Page 33 of CurVy Baby

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

VALLIE

I ignore the stirring of cramps in my abdomen and the fact it means I’m not pregnant. Which is fine. We have only tried to ‘not try’ for a month. There is literally nothing to be disheartened about. Nothing…

The whiskey glass sits on the desk with a puddle of brown liquid. I know now that it’s coffee.

We all struggle.

No one is free of it.

It hurts my heart to see Dexter on the outside of everything. Knowing he genuinely wants what is best for Tyler, but he’s not catching on quick enough and soon, Tyler will spiral. I’ve already seen it.

1: Tyler wanted to sleep in the cage with me this past week. Which means he wants to feel secure or wants me to himself. Either way, it’s a hint he’s needing control. Isolation. 2: He’s been humming more often, which isn’t always a sign, but it does mean he’s not entirely present. 3: He’s been dark, eyes half mast, hornier, and saying things as they jump into his brain, not at all in a linear fashion.

I reach up and hold the back of Dexter’s neck, staring into deep pits of smooth blue. While he has been too busy for Donnie and Tyler, he has made time for me over the past weeks. Made love to me. Confided in me. If only he could see that he’s not that different to Tyler. I mean, fuck, he has an app on his phone, too. Ironically, it has also been just over five months of his sobriety. “I understand that it might be harder to admit that it’s over, that the time to save him has come and gone.” That hits him hard. He closes his eyes on that sentiment. “You’re too late, Dexter. I’m sorry. The best thing you can do now is to let him be. Let him choose.”

He sighs, deep and long, thoughtful. I am getting through. “He is choosing wrong.”

“I do a lot of reading,” I say through a smile. “Mostly romance and dirty shit, but also psychology journals and essays. I enjoy them. Even more now that I have Tyler in my life. And you…” I admit. “I read all about the first few months out of prison and what to expect. I visit a lot of forums.”

He opens his eyes, and I’m struck again by their sheer beauty. “When we make decisions for him,” I go on. “We take away his choice. When we pressure him, his brain flags us as not safe. And when he feels like he has no choice and is not safe, he has lost control. Those are the three main feelings he needs to have at all times. Safety, choice, and control. Watch him with Molly, Dexter. He is so peaceful with her. So present. Maybe you’ll see his talent is better spent on her.”

His head dips into my hair, and his heavy exhale rushes through the blonde strands. Heats my skin.

“My new addiction.” He groans. “The healthy alternative to wine and spirits.”

“Oh, I’m spirited enough. Don’t you think?”

Slowly, with his head buried in my neck, his voice vulnerable, he grips my waist and lifts me onto his desk. “You’re only wearing Tyler’s shirt.” He brushes the fabric. “That does things to Daddy. You parade around this house, thick thighs exposed, no bra, just knickers and this. You’re asking for it, Baby Girl.”

I smile. “I don’t think Iparade.More like I can’t be fucked choosing something to wear after being fucked by one of you deviants and then having to rush around to get Molly ready for school or something. Boy shirt, no bra—it’s BookToker, stay-at-home mum chic.”

His voice is raspy with arousal as he says, “Well, you’re obscene in everything you wear.”

“I have my period,” I murmur as he trails his lips around my neck and jaw, and parts my thighs with his hips. He grinds against my core.

God, that feels good.

Please, don’t stop.

“Daddy remembers.” His breath rushes along my skin again, raising all the hairs to attention. “Let me take care of you. Show Daddy what you want.”

On their own accord, my hands move to his belt buckle, and I help him remove his pants. They drop at his shoes, exposing thick, long thighs that I wrap my shins around the back of. “Your cock.”

“Easy, Baby Girl.” Tucking my knickers to the side, he sweeps two fingers between my folds, brings his hand back, spits on them, and then glides them gently inside me, all the way to the back. I press both hands to the desk on either side of my body, leaning, offering more access.

“More.” I roll with his fingers, my inner muscles bearing down and gripping. Greedy.

“Do you need Daddy’s big dick in here?”

Oh, God.“Yes.”

“Massaging all these tight, sore muscles?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Use your manners, Baby Girl.”

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