it. Her breathy little hiccupping sounds have taken up permanent residence in my head. My tongue is sore from the amount of licking I’ve done today—and I’ve never been more fulfilled in my life.

Nor have I ever needed to fuck so bad.

My balls are so heavy with unspent seed, they might as well be full of cement.

But God in heaven, she’s worth every second of the pain.

This last time I ate her pussy, I carried her up the stairs to my bedroom while Dobbs entertained Curtis with a sock puppet show. I ordered her to ride my face, to grind down on my stiffened tongue until she came—and she almost screamed the fucking house down. I had to pounce on her and cover her mouth, talk to her in a soothing voice to calm her down afterward.

Obviously I don’t share Chloe’s belief that she has a dangerous wicked streak. Something inside of her that needs to be subdued, lest it cause bad things to happen. Of course I don’t believe that nonsense.

That wicked streak is real, however—and it’s a goddamn treasure. A revelation. When she’s aroused, she transforms into a desperate, whimpering wildcat. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about it—or her. She’s perfect. Crafted by God himself.

How can I convince her that the passion inside of her is something to be celebrated and enjoyed, instead of being ashamed of it? My plan so far consists of giving her so many orgasms, she can no longer live without them. Or me.

She’s mine.

The thought of her leaving because I bring her wickedness to life…it terrifies me.

Her arrival has brought this house to life. Brought me back to life.

I was nothing but ice on the inside until her touch thawed me. And I can’t let her go.

I refuse.

My obsession will remain right here with me where I can protect her, make her happy my whole life. Or so help me God, I will level the place. Tear it down with my bare hands and throw it brick by brick into the churning ocean at the bottom of the cliffs.

I breathe in and out slowly, trying to stop the racing of my pulse. I’m not going to last much longer without coming inside of her. No, I’ve got minutes left to my patience.

It has been a painful torture not to fill Chloe with my cock once today. Giving her pleasure without receiving my own was meant to be an atonement for my selfish behavior last night, but giving her head? That’s definitely no punishment. God, no. It’s the fucking opposite. Her little wet cunt tastes like the finest sugar, so tight and tasty and horny.

I might have to make this a weekly event.

Again, she loses her place in the book, her head dropping forward sleepily as if it weighs a hundred pounds, before she jerks upright and apologizes to Curtis, searching for her place in the story. She giggles when she realizes her brother has nodded off in her lap, and the sound of her contentment washes over me. Makes my heart pound in a jagged rhythm.

I love you.

I wish to say those words to her reflection, but she won’t say them back. I’m sure of it. Not so soon. I’ve been living in this cold mausoleum for years, shunning the world, keeping people at a distance. I’m a bossy asshole and I have a long way to go before I can convince this angel to love me. Until then, I will give her safety and pleasure and any material item she could ever want. I can give her brother peace and an education.