“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Tyres crunch on the gravel. I glance out the window to see one of Dad’s old pals towing his classic MG.
“Want me to see to it?” Vi asks.
She’s more than capable of seeing what’s wrong, and it’s clear she loves the old classics, but I should say hello.
“I’ll go. He’s a mate of my dad’s.”
She looks out the window at the car behind the MG. “He’s with Toby from the band.”
I place the brush on the paint lid on her windowsill again and head downstairs with Vi following behind. I know I’ve no need to be jealous of some punk kid. They’re just friends, but something nags at me that she should be someone her own age. Maybe one day she will. But first I’ll make the most of the precious time we have together.
* * *
The workshop door opens,blowing in a biting wind that carries the scent of blueberry pancakes. I wipe my hands on a cloth and stalk over to Vi. “Hey, my favourite.”
She smiles, holding up the plate of pancakes, but I’m talking about her. She’s my favourite thing in this whole world. I wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet to bring her lips to mine.
Her giggle and bright smile light up the dull workshop. She kisses me softly, but with the heat of a roaring fire, setting my body alight despite the bitterly cold morning.
“Did you sleep well?” I pepper her face with kisses as if I haven’t seen her in a week.
“I’d sleep better if you would stay with me.”
I close my eyes, bringing her close. I wish I could sleep with her, but the last time I stayed in a bed with a woman, I almost attacked them in my sleep. The nightmares never go away and that moment between sleep and waking is always hazy. My mind plays tricks on me, deceiving reality and bending truths. It’s always his face, I see, and hers. I should have been there.
Opening my eyes, I stare at her beautiful face, sliding my hand over her violet hair. How can something so beautiful come from something so bad?
“Wipe that bratty pout from your face before I remove it with my tongue.”
“I like the sound of that.” She slides her palms down my t-shirt over the ridges of my stomach. “I also like the sound of you removing other things, too.” Her fingers tug at my belt, the familiar sound of her clinking the buckle open has my cock stirring.
“You had my cock last night.”
“I want it again. You said you would always take care of me, Daddy.”
“You’ll have to wait, petal. I don’t have a condom on me.” I step away and pick up a rolled pancake, before my dick gets ideas about diving without a swimming cap. The sugary roll tastes just as good as her. The purple colouring of the mixture is tangy against the sweet coating of syrup.
She chews on her bottom lip with a wicked smile, pushing the apples of her rosy cheeks up. “Today is day seven since I got the shot.”
I cough, almost choking on the pancake as it absently drifted down the wrong hole with my lax jaw. The roll drops to the plate and I toss it aside on a pile of wood. With sticky hands, I yank her pyjama bottoms down, letting them pool at her feet, then grip her thighs, hoisting her onto the nearest cabinet.
She yelps. “Mrs Walker’s cabinet.”
“Fuck the cabinet,” I growl, nipping at her neck, popping the buttons to her pyjama shirt as I go. “I’m gonna fuck you raw on this unit.” My rock hard dick chafes against the denim. Vi makes quick work of unzipping my jeans and setting me free as I drag her top over her shoulder, baring her glorious tits.
“Tell me, petal, are you ready for me?” She answers with a gasp as I dive between her thighs to check for myself, lapping up her sweet nectar. Today I’m a bear, feasting on her honey. My hands maul her body, squeezing and scratching every part of her flesh while my tongue explores every crevice.
A moan vibrates in her chest. Her fingers slip through my hair, digging into my scalp with every lick of my tongue. “Fill me up, Kane.”
My eyes shoot to her hazel irises rolling back in her head. Thick eyelashes flicker with pleasure, and I’m ready to explode from her scent alone. Her arousal drips from my lips, coating the week’s scruff on my jaw. The polished wood on Mrs Walker’s dresser gleams between her legs, her pussy dripping with desire.
I stand, smothering her mouth, unable to quench my thirst for her. My full length presses against her entrance, pushing through her tight walls with ease into a furnace of heat.
“Vi. Vi. Vi,” I pant her name with each thrust of my hips. More words roll on my tongue, but I can’t speak them out loud. It’s not fear that she won’t return my love, but fear that she will and I don’t fucking deserve it.
Soon she’ll go and live the rest of her life and I’ll just be some guy she fucked for a while, wanting to get a taste of what her mother had. She said she wanted to know everything about her mother. There’s no better knowledge than stepping into her shoes, only I never fucked Ali like I do Vi. I’ve never fucked anyone like I do Vi.
