Page 82 of Unwrapping Deviance

I know way too much about that show. After Sam’s death, it was all Mira wanted to watch. We’d burrito on the couch for hours, days watching Rory’s villain arc.

“But I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I’m really against knowing my neighbors.”

I burst out laughing. Mira is definitely not small-town girl material. This morning at the diner proved that. Growing up in a confined environment meant letting everyone in on your business, willingly or not. They will pop in at all hours without invitation and will tell everyone about the speck of dust on the sideboard. Mira wouldn’t put up with that.

But maybe I could build her a home somewhere quiet and isolated. hugged by wilderness and canopied by a whole galaxy of stars. Chris and I loved running off into the forest every chance we had. We camped out all summer, living off the fish we caught and berries we foraged. Mira would love a little garden in the back. A jacuzzi sounded nice on the back porch where we could barbecue and cuddle. Maybe a firepit.

A play structure.

I’ve always liked the idea of at least two kids. Mira’s an only child and I only have Christian. None of us had any other people in our lives who might bring a child over, but ... we could have one.

But I know Mira. She wouldn’t. Having me, now Christian in her life is already stretching the limits of her anxiety. A child — a baby — would send her over. Nevertheless, one day. Maybe. If she wants. I’m not against the idea.

Still, the thought of my cum filling her so deep she gets pregnant has my cock practically vibrating in my pants. It’s ready to get the job done, but this is a whole conversation that needs to be had between us, and Christian. A baby with Mira would make me ecstatic, but I’m just as okay if she decides it’s not for her.

“Christian kissed me.”

I blink out of my thoughts to steal a glance at the figure next to me. “I’m sorry?”

Mira turns her face, one eye squinted against the glaring sun. “Christian kissed me back in the parking lot of the diner.”

I know that.

I’d been angry and annoyed coming out of the diner, but I wasn’t blind to Mira’s flushed face. Her ravaged lips. The bright, purple hickey against the soft white of her flesh alongside mine from earlier. It just took a backseat to the much bigger situation.

“Did you like it?” I ask.

“Yes ... and no,” she murmurs, shifting slightly in her seat.

My gaze drops to her thighs pressed stiffly together. Her tight little nipples extending against the front of her soft top.

“Did he make your pussy wet, baby?”

Her blue eyes jump to my face for the barest second. “Yes.”

Since my talk with Christian about access to Mira, part of me waited to feel the punch of regret. I wonder if I should have waited. I only just tasted her. Maybe that should be enough until she’s ready for more.

But then Christian was leaving, and my plans got hazy because I want to see her with him. I want her riding his cock. I want to watch him eat her pussy until she cums the way she did for me. I want her cunt used and dripping when I push her quivering thighs apart and take her all over again.

It’s not all I want. Sharing her isn’t mandatory or a deal breaker. Having her to myself, using and breaking her on my own is enough, but there’s something about watching a woman being forced to take everything, to cum so much she’s in tears. There’s a special kind of pleasure in overwhelming her until the pain becomes a sort of bliss.

But only with Christian.

I never felt this need with another man. I never even considered it. The very idea bores me. But with Christian, he knows what I like. He knows how to place them for me to watch. He knows how to make them scream to make my cock hard.

I want him to fuck my Mira. I want him to hold her down and make her take him while I watch her struggle. And if I had any doubts that Mira might not like the idea, it vanished that morning when I know she saw Christian and begged me to make her cum again. It was her unwavering stare on him while I lapped her greedy little cunt.

I fucking want that again, but more.

I want all of it.

“Take your shorts off, baby girl.”

In the next seat, Mira turns her head away from the window to blink at me. “What?”

“Shorts, baby, off.”

I don’t blame her hesitance, but she asks no follow up questions when unsnapping the silver button and dragging the zipper down. The soft denim slides over her hips and down her knees to puddle at her ankles.

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