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 herpussy, 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.
