Long chapter...get the popcorn...😈😌
{•Unedited•}
~Idris's POV~
Sitting under the waiting room in this damn therapy facility, my knees bounce up and down. It's too damn quiet in this place. The wall up to the office was like entering a fucking mental hospital; at first that's what I straight up thought this was since it's not on the first floor. I was like "Damn, Bex really referred me into a loony bin." Taking my phone out, I open up my messages and text Vina back.
Wife♥️: Are you there?
Me: Yeah...I thought your mom was putting me into a mental hospital.
Wife♥️: That was her first idea.
The door opens and enters an old woman, maybe in her late seventies, walks in. She looks around for second before coming towards the seat beside me. "You're a handsome young man," the old lady says, sitting down. I give her a small smile, the compliment making me uncomfortable.
"Thank you, ma'am," I tell her politely. Her eyes drop down my arms, the expression on her face immediately becoming judgmental looking at my tattoos.
"Too bad all those tattoos take away from the good looks. Your poor future wife's gonna be married to a walking coloring book," she says. The tone of her voice somehow still manages to remain so sweet like she's saying something nice. Turning my body towards her, a bit of excitement courses through me thinking about triggering this woman.
"My current wife loves this walking coloring book. She don't have a problem with putting a few rips in the pages either," I say, rolling up my sleeves to show the cuts left from Vina's scratches the other night. She lets out a horrified gasp. "Have a nice day, ma'am," I tell her as I get up and move seats across the room.
It's not long until my name is called by the blonde nurse at the front desk. Standing up, I tuck my phone in my pocket on the way to the door where she opens it from the inside. She gives me a once over, her cheeks glowing bright pink. The corners of her glossy lips lift into a flirtatious smile. I don't mean to sound conceited, but you can feel when someone's being obvious about checking you out.
"Idris Massimo for Dr.Arden?" She asks softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. I nod, following her down the hall. She stares more up at me than she does in front of her. She stops in front of a door labeled 'A-6.' "I-I know it's unprofessional of me, but...my shift is done in an hour. After your done with Mrs.Arden maybe we can go get a drink?" She asks.
My face heats up at her question. I haven't been approached like this in god knows how long I'm not used to it anymore. If I'm being honest, it's a horrible feeling. Holding up my hand, her blue eyes lock on my wedding band.
"Sorry, but I don't think my wife would be very happy with me if I did that," I tell her. She gives me a disappointed smile, her shoulders slumping. Opening the door, a middle aged woman with brown hair and blonde highlights sits in a chair in front a small couch. There's a shirt black table between the two seats with a vase full of red roses. A long desk is in the back corner with a computer, books, and some pictures frames. Above her chair on the wall is a collage of photos with who I assume is her husband and daughter.
"Your three o'clock is here," the short blonde next to me tells her. She looks up with a smile, her hair falling in front of her face from the neat bun on top of her head. Something about her looks strangely familiar but I can't place it off the top of my head.
"Please, sit," she says, gesturing to the couch. I walk over and sit down like asked, clasping my hands on my lap. "Thank you, Sierra." The blonde nods at her before walking out, giving me one last look. "I'm Dr.Arden. You're here for anger management correct? I didn't have time to look over your file before you came in."
"Yeah, I'm Idris Massimo," I tell her. She nods, picking up the pink notepad on the table and purple pen. What the hell is it that's so familiar about her?! I have to stop myself from staring too hard at her.
"So I specialize more in the deal with it aspects of things, it's never my intention to make you get too inside of your head. My main intention is to show you ways and help cope with your emotions." This is fucking ridiculous. I feel like a five year old sitting in a kindergarten classroom. "What is it that finally made you realize it's time to work on yourself?"
"My wife left me after I practically became emotionally abusive. I was dealing with my daughter's mother at the time so it was hard managing everything and the stress got to me. Little things would set me off way more than they should have. I would start going off, saying shit I don't even mean," I explain. For someone who's trying to make me "not get inside my head" these questions are making me think too much about the memories behind the words. Her pen moves along the notepad until her green eyes lift back to mine.
"What did you tell her?" She asks. My face heats up with embarrassment. Is that what the point of this is? To show you how to stupid and embarrassing your actions have been so you don't repeat them?
"My wife has autism, so as you can guess-"
"You were an asshole and picked at that?" My eyes widen. She tilts her head to the side, raising her brows in question. I take in a deep breath, nodding.
"She told me a long time ago before we were married that her worst fear was me getting tired of dealing with it, with her. Which obviously, I love my wife with all my heart, nothing about her being autistic or not being able to look me in the eye has ever bothered me; but I acted like it did that night."
She nods along with what I say, I can tell trying her best not to make any facial expressions. I'm a fucking asshole, I KNOW ALREADY!
"What did you do to make it up to her? Have you guys worked through your problems since this happened?"
"For the most part we have, this is the main thing she asked for. If it makes her happy with me and not want to date my boss instead it's what I'll do," I tell her. Her brows pull together, lips parting in shock. "Yeah, boss. That's another story though and a cause of one of the fights." She clears her throat, writing down more. Standing up, she walks to her desk and grabs a piece of paper from her printer. As she walks her hair whips around to her back. It catches my attention more than it should for some reason.
"Take this piece of paper and I want you crumble it up," she says, handing it to me and sitting back down. Looking at the paper, the corner of my mouth tilts upwards into a grin. This is so fucking stupid. Sitting out in the parking lot eating Burger King was a better idea and just saaaying I went. Sighing, I start crumbling it up into a ball in my fist. "Now flatten that paper out."
"What?" I ask.
"Flatten it out."
"This is ridiculous," I say, uncrumbling the paper. Setting it on the table, I flatten it out with my hands. I feel her eyes burning into me, making me glance up. She snaps her eyes away, writing again in her the polka dotted notepad. I gesture to the paper once finished. She looks over the vase and cringes at the sight of the wrinkled sheet.
"Tell it your sorry," she instructs me. My brows raise. Is this woman insane? She wants me to apologize to a fucking piece of paper!? She's the one who seems to need therapy, mental therapy.
"I'm not saying sorry. It's a piece of fucking paper."
"Do you see those lines though? They aren't gone just because you tried fixing it. Did you tell your wife you were sorry?" She asks. I nod. "Then tell the paper your sorry."
"I don't give a fuck about the paper though."
"Just tell the damn thing you're sorry!" She says, loosing her patience with me. She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest. Chewing on the inside of my cheek I clear my throat.
"I'm sorry...paper." She rolls her eyes, my own facial expression flashing before my eyes. I shake it off, knowing I didn't get enough sleep last night.
"Now are the wrinkles gone?" I shake my head. "Neither are those cuts you left in your wife from the things you told her. You hurt the paper without knowing what you were doing and even after you tried fixing it it's not the same as it was before. That's what happens when you say things before you think about what you're saying. Your words leave marks on those you love, her especially."
I pick up the piece of paper, turning it over. Taking a deep breath, my shoulders slump. "Or it's because I don't give a shit about this paper. She's moved on from it already. We fight, I apologize through rough sex, and she forgives me." Her eyes widen as she looks down at her notes.
"You sound like him too," she says under her breath. I don't think she meant for it to be said out loud because as soon as she realizes what she says she looks back up. "Sorry. I'm just finding it a little difficult to remain professional, you look a lot like someone I used to know. Remind me of him too."
"Must have been a real dream boat."
"I hated him."
"Oh." She sighs, rubbing her hand over her knee. On her face is an expression saying she's not here, but somewhere in her mind.
"He was an emotionally abusive asshole who got me hooked on alcohol and drugs." Personal much?
"I'm sorry about that...I guess. It sounds to me like you're the one who needs a therapist." Her eyes squint at me, leaning forward a little.
"What did you say your last name was again, sir?" She asks, closing her eyes for a second. My eyes snap around the room uncomfortably to avoid eye contact with this woman who stares at me intensely. I was right, she's the one in need of therapeutic help.
"Massimo. Idris Massimo," I tell her like I did when I first came in. She lets out a noise like sounds like I've knocked the wind out of her. My body tenses. "Does...does that last name mean anything to you?" She sits back, looking at me like she's going to be sick. Her skin has paled about four shades.
"It used to mine," she says. "I-I had a son," she says, her eyes filling with tears. I rub my clammy hands together nervously. "His name was Idris." Now it's just turn to be in shock. That's why she's so fucking familiar looking to me. My throat tightens, not because I'm sad or happy to see this woman, but because I'm pissed off.
"My moms dead." She shakes her head, standing up from her chair. She takes her phone out of her pocket and starts swiping and going through god knows what. A minute or two pass until she shoves the screen in my face, showing me the image of a little boy, maybe four years old, sitting on her lap. She looks sick and nothing like she does now; now her face is full along with the rest of her body. Her hair is thicker and brighter in color and there's life in her eyes which she lacks in this image. That little boy lacks that life too. That's me.
"I need to know you're not kidding about your n-"
"How the hell would I know what your son's name was to come here and fake being him? I thought-I've thought you were fucking dead since I was six!" I yell, my voice accidentally cracking at the end. Again, it's not cause I'm sad. I'm not fucking sad, I'm pissed. This fucking bitch was alive all these years and never once thought about me. Obviously, I don't care about it now but thinking of the shit I went through as a kid it's fucked up she just up and left me with that monster.
Her hand covers her mouth. "You look so much like him-"
"Don't fucking compare me to him!" I snap. She flinches at the sound of my voice, her brows raising.
"Anger management; I asked him a million times to do it but he never would," she says, her jaw shaking. I push myself up by my knees, running my fingers through my hair hair. "Please tell me you didn't do any drugs...?"
"But Momma, I wanted to be like Dadda," I say sarcastically. "You have no right to ask me questions. Where the fuck have you been?" I ask. She looks down shamefully, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't give a shit, but I deserve to know where you left off to. You cleaned yourself up clearly while I was getting thrown from house to house and getting fucked up on drugs."
"Don't blame me for that. You're exactly like your father," she says with a short laugh. What a lovely fucking reunion this is.
"You don't know shit about me. Don't ducking compare me to him!" I snap. She gets up and crosses her arms.
"One appointment where you're so fucked up that I got two appointments worth of information. He couldn't control his mouth when he was angry either," she says, crossing her arms. This is too fucking much. I came in here in a bad enough mood.
"Whatever. I'll be finding a new therapist," I say. My entire life I've been without a mother, even when she was around, I don't need or want her here now. Knowing she's alive doesn't change anything. She grabs my wrist just as I turn turns the door. Sighing, her shoulders lower.
"I'm sorry," she says. "This is just...this is a lot. I've left everything from that man behind me." I scuff, rolling my head back.
"Clearly, including you're six year old son at the time." She wipes away a tear from her cheek.
"I know, I'm sorry but everything at that time was wrong. You think I just forgot about you? I never thought to try making contact because I figured you were better off." She was right for the most part. But now I'm wondering what would have happened if she had taken me with her. Everything would probably be different. She didn't leave far from that fucking town if she's here, but it was enough to separate herself. "I want to get to know my son."
"Fuck you-"
"Please! I know I fucked up and I was rude, I'm sorry. Your father hurt me, I needed to get away and I promise I believed you'd be better off without me. If I thought I would have been a good mother I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat away from that man." Her tear filled eyes search mine. She reaches up her hand, placing it on my stubbled cheek. I flinch away from the contact, grabbing her wrist and throwing it back to her side. "Please. No matter how upset with me you are I'm still your mother. Don't you want to have some kind of relationship?"
"I'm not upset, I don't give a fuck for the most part. I'm just in shock. You aren't worth getting upset over. You're just a stranger to me."
"I'm your mother; you're my son. Let me fix what I did," she says, placing her hands on her chest. I can't help but laugh.
"There's nothing broken to fix. I've healed from what I've been through and you had nothing to do with that. I went to prison for five years and did drugs, yes, but I also grew up. I graduated high school still, met a beautiful girl, got my license in automotive science and engineering, got married. I have a daughter and another baby on the way, and a...I don't know what the fuck he is yet but he feels something like a son to me. You had nothing to do with that shit, so don't go calling yourself my mom."
She looks at me speechless me, her mouth hung open. Grabbing the door knob, I swing it open and stomp out of the room. It clicks shut softly behind me despite my hard thrust at it to shut. The blonde that led me back here stands in front the door.
"Done already?" She asks curiously. I look down at the watch on my wrist. Damn, that was only thirty minutes. Forcing a smile, I tilt my head to the side.
"Turns out therapy just isn't for me," I tell her with a shrug. She bends over the desk next to her, grabbing a pink pen and writing a series of numbers down on paper and ripping it off. Handing it to me, I hesitantly take it between my fingers.
"Call me," she says with a flirtatious smile. Did this woman miss the part earlier where I literally showed her my wedding ring?
"I'm married." She chuckles, looking around herself real quick.
"And I'm a nurse, two useless details that don't matter. Unless you want do some role play and I can fix you up," she says, drawing down the front of her white shirt to expose her cleavage. I'll admit, she's a pretty girl but nowhere near that sexy goddess I call my wife.
"I need to get home," I tell her, reaching behind her and opening the door. Putting my phone in my pocket I walk out, keeping my head down in the waiting room lobby. The old lady still sitting in the same spot waiting to be called sticks her foot out just as I walk past her, sending me tumbling to the ground. Groaning, I look to see her faking a shocked expression.
"Are you okay?" She asks, faking concern. I push myself up, dusting my hands using my knees. Flipping my hair back I let out a deep breath.
"See you in hell, old hag."
•••••••
~Vina's POV~
This entire day has been a new experience. I guess it's the first time I've ever actually "played mommy" to Ez. While Idris went to his first anger management therapy session I offered to watch her since I would be home with Cass anyways. My dad came over for a little bit to "meet the boy my mom had been talking so much" about and immediately took a liking to Cass. It's also the most I've seen Cass communicate with someone. When explaining the situation, I could see the anger bubble up inside my fathers eyes.
Nothing has changed with Sin. I don't know what Val told him after the other day when I went over there; I haven't asked Idris if he's brought it up. He hasn't been demanding about it though which I've taken as a good sign.
"Close your eye," Ez tells Cass, slapping her hand down on his forehead. He flinches, glaring up at her briefly. She has my makeup set to the side of her as he lash on his back. She sits on her knees next to his head, painting the pink eyeshadow over his tan eyelid. Sitting on hen couch, I tuck my legs under me and watch as they bond. I'm happy they get along good.
"You're stabbing it!" He complains, whipping his hand up and covering the eye she's trying to put makeup on.
"No, I'm not! You're just acting weak!" She says, crossing her arms with the brush still between her fingers. Dang. The front door opens, Idris coming in with an upset look on his face. Mentally groaning, I set my feet on the ground and get up. He walks to the kitchen, tossing the keys onto the counter.
"How'd it go?" I ask, already able to tell by his expression. He tilts his head at me, shaking his head. Leaning against the sink counter, he pulls me to him by my waist, looping his fingers through the hoops of my jeans. He burns his face in my neck, brushing my fingers with his hair. Kissing the of my head, he pecks his way over to my necks, tilting my head up by gently grasping my chin between his index finger and thumb.
"I love you," he says, brushing his lips over mine. I flinch away, pressing my lips together.
"I love you too. Cass and Ez are in there," I tell him, nudging to the living room with my head. He nods, glancing their direction. She still has him in the same spot doing his makeup, now moved onto the other eye. He laughs, looking back down at me. "Ez is just like you. Talked my ear off the entire time. Definitely your kid."
"Was there still doubt left?" I shake my head. He chuckles, leaning forward again. Cupping my face in his hands, his calloused thumbs caress my cheeks. My lips move with his, my fingers sinking into his hair. He pulls himself back, hands traveling down to my butt where he grabs a handful, biting his lip as he squeezes. A moan accidentally escapes my mouth, eyes snapping towards the kids to make sure they aren't paying any attention.
"Stop. Not now," I tell him. "And you have to tell me what went wrong too." He nods, letting his arms fall from around me. Pouting, I pick them back up and replace them as they were.
"I didn't say to let go yet," I pout, kissing his bottom lip. The sound of footsteps makes us stop but not let go of each other, just placing my head on his chest. Idris laughs at the sight of Cass with a full face of makeup, bright red lipstick that I never use and pink eyeshadow on his lids. I'll give it to her, it all does look good with his eyes.
"You look like Zav after he finishes an episode of RuPaul'a Drag Race," Idris jokes. I slap his shoulder playfully, finally stepping out of his embrace to check on the food cooking in the oven.
"You're next, Daddy!" She says, tugging his hand to bring him to her makeup station in the living room. He lets her guide him, acting as if he's putting up a struggle. Cass gives me a forced smile, sitting at the island with his arms crossed in front of him.
"You can go take that off if you want now," I tell him. He shakes his head, shrugging his small shoulders.
"She seems proud of her work. I'll leave it for little longer," he says. I smile at the fact that he has no problem wearing makeup for Ez's benefit although he does look uncomfortable. Idris flops down onto the couch.
"What color should I do?" She asks herself out loud. "MOMMA, WHAT COLOR SHOULD I DO?!"
"Green!" I shout back to her. It clicks to me late what she called me, my heart beating fast and hard in my small chest. Spinning around on my heel, Idris and I wear the same surprises expressions but she looks confused.
"What did ask her?" He asks her again. She looks at him weirdly.
"What color I should use?...I'll use green and blue!" She says, shrugging it off. I let out a sigh, my lips curving into a smile. Momma. It's not my place to name myself as that to her. It hasn't even been that long since I've been in the picture, I wouldn't expect her to do this so soon if at all.
"D-Dinners almost done."
••••••
By the end of dinner, both the boys are still wearing their makeup looks that Ez has given them. Cass did try taking his off but once he stepped foot in the bathroom Ez got very offended like he thought she would. I'll admit that it makes me slightly comfortable to sit across from my husband during dinner while he's wearing bright blue and green eyeshadow.
"Come here," he tells me, grabbing my hand. I step over from placing one of the plates in the cabinet. He puckers his pink glossed lips, trying to lean in for a kiss. Dodging his lips, he fake whines. "Give me a kiss, baby!"
"No! You have makeup on!" I giggle. His arms tighten around me.
"So you'll kiss Nanny but not me?" He jokes. I roll my head back which just makes him kiss my neck. I push his head away, hating the way the gloss feels on my skin.
"Ewww! You're sticky and gross!" I cringe, finally breaking away from him. Licking his lips, he looks me up and down.
"That's not what you're going to be saying in a little bit," he says, winking suggestively at me. I roll my eyes, laughing as I return around. He grabs my wrist again, stopping me in my tracks. "I love you so much. Thank you for being the way you are."
••••••
~Idris's POV~
She smiles up at me in response to my compliment, her cheeks glowing pink. She's so cute; I can't wait to have her in the bedroom. Thankfully Ez is already getting her pajamas on and Cass is knocked out in her room in the rocking chair so I can have my way with her early tonight. My fingers run through the long ends of her soft hair.
"And thank you for being a good...momma," I say with a smile. That was shocking, but the look on her face was worth it all. Ez didn't talk to me about that first, it didn't even seem like she realized she did it. "You have no idea. You're so good with Ez and even Cass now....And I'm sorry for not being able to control myself when I'm upset." My words take me by surprise.
"W-what's making you bring this up again?" She asks. Ez jogs out front the hallway, wrapping her arms around me. Bending down I pick her up. She immediately starts brushing my hair back, brows furrowing as she focuses. "I'm gonna go take a shower," Vina tells me, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss my cheek on her way out.
•••••••
After making sure Ez is knocked out, I leave her room and go into mine and Vina's. The water in our bathroom shut off not long ago, the light inside still on. Taking my shoes off I undo the first few buttons of my shirt. I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror. Damn, I really can't mask when I'm upset.
The bathroom door opens, Vina walking out wearing a pair of white shorts, similar looking to boxers, and tank top covered with small red roses, pinched together in the center. It's catch between a bra and top with padded coverage that pushes them up and cream, lace trimming along the top. The light colors on her brown skin make her goddamn irresistible.
"Will you tell me what's wrong now?" She asks, snapping me out of the haze she put me in. Dropping my hands to my sides I lean myself against the wall behind me.
"My therapist...turned out to be mom," I tell her.
"You know I'm not good with sarcasm, I'm taking you seriously-"
"As you should cause I'm not being sarcastic. I went to the fucking appointment and first it was a mean woman in the fucking waiting room being rude about my tattoos, but did say I was very handsome, then I walk into the room and there's a woman who's strangely familiar to me. She got annoyed with me cause I guess I was "being stubborn" about the stupid as stupid ass exercise we were doing-"
"Slow down," she tells me, using my shoulders to help bounce herself up into the counter. My eyes can't help but fall down to her breasts as she hops, getting a quick flash of her nipple.
"I was being stubborn about the stupid paper exercise she was having me do...cause it was very stupid...and she got annoyed over my stubbornness. Triggered some old emotions my amazing father put in her way back when," I continue explaining, this time speaking slower and more clearly. She looks at me silently, her lips pressed together in tight line. Placing her small hand on my arm, her thumb sweets back and forth over the dark ink of my tattoo.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I thought-Well, didn't you think, she was dead all these years?" I nod, running my fingers through my hair. Her fingers fall from my arm to rest on my side, pulling me between her legs as she parts them.
"It was always more of an assumption. I knew she got sick and was in the hospital for a long time but that entire part of my life is hazy. All I know is I never saw her again after she got sick, so I assumed it was the alcohol that killed her."
Not knowing what to do, she pulls me down to her by my arm. They wrap securely around her, burying my face in her neck. Taking a deep breath, the scent of her shampoo invades my nostrils. Her hands clasp behind my neck. Closing my arm, I let myself relax against her.
Turning my head, I press my lips below her ear, pecking soft kisses in a small circle. Although my actions are soft, in me I can feel the anger from earlier start to resurface from talking about it. I wish I didn't even feel mad over this, she's not even worth the anger but I can't seem to help it. Deep down I know, I'm fully aware, that there's now a cut made from her leaving me as a child but I refuse to dwell on it.
She wasn't there for me the way she should have been. Fuck that whole "I couldn't be a good mother" bullshit. A good step in the right direction would have been taking your son away from his abusive father. She was aware that he turned his abuse towards me the nights she was too drunk. Hell, the bitch would sit on the couch sometimes so pissed drunk she would watch with a frozen expression like she was stone, not doing shit but taking sip after sip.
My fingers tighten their grip accidentally on Vina's waist, reacting to the unwelcome memory that I buried long ago. How the fuck can a mother, no matter what, sit back and watch her son be abused? Fuck, right after I'd finally pick myself off the ground I'd be asked to get her another "cold one" from out the fridge. Limping and bloody, I'd force myself in there as their fucking servant waiting for the next round.
Grabbing the back of her head, I pull it back to gain better access of her throat. She lets out a breathless moan as I suck belong her jaw, leaving red patches to later bruise in my wake. Squeezing my eyes shut, my teeth bite down on the skin above her collarbone. Her fingers clench my shirt, trying to tug it down until finding not all the buttons are undone and groaning in annoyance. I grab her wrists, pinning the behind her on the counter so she's leant back. Her chests pops out in our position, her swollen breasts pressed against my chest.
I'm pissed and I'll admit it, hurt. I know you're never supposed to use with your significant other as a distraction or a way of taking your anger out, but it's what I need right now.
"D-Don't leave to many marks. Ez asked m-me what the one on the back of my neck is," she tells me. I can only image that conversation. I suck harder on her skin in protest, telling her I'll do whatever I want with her. She smacks me upside the head, glaring down at me. "You better listen to me, Idris."
"Excuse me?" She tries hardening her state but it's helpless. Letting of her wrists, I wrap both my hands around her neck, from and back to keep her firmly in place. My fingers wiggle around the sides as they tighten, her eyes widening. "I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want with you. I need you to distract myself, and I have you to use just for that."
"Can I touch you?" She asks breathlessly, her voice small as she bites her lip. I let go of her neck, pulling her up by her arms. She slides down the counter, pulling down her shorts by the sides. The panties she wears underneath match the top, the same cream lace popping out on the sides with a triangular section in the front where skin is exposed, a thin band only top. I toss my shirt to the floor, grabbing her by the waist possessively. A lustful growl falls from my lips as she stands up on her tippy toes to kiss my neck. Everything in me wants to pick her up to give her a better advantage but her struggle is adorable.
Moving on, she pecks and licks her way down my chest, her teeth grazing over my right nipple. She's only does this once before and as good as it feels I don't know how I feel about it, still I don't tell her to stop when she bites the other briefly before kissing her way down the center of my stomach. Taking a step back, I place my hand on top of her head to shove her down to her knees.
Quickly undoing my jeans, she tugs the down for me to kick to the side. She brushes her hair back as she teases my cock with her fingertips, grazing it up and down with a feather like touch.
"Don't fucking tease me right now," I tell her, grabbing myself at the base and bringing myself to her lips. She opens her mouth, wrapping her wrap lips around the head and sucking gently. Sucking in a hiss of breath, my hips buck forward into her mouth but she backs up, taking a deep breath. Bending down, I grab the back of her neck and lead her mouth back onto me. Her bright eyes squeeze shut as she struggles to take me as far as I push her. "Look at me!" I tell her through clenched teeth.
She does as told, opening her tear filled eyes. My hips thrust forward into the back of her throat, fucking her mouth as if it's her pussy. Her hands grip my thighs, nails digging into my skin. My dick twitches as I feel myself start to get close to the edge. I pull out and lift her up, placing her back on the counter. I pull down her panties as she undoes strips off her top, letting them fall together. Her arms wrap around my neck, legs spreading to let me in.
"Hold onto me, okay?" I tell her. She nods, pinching her brows together as I push into of her tight walls. She stretches around me, her wetness allowing me to slide in with ease. I rest my hand on the bottom of her stomach as I finish entering my entire length. Her fingers clench my hair into her tight fists. Letting out a shaky breath, I move her closer to the edge of the counter and wrap my arms under her thighs to jerk her forward.
Her head falls back in instant pleasure, gasping loudly. Her long hair falls ball into the sink, hard nipples standing out to me for attention. Bending down, I grope of her breast in my hands while sucking on the other. My thrusts become sloppy, paying for attention to her breasts than pussy. Her fingers comb through my hair, sighing as the bottom her ass meets my thighs.
Flipping my hair back, I pull out and yank her up by her arm. Turning her around, she looks at me through the mirror as I push her over by the small of her back, so her ass is puckered out for me. Every time I'm back here I can see nervousness written all over her face. Placing my hands on her ass, I thrust back inside of her pussy from behind. Her head hangs down, moaning loudly.
Reaching forward, I gather her hair in my hand and pull her head up. "Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch yourself while daddy fucks you from behind," I tell her. She does as told, looking at herself as she pushes herself back into my cock. Her colorful eyes cloud with list, fluttering shit every few seconds. Her pussy clenches around me, sucking me in deeper. I groan loudly, slapping her ass red. My hand leaves a bright red mark on both sides as I hit back and forth, listening to her cries of both pain and pleasure. She flinches forward away from me but smiles, looking up at me through the mirror. "You like getting spanked?"
"Yes, daddy!" she says with a cheesy smile. Leaning over her, I wrap my arm around her neck so I have her in a choke hold and rapidly pump inside her.
"Don't fucking close your eyes, Vina," I tell her. She opens them again, staring into mine for a second out of irritation. The hand that's still holding her hair slides down her back, grabbing her ass and squeezing it as hard as I can. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum, baby."
"Don't stop!" She tells me, her nails scratching at my sides from what she can manage to grab. My hand wraps around her neck, thrusting hard into her a few last times as we both reach our climaxes. Letting my arm fall, she lets her body fall back to the counter as I pull out of her. Grabbing the towel next to the sink, I clean between her legs and help her up. "Did that help at all?" She asks.
"Yes, thank you." She kisses me quickly before bending over to grab out clothes. My phone that was in my pocket falls out. She picks it up, a piece of paper falling back down from it. She gets it before I can, unfolding the paper. Shit, I forgot to throw away the number. "Call me -Sierra," she reads. "Who the hell is Sierra?"
AN: Longgg chapter but 🤪 Poor Idris, these two can never catch a break. But at least they got their ways of coping 😈 Idris has some splainin' to do now with Mrs.Massimo🤣 I really hope you guys enjoyed!
Question: What do you think will happen? How do you feel about Idris's mom?
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