Daddy's Little Angel

13

His POV-

I returned back to the place where I grew up, the darkest days of my life still hung in the air like dust. Every wall here screams. Screams of crying, growling, beating of my father. Every sunday a maid came here cleaning the place but I didn't come until the thoughts came. The forbidden one, the killing intends. I could have killed that man for looking at my girl, but I left him– I left him consumed by the ache of looking at who would never be his.

I grabbed a bottle of bourbon from my private bar, and went to the basement, a place of my private escape. Above the world it wore a mask of power and wealth. Below, the truth lingered the hidden, twisted fantasies I found in my 20s, the darkest one that was being discovered after my father’s death.

The stairs creaked, leading me to a maze of rooms, each one a secret I kept from the world. I pushed open the door to the one I needed, the dark room, bathed in red light, the walls plastered with photos of Alina. Nude shots, stolen moments.

I’d paid a fortune, secretly hired most of the people to get my job done, putting the hidden cameras all around her house, her bathroom, to get her body bare and perfect, her curves glowing under the crimson glow. Her t**s, her ass, the way her thighs parted just enough to drive me insane. I shouldn’t have them, shouldn’t want her like this, but f**k, she was under my skin, and this room was my confession.

I wanted to mark every inch of her skin, to write my name across her bare body like a warning, a claim. so that every time she thinks of someone else who isn't me, she could feel it, the memory of my touch, my presence inside her skin.

I stripped off my shirt, my pants, letting them hit the floor, my c**k already throbbing as I stood in the red haze. The air was thick, heavy with my obsession, and I sank into the leather chair in the centre, the bourbon bottle cold in my hand. I took a swig, the burn fueling my need, and wrapped my hand around my d**k, stroking slowly at first.

I stared at her photos, her lips parted, her eyes half closed, like she was begging for my c**k. I imagined her here, on her knees, sucking me off like a b***h, her tongue licking my tip, her throat taking me deep until I came in her dirty mouth.

“f**k, Alina,” I groaned, my voice echoing in the dark, my hand moving faster as I pictured bending her over, f*****g her p***y hard, her ass bouncing with every thrust, her moans filling the room.

My mind went wild, seeing her spread on the floor, her legs open, her cunt wet and ready as I f****d her senseless, her nails clawing my back, her screams begging for more.

I wanted to lick her c**t, taste her, make her c*m until she was shaking, then f**k her again, my c**k buried deep as she milked me dry. The photos stared back, her body taunting me, and I jerked harder, my balls tightening, the bourbon bottle slipping to the floor as I came, my c*m spilling hot and messy, the red light casting shadows over her images, each one a knife in my chest.

I took another swig, the bottle nearly empty, my head swimming with booze and guilt. She was too young, too reckless, and I was too f****d to have her. But this room held every dirty thought I couldn’t have said out loud. I didn’t clean up, didn’t move, just let the alcohol pull me under, my eyes heavy as I stared at her photos, her body burned into my brain. I passed out there, naked in the red glow, dreaming of her lips on my c**k, her p***y clenching around me, knowing I’d wake up still wanting her, still trapped in this hell of my own making.

The red room spun in a haze of bourbon and c*m stained fantasies, Alina’s nude photos staring down at me like accusing ghosts. I was naked, sprawling down on my leather chair, my d**k lip and sticky from jerking off. The darkness clung to me, thick and twisted, my obsession a black hole sucking me in. My phone buzzed like a goddamn alarm, cutting through the fog. I groaned, fumbling for it on the floor, my head pounding from the booze. It was Jax, one of my old crew, his voice loud and slurred when I answered.

“Yo, Ryan, you piece of s**t, get your ass over here,” Jax barked, the background a mess of laughter and clinking bottles. “We’re smoking some prime weed, got whiskey flowing like c*m. Everyone’s here, me, the boys, even Simon. Come on, man, don’t be a pussy.”

“f**k off, Jax,” I muttered, my voice rough, the room tilting as I sat up. “I’m already drunk off my ass, passed out in my own hell. Not in the mood for your shitty party.”

Jax laughed, that annoying crackle. “Bullshit. Parker. Everyone’s here, I said. Simon’s got the stories that will make your d**k hard. Insist, man, get over here before we smoke it all without you.” He paused, then added, “Everyone’s asking about you. Don’t flake.”

Simon, the name hit me like a gut punch. Alina's friend Emma’s step-brother. Emma, with her dirty mouth and bad influence, hanging around Alina was like a virus. I had already warned Simon but her friend was clinging on to my girl. If Simon was there, Emma’s influence could be eliminated. Alina was mine to protect, even if it meant dragging my obsessed ass out.

“Fine,” I growled. “I’m coming. But keep the weed lut.”

I dragged myself out, the red light casting bloody shadows on Alina’s photos.

I drove off to the spot, it was Jax’s warehouse, loft, a dingy hellhole reeking of weed and sweat, red bulbs flickering like my basement room.

The air was thick with smoke, bodies slumped on couches, bottles everywhere. Jax slapped on my back, shoving a joint in my hand. “There he is, the king of f****d up deals. Hit this, man, its killer.” I inhaled deep, the weed burning my lungs, mixing with the bourbon still churning in my gut.

We drank whiskey shots that hit like fire, and the room spun darker, conversations turned to girls, drugs, drinks.

“This weed’s got me hard as f**k,” one guy lauged. “Makes me wanna f**k anything that moves.”

Simon was there, leaning against the wall, his eyes bloodshot, a beer in hand. We were business partners with shady deals in imports, the kind that kept us rich and dirty.

He nodded at me, smirking. “Parker, you look like s**t. Rough night chasing young p***y again?” We clinked bottles, the talk flowing easy at first, drugs we’d scpred, drinks that knocked us out, girls we’d f****d.

“Remember that b***h last month?” Simon said, exhaling smoke. “Sucked my c**k like a vacuum, then begged for more. Young ones are the wildest.”

I nodded, but my mind was on Emma. I pulled Simon aside,the weed making my words sharp, “Hey, keep an eye on your step-sister, man. Emma’s in bad company, pulling herself into s**t. She’s a bad influence, and could drag others down.”

Simon laughed, his eyes narrowing. “f**k you talking about, Ryan? Emma’s fine. You’re the one obsessed with young girls. Bet you jerk off to that little smut’s photos every night, you creepy f**k,”

The words hit me like a blade, the dark room closing in. “Shut your mouth, Simon. You don’t know s**t. I know bitches like Emma.”

He stepped closer, reeking of weed. “Huh? Bullshit. You are a pervert, Parker, lusting after kids, admit it, you wanna f**k Alina’s tight p***y, don’t you? Obsessed prick.”

Rage boiled up, black and ugly. “You wanna talk about obsession? Your own step-sister Emma’s got a crush on you, you dumb f**k. She wants your d**k, dreams about sucking you off, riding her step-bro like a w***e and you also have sick fantasies for your step sister. That’s f****d up, Simon, taboo s**t right in your house”

His face twisted, eyes wide with shock and fury. “You lying bastard! I don't have any sick fantasies about my step sister and don't drag Emma into your sick fantasies,” He swung at first, his fist cracking my jaw, pain exploding like fire. I lunged back, tackling him to the floor, fists flying, punching his gut, his face blood smearing on the floor. He was also clearly obsessed with his sister but clearly this bastard won't admit it. I heard him talking about her ass when he was drunk and clearly wasted.

“You motherfucker!” I roared, my knuckles splitting. “I will end our deal, break everything!” He headbutted me, stars bursting, and we rolled, choking each other, the darkness swallowing us. Our friendship cracked, the business hanging by a thread.

Jax jumped in, pulling us apart, his hands strong. “Whoa, fuckers, calm this s**t down! You’re both wasted, weed, booze, talking crap. Simon, Ryan’s just pissed. Ryan, Simon’s teasing. Sit your asses down, smoke anther joint and shut the f**k up.” He shoved us onto couches, forcing beers into our hands.

The room went quiet, tension thick, but we cooled off, glaring but silent. The fight hung in the air, dark and unresolved, my jaw throbbing, blood on my shirt. I took a drag, the weed dulling the edge.