AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I strain my ears. She’s soaping up that body right now in my shower. The sound of the water’s driving me batshit because she’s naked, touching herself. Not in a sexual way, she knows not to do that, but…fuck. I’ve jacked off at least twice a day since her performance on Saturday. You’d think I’d be out of cum.
But there’s nothing like having something sizzling hot in my grasp and calling it off limits to drive me crazy. My limits are stretched, and my control is fraying over a fucking girl.
One I don’t like.
One I want to destroy.
One I want to fuck senseless.
But not yet. I don’t have to like her to want her. It’s not how things work, I know that. And normally I wouldn’t care. It’s just the level of want that gets me. I’ve never felt a lust so savage and deep before Ivy.
Hands to myself until I have her truly primed. And holding off on sex and touching and giving her what she wants, whatshe hates that she wants, is good. She might be sweet and pure, but she’s got a stubborn streak that speaks to my dominant soul.
A sweet, stubborn brat of a sub who will continue to defy me, begging for my punishment?
Manna from fucking heaven.
The water stops. When she comes out of the bathroom, she’s wrapped in a towel, the lightest touch of makeup on her freshly scrubbed face. I gave her the order to go easy on the makeup, but I have the feeling it’s her preferred look. The straps of her bra peek out from the top of the towel.
“Lose the bra and put on the dress. The back’s complicated, so come to me and I’ll help.”
And then, because if I see her almost naked I might slip the fuck up, I leave the room to get ready.
Tonight is our first official step.
We might have taken a different route than the one I originally planned, but she’s already well on her way to being mine, and that will be clear to anyone watching tonight.
I walk into my bedroom fisting the sides of my hair.
Sometimes, I wish I still smoked.
I remember the rush in my brain bursting to life with pleasure, with addiction, with that first drag.
But I squashed that habit years ago when I needed—craved—cigarettes. When buying a pack or bumming a cigarette was worth more than food on the streets.
I know what addiction does. I’ve seen it up close.
And it comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes.
My mother was an addict in a way. A victim of abuse who, even though she had a kid who got beat the fuck up by that degenerate who called himself my father, went back to him. Over and over again.
It wasn’t love.
She was addicted to that cycle. Feeding into it.
The woman wouldn’t leave him, not even when he put her in hospital. He gave her flowers, fucking flowers, and then it cycled right back around again. He didn’t hurt her enough that she ever went looking for medical help. So she kept going back for her next fix.
Nothing stopped her from going back to him, not even when he beat the shit out of me because one more punch to her head and chest would have landed her in the Emergency Room…or worse.
Mom would try and stop him from hitting me, but regardless, she never left him. And there were plenty of times when I took the beatings for her all because she was addicted to that rush of the high points.
Once I turned fifteen, I started getting stronger. At sixteen, I was bigger than him. That was when he beat her so bad with a baseball bat, she should have landed in the hospital. She could have died.
I stopped him. I made her pack. And then I fucking killed him without one drop of regret. Not one.
And she knew. Even an addict like her knew.
She called me a monster.
