Page 23 of Unwrapping Deviance

Mira bursts out laughing. “Well, it’s certainly why we haven’t had chili in a really long time.”

It took me a second to comprehend her implication. Another second and I have my fingers buried in her side and she’s shrieking as I find her tickle spot. She tries to escape, tries to pry off my fingers, but she’s no match for my strength and I have her bent over the back of the sofa. Pinned in place with my hips firmly wedged against her taut ass. Her body forced up onto her toes. My fingers wiggling just along the curve of her hip bone.

She’s thrashing and bucking and grinding over my cock. The hardening appendage is perfectly nestled between her cheeks, my hands firm around her waist. The fabric of her dress has twisted high up her spread thighs.

Like this, how am I supposed to overlook the image of her straddling her pillow, slippery lips parted around her toy, a toy Inever even knew she had, but now I’m curious just how often she used it. How often does it get to be inside her, making her cum?

It’s not nearly big enough to give her what she really needs. My fingers are thicker than that thing, but it gets to fuck her, and I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object before.

Mira isn’t moving anymore. Neither am I. I have her bent in half over the back of the worn sofa, toes barely grazing the floor and the perfect height to take her. To breach her tight hole while she’s helpless to stop me. While she kicks uselessly while I finger her ass at the same time.

We’re both so still as our situation goes from lightheaded fun to whatever fucked up thing this is.

Mira shifts. Just a fraction. A nudge to tempt me. My own hips meet the coax with a rolling thrust that earns a shaky gasp from the woman trying to spread herself further for more.

God, help me, but my fingers bunch the scrap of fabric keeping her from me. I’m dragging the barrier up over the simple, white cotton bunched between her cheeks. Wedged against her wet center, dark with her arousal and drawn tight over the outline of her lips. The bulge pitching the front of my jeans glides perfectly along that path.

I grind my jaw. My fingers dig into Mira’s flesh. I know I’m leaving marks, but it’s her fault.

With what’s left of my shredded control, I push away from her. I put distance between my willpower and the hot piece of ass still bent over the sofa. Ass still displayed for my pleasure as the owner struggles to turn her head back over her shoulder to find me. No doubt baffled why I stopped when my dick is painfully visible bulging the front of my pants.

“Get up,” I hear myself snarl.

Mira tries to slide down. Her efforts only have her dress bunching higher before her toes touch the hardwood and the purple material falls back into place around her thighs.

Her cheeks are rosy with color from being upside down, but also flushed with arousal. She has her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she lifts dark, hungry eyes up to me.

Christ.

How am I supposed to remember I’m responsible for her when her eyes are begging to get fucked? How am I supposed to honor my promise to Sam when the very daughter I swore to protect has a wet stain in her panties? This isn’t right.

“Get in the car,” I bite out.

Mira looks on the verge of arguing, teetering on the edge of demolishing both of us.

“Now!” I bark before she can test me any further.

The little devil with the blue eyes has the nerve to flick them down to the front of my crotch. Run them over the rigid outline scraping the sharp teeth of my zipper before dancing back up to meet my gaze.

There is victory in the clear pools. A glimmer of triumph like it serves me right when I’m the one who always pulls away first.

“I’ll get my shoes,” she says with the ghost of a smile before sweeping past me.

I watch her long legs jog up the stairs. The hem of her skirt bounces and flutters high around her soft thighs to the top.

The moment she’s out of sight, I reach down my pants and adjust my idiot dick. I give the stiff traitor a squeeze to dull the pressure.

I know I’m fighting a losing battle. I know it’s only a matter of time before I submit. Moments like that one on the sofa were becoming too frequent, too common. We are both toeing a line that is getting a little more blurred every day, but I have to at least try to honor my promise.

I’ve wondered what Sam would say if she were still here. I’ve lain in bed with Mira draped across my chest, her breathing slow and even, and wondered if she would have disapproved. Theanswer is always a resounding maybe. Any parent would. Mira was Sam’s whole world. Even towards the end, Mira was the only worry Sam had.

I know I’m too old for her. I know there’s that gray area where I was legally married to Sam for two years. The world outside our bubble would have a hard time understanding that I only did it because it was the only way to get Sam on my insurance. Legally frowned upon, but I didn’t give a shit; Sam needed those meds. She needed the specialists and tests her part-time waitressing job couldn’t pay for. I will never regret that choice.

But I never loved Sam. Not the way a husband should. I didn’t ache for her. I didn’t long to get home after a long day in court just to see her. Sam was a friend. Nothing more. In many ways, we saved each other.

The stairs creak. I turn just as Mira skips down with her flats on and her bag strapped over her shoulder.

“I was just held hostage by the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my life guarding the door.” She hit the bottom landing and faces me. “I swear, it was the size of a cat.”

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