Page 85 of Felonies are Forever

Or do you need more?

Is there something else you’re searchin’ for?

That lost unsteadiness evaporates as she closes her eyes and the lilt of her voice spreads through me like sweet poison. The song stings me in places that have never felt anything. She raises one hand along with the high note, tightening my balls against my body.

Tell me something, boy

Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void?

Or do you need more?

Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?

This is going to fuck things up. The things I want to do to my new stepsister but it’s a force larger than myself. As I move through the tables, winding like a viper toward my prey, my eyes lock on the ‘V’ between her legs.

I imagine throwing her down, cutting every shred of her clothing from her curves, grabbing her behind the knees and spreading her wide so I see it all. That slick pink slit, that puckered little asshole. My fire’s never been lit like this and I start to wonder if the bartender slipped something in my water shot just for shits and grins.

The irresponsible desire to defile her, to have her sticky and stuffed full of my cock as I pump through my own jizz to fill her up again, raw and rough, is all-consuming like wildfire on the horizon.

I imagine her calling for me. Begging me in slutty, needy moans, leaving all that sweetness behind and turning into my little wet fuck doll, greedy for what only I can give her. Slapping that juicy little cunt while she calls me Daddy and begs me to fuck her.

I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in…

Fuck, this girl is destroying me right here in front of every-fucking-one. Every word, every note delivered directed into the ball of hate in my chest, destroying it.

We’re far from the shallow now…

Her lashes flutter then her eyes connect to mine. I’m standing at the edge of the stage in the middle of it all and I don’t give a fuck. She looks like she was born to be on stage but not this shitty one.

She holds the microphone like she should be holding my dick. Chubby little fingers wrapped around, barely circling the girth.

Her tumbles of red curls split over her bare shoulders. That white blouse barely covering her voluptuous tits that are making my mouth water.

Three of the dancers catch my eye sitting at a table to the left. They’re throwing back shots with a few regulars but they’re mocking Lula. Pretending they’re singing into invisible microphones. Only, they are pumping their hands back and forth like they’re giving head, their tongues pulsing out on their cheeks as the others laugh.

Oh. Fuck. No.

A low growl rumbles in my chest, constricting my throat as she finishes the last of the song and I’ve never heard anything more beautiful in my life. She’s got a voice like an angel. My angel. And this bullshit is going to stop right fucking now.

She kills the end of the song on a note that gives me fucking shivers and nearly stops my damn heart.

There’s applause, her mother is doing this little bunny hop while she claps, pointing to herself and telling everyone Lula is her daughter while my father sits at a table, oblivious to it all, tapping on his phone.

“We should invite her to chubby chasers’ night,” one of the girls says.

Then a gold chain wearing dude named Sam—a regular with a wife and six kids at home—chimes in, “Yeah, fucking nasty—”

He doesn’t get to finish. I barrel over there and flip the four top over, laying him out with one solid fist to his jaw knocking a tooth onto the floor as blood splatters over his bottom lip. I’m not one to hit a woman but it takes Tiny and James to keep me from twisting the pink haired bitch dancer’s head off.

“Not a party until shit gets broken,” I hear Tiny’s voice through my rage as he pulls me up, panting and growling and then leans next to my ear. “Dude, get it together. What the fuck is going on with you? You’re sister looks scared shitless. Chill, man.”

Anger pulses through me as the trio of girls and the three patrons are picked up by the wait staff. My father shoots me a ‘what the fuck’ look but the only thing that stops me from pounding the rest of their heads into the floor is Lula.

The look of fear and horror on her face stops me cold.

She is scared.

Of me.

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