You should feel the cum soaking my panties, dripping past to seep into my hose.
You should see my carat the bottom of the fucking pond.
What the fuck was he going to do to me if I didn’t lie and say he was just a normal 22-year-old?
“Not a psychopath,” I said, my throat feeling dry.
Would it be too suspicious to take a massive drink of water?
“He just had a lack of mental stimulation in college. In retrospect, perhaps a more arduous major would have been beneficial.”
“That’s a good point,” Lucian put in.
Oh, Ihatedthat look on his face. I had been fooled by his Dean of the College of Arts & Sciences face into thinking he had some kind of strength, but he was nothing but a weakling.
“Are you sure? This is a matter of extreme delicacy. If Mr. Descoteaux is at all a diagnosed psychopath or sociopath we do not want him playing on our team.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”
Gabriel leaned back in his chair and I saw the outline of his massive dick in his suit pants.
“Thank you, Dr. Lindeth. I feel like under your care I am developing a healthy, non-toxic masculinity.”
I wanted to fuckingstranglehim, if I thought he’d have done anything but laugh and let me, until his cock got so hard he’d return the favor.
“Well, I think that’s all we need to see,” one of the suits said with barely disguised glee.
He reached across the table and shook Gabriel’s hand.
“Welcome to the Steelheads. “Can’t wait to see you play on opening day.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
“So sorry to hear about all the recent tragedies,” one of the management put in as they all headed out the door.
Was it my imagination or was Branby almost grinning?
Sick fucker.
“We hope the perpetrator will be found soon,” Lucian said with his smooth, bureaucratic smile. “The police are considering it might be a backpacker who has been camping out in the woods somewhere.”
A backpacker?
I didn’t think it was likely that a backpacker would stow a body in the Ashgrove Manor farmhouse. . .
“You wanted to disobey, didn’t you?” Gabriel’s silky gravel voice growled in my ear as he held me back from the group. “But you resisted. What a good little mama.”
His hand was on my lower belly, rubbing it with an obscene parody of domestic tenderness.
“I’m already pregnant with your father’s baby,” I hissed back.
He snorted.
“Please, my father couldn’t possibly keep up with you. He’s fucking 55. He has old-ass sperm. He couldn’t give you a baby. I’m 22. I’m going to keep you pregnant until I’m ready to stop.”
“But I don’twanta baby.”
“Remind me where the fuck I asked you what you wanted?” he asked, gripping me tightly against him so I could feel the heated threat of his cock on my back.
