Page 16 of Injustice and Absolution

I’d give anything to see the look on her face right now.

“Anyway,”she continues,“Ronin is sweet, but he’s not really my type.”

My cock twitches in a way that only happens when she’s near. I chastise myself and disregard my fucked-up feelings like I always do.

I’ve done horrible things in my lifetime. Acts you get a one-way ticket to hell for even thinking about. But nothing as terrible as the constant, agonizing, impure thoughts I’ve had toward her.

My daughter’s best friend.

“Oh yeah? And what’s your type?”

I may be a fool, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could be her type. The thought makes me angry. It’s not an opinion I should dare to have.

“I don’t really know…”

“Well, maybe we’ll figure out what it is tonight. There will be lots of guys to choose from.”

There have been plenty of things to come from my daughter’s mouth over the years that cause my anger to flare, but this may be the most rage she’s ever set off in me. I’m angry at her for the suggestion, but I’m enraged with myself for not being strong enough to fight the depraved bastard within me who wants Delilah for himself.

The moment she turned eighteen, it was like a switch flipped inside of me, bringing to life a demon who craves nothing more than to lick away every last hurt and scar she’s ever endured.

I’ve seen the way she looks at me. Before these unwanted urges of mine surfaced, I took her gazes as curious or even fearful.

Now, however? I see them for what they are... The two of us swinging like pendulums in a vast realm of perversion.

Did I do this to her? Was I somehow unable to keep the searching eyes of my demon hidden from her? Did he latch onto her pain and insecurity and permeate and sicken her innocent soul?

I don’t want these feelings. I shouldn’t think of her as anything other than the young girl I’ve always known. The endangered kitten in need of saving. Instead, she’s become a siren I can’t ignore no matter how hard I try.

I would do anything to change the way I view her, but nothing I’ve done has eliminated this immoral hunger.

I’ve taken to punishing myself by way of denial, thinking eventually, my mentality would shift in favor of release for someone less forbidden.

It’s only gotten worse.

I feel my anger snap as Delilah answers,“Can’t wait...”

Rage causes me to miss anything else that’s said after that. Intent to punish the reason for the hellfire in my veins, I pivot my body, stepping into the doorframe.

Wrath melts into hunger as I come face-to-face with Delilah. Not for the first time, I witness the growing need within her.

Take her.My demon taunts me.

But it’s not always a sexual craving glimmering in her stare. Sometimes it’s emotional. Other times I think she’s fighting a desperate battle within herself to make sense of the life she’s had.

Before I can determine its cause this time, she drops her gaze and attempts to go around me.

Show her what it’s like to be fucked by a real man.

“Sorry,” she whispers in a rush.

Like a force drawn to her, my body moves with hers, stopping her from getting away.

Get it together, Royce.

Somehow, my conscience breaks through the devious chanting, quieting my demon.

Putting a swift end to our encounter, I grip her firmly by her shoulders—an act I immediately regret as touching her refuels my need—to move her to the other side of the door’s opening.

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