In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
Stephanie: Paris can Everett have his birthday party at yours? Maybe you can cook? He says he doesn't want a party this year with the baby coming and all, but we're not listening to him.
Paris: Sure, let me just ask Reagan first.
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SHE'S AMBROSIA ON MY taste buds and like the worst kind of drug with just one taste I'm hooked. I look down at her and she's staring up at me with flushed cheeks and a wide shocked look in her eyes. I don't know why she's so surprised, she shouldn't be. I've wanted to taste her since she touched herself for me sitting on the kitchen counter. I take my fingers out of my mouth and press them at her lips and without prompting she opens her mouth and sucks like the good girl she is. My chest squeezes seeing her so pliant and willing to please, so willing to serve.
"Reagan,"
"Mm?"
"How's was that?"
"I don't think I can walk, how's that for an answer?" her voice has that sleepy, sated drag to it and it makes me want to throw her on her back and make her come again, this time with her hands in my hair and my head between her legs. "Hey, Paris?"
"Yes, love?"
"You didn't, I mean, what about you?" when I look down I find her staring at the tattoo she likes on my neck, her teeth sinking into that pouty lips of hers and a frown pulling at her eyebrows.
"This wasn't about me love, this was about you, and trust me when I say that I completely enjoyed myself. And later when am alone and I have my hand around my cock, the only thing that'll make me come is remembering the sound my pretty little submissive makes when I tip her over the edge. Now, come on let's go get that food I took you away from,"
"So, what's it like being a pediatrician?" she asks, sitting cross-legged on a kitchen stool while I lean back on the counter and watch her eat. Knowing that it's something I made brings me more pleasure than it probably should. She raises her eyebrows as she waits for me to answer her question, oblivious to the power she holds over me, eclipsing every single fantasy I ever had of what my perfect submissive would be like. I've been weak for this girl since the moment I first saw her and it's wrong. She's my friend's daughter and there's an age gap, and she's still in school and I'm wrong for wanting to keep her. Making her my submissive is a bad idea. This is a bad idea, but unfortunately, my cock doesn't give a shit.
"It's like being an entertainer and a doctor all rolled into one, and sometimes it's challenging but it's never not rewarding and I can't see myself doing anything else. She tilts her head to the side as she contemplates my response.
"And what about that foundation you volunteer help to? What's it like doing that? Six months every year right? That's what you said," There's an eager look in her eyes as she waits for me to answer her, her hair long and wild as it drapes around her face and shoulders. I'm surprised that she remembers I mentioned this.
