Page 75 of His Pretty Little Duet

I touch his cheek, the small bristles coarse under my palm but undeniably virile. "No?"

"No." His large hand swallows mine before removing my palm from his face, and it feels like an icy wall is being erected between us. Is it to keep me out? Or to keep him in? "I won't be yours, but you are mine. That is already settled. You will handle this better if you forget about your father all together. The man is not worth your consideration."

I frown, thrown by the way his teeth gritted around each syllable in that last sentence. "Wait? I thought you were friends."

"I said nothing of the sort. We are associates."

"So you don't like him?"

"Fawn," he warns. "One lesson you need to learn, sweet girl, is that there is pleasure in acceptance and submission. You came to me. Youtrustme. So let me decide what is best for you." His irises become thin blue rings around a consuming dark pupil. "Now, you need something in your mouth to stop those lovely lips from asking questions you don't need to worry about anymore. Lay with your head towards the foot of the bed and suck my cock."

Air locks in my throat. "What?"

"Your ears work perfectly fine." His thumb comes up to my lower lip, folding down the flesh while his gaze skims the inner pink depths. "You are overthinking. Anxious about things that you don't need to be—not anymore. I need to redirect your troublesome thoughts. Suck my cock until you don't feel the need to ask so many questions. Until you stop worrying. Until you understand that I am here to take care of you. I will do the worrying for you. Let me protect you... even from yourself."

He doesn't mean... like... to calm myself down by sucking his dick... surely that can't be a thing. My eyes widen with realisation. A provocative curve plays with the corner of his mouth. "Do you trust me?"

I nod slowly. "Yes, Sir."

"Then do as you're told."

"Yes, Sir." Pulling the sheets back, he reveals his semi-hard cock. As I move around the bed, he lays on his side and I lay down on mine with my knees curled up and my head in line with his beautiful, engorged erection. "I don't know how to?—"

"I didn't tell you to make me come, little deer. I told you to suck until you feel better about your place with me."

I open my mouth, taking the clean, salty tip between my lips without any expectations to actually perform. He hisses his satisfaction, and a warm pool of sensation rushes through my entire being. It's nice pleasing him.

Mouthing the tip clumsily, I flick my tongue around the knotted base of his head to the smooth curve at the top. I suck lightly, close my eyes, and breathe through my nose. When a little salty fluid comes out of the tiny slit on top, I moan my enjoyment. I play with him, focus on him, and the questions just...stop.

"You are such a good girl." His fingers nestle into the blonde strands at my crown, gently combing through them. "You belongto me. I take great care of my belongings. I know you're stressed about the baby, sweet girl. I am very proud of how seriously you are taking this responsibility. There will be things in your life that only you can control. For everything else, trust in me. I will make sure you never go without. You neverjustsurvive." He strokes my chin as I work the tips of his head. "You can come up here now."

The hard, smooth tip of his cock slips out from between my lips, and I turn, then slide up the bed to face him again, immediately hit with lust-filled blue eyes.

I shuffle slightly, feeling his cock knocking at my stomach almost like he is demanding further attention, screaming his neglect. "Does it hurt when you... get hard?"

His lips twitches with a grin. "What a sweet question."

"You haven't... you know." I avoid his calculating gaze, forcing the word out. "Come."

"It does," he groans, in a way that seems to stifle a powerful, primal urge, "hurt to be anywhere near you, sweet girl, and not be inside you."

I smile a little. "But you operate best under a level of duress, right, Sir?"

"What a promising addition your mere presence will be to my peak condition." A full-blown charismatic smile sweeps across his breathtaking face, and I think my heart just ballooned to the point it will need a new body to reside in. I wonder if he'll share his.

"Well, I am glad to be of assistance to you." I laugh while willing my heart to regain a steady pace as he looks at me with that stunning smile and those soft eyes.

He chuckles once, but the moment of easiness, a slip in his typical calm unaffected demeanour, dissolves as he narrows his eyes on me, as if everything about me is a puzzle and if he squints hard enough, the pieces he can't quite place will slot intoplace. "Tonight," he says, smoothing a piece of hair down my head, "wasn't about me. Now, I've already let you stay up and ask questions. Don't get used to it. Roll over and go to sleep."

As I turn to face the other way, he pulls me back into the cave of his body. I try desperately not to let that bliss, contentment, and safety flood me. A little is okay. A whole ocean of it, though, will probably result in my head submerged and my reality saturated in everything Clay Butcher.

I failed. I am already drowning in him.

I know nothing about relationships. Of love. From a mother or father or lover or friend. I am a blank canvas without appropriate conventions and healthy dynamics to measure my experiences by... but I know whatever is going on between us isn't what everyone else has.

It is more.

It is everything.

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