Page 12 of Make Believe

I guess there’s only one way to find out.

CHAPTER 5

Kadence

A storm is raginginside me. A hurricane, even. But on the surface, my waters are smooth. Calm. Perfect.

I almost feel like I’m on the outside looking over myself as McKenna drapes his larger body over mine, panting, both our clothes damp, lubricant and semen dripping and drying all over the place.

When I’d come slinking up to him, fluttering my eyelashes, I was half convinced he was going to shoo me away. If not, I thought maybe he might take me to a private corner and fondle me up a little. Perhaps ask for a blow job.

Never in a million years did I truly believe he’d bend me over and fuck me in front of a room full of people like a rabid beast.

It was absolutely delicious.

God, it was almosttoogood. I forgot who I am, what I’m trying to achieve.

If only I’d had someone taking pictures. I doubt there would be an easy way to deny what just happened to the press. As it was…that was only between us. And a room full of kinksters, yes. But I’m not sure how I feel. I enjoyed it. I can’t deny that. But…

But nothing. This is a long game. I’ve had plenty of good sex devoid of feelings. This man’s son being a case in point. Thattrouble startedoutsidethe bedroom. Just because the chemistry between Daddy McKenna and me was immediately off the charts doesn’t change my goal. In fact, I should view this as a delightful bonus on my quest for justice. Like dental care as part of your health insurance.

Lucky me.

“Are you still a doll?” McKenna murmurs against my ear. He’s still inside me, his hand still cupping my spent cock. He caresses the backs of his clean fingers against my cheek.

“I’m always a doll, Daddy,” I say cheekily. “But I was done being in doll mode unless you want to keep playing.”

His breath is warm on my neck as he nuzzles his nose against my damp hair. He inhales deeply and hums. “I think I want you to be a boy again. If that’s how this works.”

“It can be whatever you want,” I assure him.

“I like you talking,” he says. I feel his words reverberating from his chest against my back. “But stay still for me, Kiki. Don’t move until I say.”

I hum in response, indicating that I’ll do as he’s asked.

There’s movement all around the room. Quiet music is playing, and people are talking and making sensual noises. We’re no longer the center of attention. I still can’t believe that Daddy McKenna willingly did that. Perhaps my honey trap isn’t going to be so difficult to set, after all.

Gently he eases out of me. I don’t look around, staying still like he asked. I’m not quite in doll mode anymore. The head space has shifted, and I’ve lost that dreamy, floaty feeling. I’m surprised how well he was able to take me there for his first time. But it’s easy for me to lock my muscles and play the part. Sometimes it’s actually a struggle to become inanimate. That can either be frustrating or part of the fun depending on who I’m with. But right now, I just lock my limbs and let my gaze settle in the middle distance.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting. I think I feel him rearranging himself behind me, and most likely hear the chink of his metal belt buckle. It’s a bit difficult to be sure with all the other movements and noises around me. Someone I don’t know strokes my hair as they walk past me. I like that.

What I thought he’d do was maybe give me a rimming. Some guys like admiring their handiwork up close and personal afterward. And I know he’s approaching fifty, so therefore unlikely to get it up again anytime soon. But the other thing I thought he might do while my body was still his to control was perhaps settle back in his armchair and get me to warm his cock until he was ready to fuck my face.

When the slightly cold baby wipe slides along my crack, it takes everything I’ve got to not jump a foot in the air.

“Good doll,” he says warmly as he cleans me up. He mops up around my cock and slips me back into my underwear. Then he gently pulls my dress and robe back down before running his hand lightly along my back, over my ass, and down the back of my thigh.

My chest tightens. What’s he doing? He’s a bastard with a bastard son. He’s not supposed to be tender.

I’m so shocked that I’m not aware as he moves around me until he wraps his hand around my elbow and helps me stand. I’m ashamed to say that I wobble a little on my three-inch heels, but he’s right there, still gripping my arm to make sure I don’t fall.

This is the first time we’ve stood next to each other. I’m slightly taller thanks to my shoes, but he doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, he’s still radiating that Daddy Dom confidence that I was drawn to in the first place.

“Come sit with me some more,” he says, stepping back toward the armchair that respectfully no one took while hewas otherwise occupied. His fingers are still strong against my elbow, so I naturally follow his lead.

But my heart is beating faster, and a feeling like panic is prickling over my skin. My instinct is screaming at me that this is enough, even though I’m not sure why. My plan is working even better than I’d hoped. Yet something in me is saying I need to quit while I’m ahead.

“Sorry, Daddy,” I say, resisting his pull just a fraction. It’s remarkable how he stops tugging me right away. I bat my eyelashes and go for my signature cute-but-bratty attitude. “Kiki-rella has to leave before midnight, I’m afraid.”

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