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I tug down her dress, grabbing a tit in my hand. “These,” I smirk, leaning in and sucking on her nipple till she moans.
“You’ll always submit to me, Brianna. You were made for me.”
I slip my hand under her short dress and into her soaked panties. She moans when I rub my fingers over her slit. “Pretty little cunt.” I whisper in her ears as I drive a finger inside her. Oh, fuck, she feels like heaven, dripping wet and ready.
“Tell me how bad you want to come.”
“Oh, God, yeah, like that,” she spreads her legs wide, her back arching against the wall, as I drive another finger into her. I stretch her pussy, until she’s covering her mouth to bite back a scream. I press my thumb against her sensitive bundle of nerves, and she comes apart, her body shuddering in an orgasm that is fucking mine.
I remove my hands, sucking on my fingers. Fuck she’s sweet.
I smirk. “You are such an obedient little kitten.”
Her eyes widen, and she straightens up her clothes. “You bastard.” she hisses before she slams the door behind her.
Justin doesn’t say much at dinner that night.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Okay.” He says, eating his burger.
I nod.
“Are you doing okay, with Mom and everything?” I hate that I have no idea how to talk to my son. I want to be there for him. I want to be a good father, but I have no idea how. I take a sip of my whiskey; I haven’t touched my food.
He looks at me, shakes his head. “Why don’t you worry about Ty, and I’ll worry about me,” he scoffs.
“You’re both my kids. I worry about you both.”
“Dad, you can barely take care of yourself. If it wasn’t for Sarah, we’d be fucked. So maybe just hold off on the concerned father routine.”
“Did you just swear at me?”
“Yeah, so?”
I run my hands through my hair, pick up my phone and walk outside with my glass. I’m drunk as hell. Not a good role model for a fifteen-year-old.
I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts until my finger rests on her name. I shouldn’t text. I should drink some more and go to bed. I polish off my glass.
Me: Thank you for helping with Ty today.
She doesn’t reply. I climb up the stairs and walk into the guestroom. I can hear Ty’s music. I lie on the bed and look up at the ceiling. I don’t sleep in my bedroom, everything in it reminds me of Savanna, and I just can’t face any of that right now.
Bre: What did you really text me for, Denton?
Me: To say thank you.
Bre: Yeah, sure. Well, it was nothing. I care about your kids. Good night.
I don’t reply, just turn over in my bed and go to sleep. I don’t trust myself to not say something stupid like how much I need to be inside her right now.
17
Bre
“Ibreak, I fall,
Go through it all,
