Page 51 of Own

HESTER

Several Months Later.

“Th-they’ll b-b-be here s-s-soon,” I pant, my back against the storage room door while Cato kneels in front of me, my skirt covering his head, lapping at my pussy again. Pregnancy has been an emotional rollercoaster. Now that I’m in the second trimester, the morning sickness has mostly subsided, and all I want lately is double fudge brownie ice cream with hot sauce or orgasms.

“Give Daddy an orgasm first.” He grunts, my legs shake, and I swear the man can demand one from me, and it just happens. It starts out slow this time, rolling through my belly and blossoming between my legs as my heart pounds furiously.

Biting my lip, I attempt to soften my keening moan, but that doesn’t satisfy my Daddy; he bites my clit until I gasp and cry out. “Daddy,” I whine through my teeth, grip his hair in my hands, and hold him tight. His chuckle vibrates through me, making my toes curl until I can’t breathe again.

Gently, he leaves little kisses before standing up with me wrapped around him. His cock drags through my sensitive lips, then pushes into my still-pulsing hole until he’s lodged in my body.

“Goddamn, that’s some good pussy,” he groans in my ear. This man has an obsession that can’t be beat. Always eager to link us together, and I can’t complain since I feel the same way. “You’re always soaking wet and greedy for Daddy’s cock too.” He’s pinned me to the door with his hips, then brushes the hair off my face. “You please Daddy so much, kitten.”

Leaning forward, I press my lips to his and whisper, “F-f-fuck me, Daddy.” I still stutter; my therapist says it likely won’t ever go away, but she says it’s not impossible one day. I keep the hope alive, but I don’t dwell on it too hard as the days go by.

“Anything my good girl wants.” Nipping my lip, he fucks his tongue into my mouth and moves his hips. He pounds out his desire for me and accepts mine for him as our mouths make love and our hips fuck. He’s spent months teaching me the difference, and I couldn’t tell you which I like more.

“Oh, oh, th-th-there, Daddy!” It’s the perfect angle for hitting every pleasure spot, and soon I explode around him again, tumbling over a cliff into oblivion as bliss rolls across my skin and through my veins. Taking me to a plane where only we exist.

His grunting and growling grow stronger, and when he slams in so hard that my back hits the door with a thud, I feel him throb and pulse inside me. It’s the sweetest feeling, knowing I can bring him that kind of pleasure. “Kitten, one day, you’re going to kill me with this pussy.”

Panting, I smile, shut my eyes, and say, “But Daddy, w-w-who w-would fill me up th-then?”

Slamming his palm against the door next to my ear, he growls, “Don’t even fucking think about it.” He wraps his fingers loosely around my throat, tilts my head, and waits until I open my eyes. “I’ll come back from the grave and rip him apart. Limb from fucking limb. Any man who is not one of our sons, I’ll fucking slaughter them. Do you understand me, Hester?”

I rub my hands up and down his chest to soothe his beast. He’s dead serious. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like that. “Yes, Daddy. I’m only yours forever, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Licking at the seam of my lips, I open for him so he can use me as he likes. “Tonight, you’ll show me just how good you are and let Daddy have some ass.” Gnawing on my lip, I fight to squash my excitement. I realize he means it as a threat, but god, I love when he takes me there.

Shaking his head, he emits a low chuckle as he helps me to my feet and straightens my clothes before fixing his own. “D-do I l-l-look okay?”

Yesterday was one of the few times McKenna picked up the kids on her scheduled days and had them overnight. Cato hadn’t lied when he told her everything would be supervised, and it took a while to find a third party willing to do that overnight.

“You’re perfect.” He quickly drops a kiss on my lips before opening the door.

McKenna has been extremely resistant to me being in the kids’ lives, especially since she learned they call me Mom. Once, I even tried suggesting to Cato that maybe they shouldn’t until she was more accepting of me, but he shut that down so fast I had whiplash.

Checking the time, I notice there are five more minutes until the library opens. Chelsea has been slowly returning to work, only putting in a few hours a day, three days a week, but today she has a follow-up doctor’s appointment. Thankfully, her injury has no lasting effects.

Cato strides to the front doors and unlocks them while I get the sign for outside, advertising story time this morning. The city has appointed me to a more senior role, and now I get to do things as I please. I’m sure a lot of that is based on the funding my husband provides for the library, but I don’t mind. Each week more kids join us, and that’s what I want.

Today is special because Scarlett has asked to lead story time with one of her favorite books, Rapunzel.

“Here they come,” I whisper, watching the three of them walk towards the building. Scarlett is pure excitement, but Nate appears subdued and distant.

“Mommy!” Scarlett shouts as soon as she’s through the front doors, offering Cato only a wave as she runs past him straight to me. I don’t miss McKenna’s scowl as she hears her daughter's call for me.

“Missed you.” I scoop her up into my arms, earning myself a warning look from my husband because I shouldn’t be picking her up. “Story time is waiting for you to set up.” I wink at her, and she nods, but I can see in her eyes that something is bothering her. I won’t bring it up until we’re home, which she’ll probably be ready to tell me on her own by then.

“You can’t encourage that,” McKenna orders once Scarlett is setting up in the reading corner. “You’re not her mother.”

I bite my tongue, refusing to engage in argument with her because it only makes things worse for the kids.

Cato is speaking with the supervisor, Nate glued to his side, and when the boy turns his head to look outside, I see red. Fury like anything I’ve ever felt erupts through my veins like lava.

“What did you do to him?” I hiss. He has fingerprints on his neck, too small to be a man’s, too large to be a child’s, which leaves one option.

“Excuse me?” She pales, implicating herself.