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‘I’ve applied for so many jobs, but I just have no luck.’ She sighs again, her shoulders slumping. ‘I’ll be stuck with my part-time cleaning job forever.’
I had no idea that she’s been actively looking for work – I thought it was something she made up to get her mother off her back.
‘Why didn’t you want to go to college?’
She looks up at me in surprise. I struggle to hold her gaze. I should have asked that question two years ago – should have taken more interest in her.
‘Well, I didn’t really know what I wanted to study…’ I nod for her to continue. ‘And Mum wouldn’t have the money to pay for college, and Dad certainly wouldn’t. And… I didn’t want to ask you as I know how expensive it is to run Kilpatrick Estate.’
‘Sorry,’ I say and swallow the tightness in my throat. Back then, I probably would have laughed in her face had she asked for college money.
Cara just shrugs. ‘I could have applied for a student loan, but it didn’t seem sensible to get a huge loan for a degree that I may not want or use.’
Sensible indeed. And I had thought it was down to laziness. I nod to the letter. ‘What type of position was it?’
‘Um, support worker in a nursery.’
‘You want to work with kids?’
‘I don’t mind kids. They are fun.’ A small smile playing on her face disappears when she continues. ‘But the letter says that since I don’t have any experience working with kids, they won’t consider me.’
She’ll soon have plenty of first-hand experience with a kid.
Truth is, I’ve become obsessed with the idea of making Cara pregnant, making her belly swell with my child.
And with every fuck, Cara seems to mellow – the angry pain-in-the-ass teenager is being replaced with a relatively pleasant young woman – sensible young woman. She may still play that awful music at full blast, but she seems to care more about her actions, little things like tidying up after herself, and she doesn’t snap and yell as much as she used to. And there’s been no parties or boyfriends in the house the last weeks. If I were to guess, she’s lacked attention all her life, from her loser biological father, her egocentric mother and then by me, her stepfather. The carelessness and the lashing and acting out has been her way of hiding the pain of never feeling loved or wanted.
It’s pretty sick that my vicious desire for revenge is what is helping Cara. Sometimes I feel a twinge of guilt for using her, but most of the time, I’m too hard to care.
‘Do you want a kid of your own?’ I find myself asking, and suddenly I’m very nervous about her answer.
‘A kid? No.’ She scrunches up her nose and I swallow hard, coldness trickling down my spine. ‘Lots of kids, yes.’
‘What?’
She smiles, lopsided. ‘Only-child syndrome – I don’t wantachild, I want abigfamily.’ She brings her arms out wide, as if she was hugging several people at once.
I bark out a laugh, and my shoulders sag. ‘I hear you – only child myself, you know.’
Cara sobers and her violet-blue eyes go soft. ‘I’m sorry you and Mum couldn’t have children.’
‘I’m not.’
‘But… You didn’t want children?’ she asks quizzingly, tilting her head to the side.
‘Not with your mother,’ I answer with a conviction I can feel in every cell of my body.
‘And I hear you.’Cara grins. We share something then, a mutual understanding. My pulse beats faster and I ask quietly, ‘Whereisyour mother?’
Cara’s breath hitches and she bites her lip. ‘I think she’s in the shower.’
‘Come here, let me make you feel better.’ I wink.
She hesitates, glances over her shoulder, then walks up to me. Her skin is soft against my hands as I gently cradle her face. I breathe in her scent before I press my lips to hers. Cara sighs and her curves, that have become so familiar to me, melt against my body. There’s a rumbling noise from my chest as her hands leave a warm trail through my t-shirt before linking behind my neck. I tilt her head to the side and waste no time forcing my tongue into her willing mouth. Cara loves it when I take charge, when I dominate her. I swallow her moans, knowing I shouldn’t do this, not with her mother in the house, but the chance of getting caught makes my cock swell.
‘You want your daddy to make you feel better?’ My lips find her rapid pulse under her jugular.
‘God, yes. Please, Daddy, make me feel good.’
