Page 96 of My Girl
“Are you ready to accept it?” I ask.
She squints her eyes, and I chuckle, then I carry her across the bedroom to her bathroom mirror. I shove my hand down the front of her thong, the other hand clutching her throat, forcing her to face our reflection. My head leans against hers, and in my boots, I’m taller than her, like her masked killer, but the face is Officer Gaines.
She pants, her mouth hanging open, lust hazy in her eyes. I’m everything she hates and everything she wants, andfuck,my dick gets hard knowing how it gets under her skin.
“No,” she whispers. “No, no, no?—”
In the mirror, she sneers at me, her teeth bared.
I lick her cheek. “My little girl knows she’s mine, doesn’t she?”
She quivers, her body reacting to what she knows she shouldn’t want. But my little girl can’t help it.
“I don’t want you,” she says.
“You do.” I breathe into her neck, nuzzling into her. “You like knowing that your daddyknowshe shouldn’t want you too. He knows he should let you go. He knows he shouldn’t be following you for years. But you like that he can’t help himself. Isn’t that right?” She shivers against me, pushing her ass into my cock. My length strains against her, eager to be inside of her. “I told myself I was waiting for the perfect time to kill you, but as soon as I saw how much you liked watching people die, I knew you needed my help. I knew you needed the encouragement to try it for yourself. A daddy always helps his little girl shine.”
She trembles. “Don’t?—”
“Don’twhat?” I snarl, curling a finger into her slit as I choke her, forcing her to watch her mirrored face as she loses oxygen. Her cheeks tint pink, then red, then purple. “Tell me, little girl. Tell me what you want. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop right now.”
I keep her locked in my arms, but I let go of her neck, giving her the ability to breathe.
“Tell me to stop,” I repeat.
She squirms in my arms, her jaws snapping over her shoulder. She misses. Her juices slide down my fingers.
“Say it,” I demand.
“Fuck you.”
“Funny, isn’t it? You won’t tell me to stop,” I say in a low voice. She stills, hanging onto my words. “Deep down in that fucked-up little brain of yours, youlikethat I worship your pussy. You like that I’m a killer. That I bring you bloody presents. That I hide behind a mask. You like knowing that I am your fucking father, because it means I’ve always been here, always watching you. You like knowing that you’re mine. And I’ll be fucking dead before I let go of you.”
“I hate you,” she whispers harshly, a tear running down her face.
“Then tell me to leave. Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me to stop, little girl. Tell your daddy how best to love you,” I mock. “And if that means you want me to go away, I’ll listen, baby, like a good daddy should.”
She shakes violently; the words don’t come out. I shove another finger inside of her. Another tear. A delicious fucking tear. My tongue licks it up, tasting her salt, her skin, her trashy makeup. Her own disguise she wears so proudly for the world. But a mask like that won’t hide her from me.
“So fucking wet for me,” I say. “Your tears. Your cunt. Your brain can scream ‘no’ all it wants, but your sweet little pussy always says ‘yes’ to me.”
“I hate you.”
“You hate yourself. You hate that you still want me. Even as Officer Gaines. As your father. All I need to do is put on a mask, and you could pretend that I’m your dream man. Ain’t that right, baby?” I change my voice to that husky tone I put on as Crave: “How does it feel, little girl? Knowing that I’m everything you hate.”
I let go of her pussy and grab a knife from my pocket. I flick it open and hold it to her neck.
“Would it make you feel better if I wore a mask?” I tease in my gravelly, masked killer voice. Blood pools at the cut, and she whimpers into me.
“Crave,” she says.
“Daddy,” I correct. “Say it for me.”
She sobs uncontrollably, still thrusting her ass onto my cock, begging me to take her.
“Crave, please,” she whines.
“No, baby,” I murmur. I taste her blood, that acrid, metallic substance slipping over my tongue, filling me with power. Euphoria washes over me in a blinding heat. Blood. Our shared blood. “Say it for me now,” I whisper. “Call me by my real name.”
