Page 77 of Unhinged Love

The dress fits her like it was made with her in mind. I forget how to talk when she does a slow turn to show off her plump, firm ass. The swells of her tits are exposed just enough to make me salivate, and her legs? My hands flex from the need to touch them, grab them, wrap them around me.

“You are dangerous,” I tell her, crossing the room in a few long strides so I can set down the water and take her by the waist. “It’s a miracle I didn’t do this at the store.”

She winds her arms around my neck when I kiss her—slow, deep, pulling one high-pitched moan after another from the back of her throat. She’s alive in my arms, warm and firm and soft at the same time.

“You’re so fucking hot.” I pull my head back until she looks me in the eye. “I’m serious. And don’t let anybody ever tell you different. Got it?”

“Got it.” She looks and sounds confused, but that’s fine. I have all the time in the world to wipe out that confusion.

Starting right now, when I turn her in place and bend her over the coffee table. “I love your legs,” I whisper as my hands run up them from her knees to her hips, sliding up under the dress until my thumbs trace where her panties meet her ass cheeks. The way she shivers and gasp gets me rigid, almost dripping already.

“What do you think? Should I fuck you right now?” I whisper, slowly easing her underwear over her ass. “Or should I eat your pussy first?”

“What would you rather do?” My heart almost stops when she wiggles her ass suggestively. Who is this girl? Where has she been hiding?

Under a heavy sweater, that’s where.

All of that sass melts into a high-pitched, needy moan when I find her wet, swollen slit. “I think I would rather taste all of this,” I decide, dragging my fingers through her silky heat.

At first, I don’t understand what happens next. The sound coming from the front entry hall. The door opening.

“We’re home early—” Dad comes around the corner, calling out like he didn’t expect to find us in here.

But that’s okay, because we didn’t expect him to come home early. We didn’t expect to be caught like this, with her bent over in front of me, and my fingers probing her pussy.

He stops dead, eyes bulging, his mouth falling open. “What the hell are you doing?” he bellows.

THIRTY

Elliana

I want to die.I mean, I have wanted to die before—many times, more times than I want to think about—but now I really, really wish I would drop dead on the spot, so I don’t have to face any of this.

I stand up straight and yank my underwear back up with shaking hands before fixing my dress, but not fast enough that Mom didn’t see as she came up behind Paul. “What the fuck is happening here?” God, her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I almost forgot how much I hate it while she was gone.

“What were you doing to her?” Paul storms across the room and wedges himself between us, facing Carter and almost snarling in his face. “What is wrong with you? Are you really so fucked in the head that you would pull something like this?”

“He didn’t—he’s not—” I’m trying, I really am, but it doesn’t seem like anybody’s all that interested in listening to me. Mom is beside herself, her face deep red as she yells incoherently and waves her arms.

My face is redder. In fact, my whole body is flushed in shame. They’re home five days early, with no warning. Of all the times for them to walk in. All I see in front of me is humiliation. Getting accused of all kinds of things, maybe being separated from him over this.

The idea chills my blood and makes my chest ache, but there are bigger problems right now.

Like the way Paul is screaming in Carter’s face. “Well? Tell me what you were doing! Why did you have her like that?”

“My baby.” Somehow, the worst part of all is the way Mom rushes to me and throws her arms around me like she genuinely cares. “What did he do to you? What was he going to make you do?”

“It’s not like you think.” Why bother? She can’t hear me when she’s too busy shouting at Paul to do something. What she expects him to do, I don’t know.

“Would you just listen to me, please?” I beg. “I’m telling you, Mom! He wasn’t making me do anything!”

“The way he didn’t make you take those photos, you mean?”

Oh, my god. I’m going to throw up.

My legs are too weak to hold me up. I end up dropping onto the coffee table while bile rushes up my throat.

“Yeah. We know about the pictures.” Paul’s hands are level with my eyes, and I watch with a sinking heart as they curl into fists while he stares daggers at his son. “You left that part out, didn’t you? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

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