I wrinkled my nose. Those details seemed so….clinical. I knew the manufacturer was simply explaining the basics to the consumer, but there was nothing hot about reading about batteries being sold separately. Luckily, there were more instructions from Jackson with the toy, written in his neat handwriting on a small note attached to the back of the Teaser box.
Lily,
1) Unpack your new toy. I already put batteries in it for you. Don’t just look at it, touch it. Play with it. Get used to the feel of it. Run it slowly over your clit, without turning it on.
2) Think of my hands, my tongue, my cock. Imagine them. Then imagine me between your legs with all of them. Turn on the lowest vibe setting by pressing the little dark pink button on the remote attached to the base, then close your eyes.
3) Put the toy on your nipples first, then move it down to your clit. Keep your eyes closed and your mind on me.
4) Come for me. On the toy. Don’t pull it away—cover it in your juices, but don’t put it inside yourself. I want to be the first one inside you. I’ll know if you break this rule, Lily. If you do, there will be consequences…
5) Bring the toy straight to me afterwards. I’ll be waiting.
- Your new Daddy….
I pushed up my skirt, took my panties off and squirmed on the bed, already aroused by instruction number two—think of certain parts of his body on mine. But I had to follow the instructions in order. I’d never had a sex toy before, let alone touched one, and I picked it up and slowly ran the tips of my fingers down the smooth pink body of the vibe. Wanton heat pooled between my legs, and I jumped as I accidentally set the thing to vibrate on the highest setting.
“Oh!”
I turned it off and set it down on top of the pink bag, wondering if I was ready to use such a toy. I’d always pictured things like this being used by older, worldlier women who knew what they wanted and were in charge of their own sexuality. Me…I didn’t even know what sex felt like. I’d touched myself before—I discovered that a couple of years ago—so I knew what it was like to come, but I knew there would be a world of difference between using my own fingers and having someone else’s mouth, hands and cock on and in me.
I leaned back and tentatively rubbed the vibe between my legs, getting used to the cool, slick feeling. I knew it wasn’t close to what a cock would feel like, but it still felt nice having something other than my fingers down there. And speaking of cocks….I was supposed to imagine Jackson’s now. I had no idea what it might look like—I knew men were all different, and I’d only seen a few online before—but I pictured his to be perfect in my mind. Big. Thick. Hard. Ready to pound me senseless.
Warm tingling sensations exploded between my legs as I pictured him touching me. Licking me. Sliding his cock into me. I wanted so badly to replace the toy with him instead, so I could feel his hard cock inside me and his fingers rubbing my clit, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. At least not yet.
His toy would have to be enough for me for now.
Opening my eyes, I pressed the first pink button on the toy, gasping as it immediately began to buzz in my hands, and I ran it over my nipples, teasing them into stiff points. Then I lowered it to my pussy. I trailed it up and down my slick folds, slowly and carefully, and I bit my lower lip to stop myself from moaning as I teased my clit, buzzing the toy over and around it.
God…this felt so good. Way better than my hands. Everything tightened inside me, a sweet tension building with each rhythmic stroke. With each movement of the toy, my clit pulsed and my stomach fluttered, making my head spin. I could feel my muscles clenching, and I gasped, humping the toy like I was on heat. I pictured Jackson’s cock rubbing my clit instead before pumping inside me, and I reached up with my free hand and pinched my stiff nipples, imagining it was him instead.
Breathing harshly, my body already slippery with sweat, I groaned and scrunched my eyes shut again. Panting and frantic now, I shuddered my way to a climax, and I knew I’d never orgasmed like this. Never so hard. Never so fast. Tremors shook my body, and I kept the toy pressed up against my pussy, running it all over my lips and further down so that I coated it with my wetness.
Head reeling, I opened my eyes and uncurled my toes, every inch of me trembling as I got up and quickly slipped the toy back in the box it came in. Then I put it back in the pink bag. It felt dirty to not wash it, but Jackson’s instructions had been clear, and he’d know if I cleaned myself off it.
After sliding my panties back on, I straightened the rest of my clothes and went back out to the kitchen to find my handbag, which I intended on slipping the pink vibe bag into before heading over to Jackson’s house. Frowning, I spotted the other letter again, still sitting on the counter where I left it earlier—the smaller one addressed to me in block letters. I figured I may as well quickly read it now, before I forgot about it again, because it could be something important. Something to do with my college financial aid, perhaps.
Reaching into the third kitchen drawer, I grabbed a sharp silver opener and carefully cut the top of the envelope open, and then I reached in and pulled the letter out. I nearly had a heart attack when I unfolded the paper. I knew this writing like the back of my hand.
This letter was from my mother.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily
My stomach did a flip, and my pulse tripled in pace. Holy crap. After all these years, my mother had finally contacted me. Hands trembling, I set the letter down on the counter and began to read.
Lily, my darling,
I’ve waited a long time for this. It wasn’t safe to try to talk to you before. Even now it’s not exactly safe, but I just had to do it. I had to write to my darling baby girl. I miss you, and I wish I’d been there to see you grow up. I know you’re nineteen now – already a young woman. I don’t know what you look like, but I bet you’re just as beautiful now as you were when you were younger. Even more beautiful, in fact.
I know you probably despise me, Lily. I know you hate what I did, and you hate how I left. I know you feel abandoned by me. And you’re right. I did leave. I did abandon you and your dad. But you have to know, I did it for our family’s sake. I did it for YOU, darling. Let me explain.
That day, I didn’t mean to kill Jenna. I just went there to scare her. I only wanted to give her a taste of what she deserved for hurting you. You remember how she hurt you, don’t you, darling? It was bad enough that she was trying to break our family apart in other ways, but to hurt you was far worse. The final straw. So I got the gun. I went over there to scare her, fire a few bullets off to make her sweat. She had to know she couldn’t get away with her behavior anymore. But the gun…I messed up. I hurt her. Badly. I didn’t mean to, like I said, but she DID deserve it.
Afterwards, I ran. I had to. It was my only choice. I couldn’t let my little girl grow up having to visit her mother in prison every weekend. I’m sorry, Lily, but it was better that way. Better that you never saw me again. I know you’ll never fully understand that, because my mind has never worked the same way as most others, but please try. I honestly did everything I did for you.
Know that I am always thinking of you. Every day you’re on my mind, my gorgeous little girl.
Love,
Mommy
My insides felt like lead, sinking so fast I thought I might fall straight through the floor. This letter….it was bullshit. Did my mom seriously think that anything was clearer to me now? That I’d feel bad for her and what she did? And what was she talking about when she said Jenna hurt me?
I racked my brains, trying to tease fragments of memories out, and finally something popped into my head. I knew why I’d been sick the day she died now. I’d been tired and headache-y that entire week with terrible stomach pain because I’d been refusing lunch and dinner. I was starving myself, essentially, and it was all because of a snide little comment Jenna had made at one of Jackson’s barbecues the month before. I was barely thirteen at the time, so I was at that tender, impressionabl
e age when young girls are just starting to bud but still don’t quite have the body of a woman yet. Back then, I’d look at all the models and actresses on TV and in magazines and wonder why I didn’t look like that, even though I’d already hit puberty, and I didn’t understand that it took years for my shape to finally appear. Just because I had my period and hair down there didn’t mean I had a fully-formed woman’s shape yet, and it was still natural for me to have some baby fat from when I was a kid.
But I didn’t know that back then. So when Jenna saw me scarfing down a hot dog at the barbecue and casually commented that I was ‘filling out too fast’ and should probably limit the amount of hot dogs I ate, it hit me hard. I stopped eating properly for a whole month, only eating the bare minimum to keep my stomach from constantly growling. When my mother confronted me, demanding to know why I’d been doing this—she figured it out despite my best efforts to hide it—I told her what Jenna said.
That was two days before Mom went over there and shot her to death.
And now I knew why.
Even if it was an accident—which it clearly wasn’t; Jenna was shot four damn times, for god’s sake—it was crazy. Absolutely and utterly crazy. Sure, Jenna had upset me enough to make me want to starve myself skinnier, but it wasn’t that big of a deal, at least not enough to warrant going around to her place with a gun to frighten her and hurt her. My eating issues hadn’t lasted all that long, and until now I hadn’t even remembered what Jenna said to me to trigger them.
Don’t get me wrong, social and media pressure on young girls (and the resulting eating disorders) was a terrible thing, but it did not mean that Jenna deserved what happened to her. And that’s what my mother was saying in this letter—she was saying she did what she did for me. To protect me. That Jenna deserved to be hurt. Killed.
At least I knew I didn’t kill Jenna now.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of hot tears. After all these years, my mom was guilty after all and still totally unrepentant. Still totally crazy. She’d tried to justify everything. It was an accident. Jenna deserved it anyway. I had to abandon you afterwards; I just HAD to.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
I couldn’t stop the tears anymore. Dad wasn’t here, so there was no one here to comfort me. No one nearby to hug me and tell me everything would be okay. No one except….
Grabbing the letter, I stuffed it in my purse, picked up my keys and ran out of the house. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, wind whipping my hair, and when I reached Jackson’s house, I stood on the porch, panting as I tried to regain my breath.
The front door opened, and Jackson looked down at me, eyes dark with amusement and lust. “I assume you’re here to—” His sentence was abruptly cut off when he saw my expression, and his eyes flashed with concern now instead. “Lily, what’s happened?” he asked sharply.
I couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t even form a coherent sentence in my own head, let alone get a single word out of my mouth. There was only one thing I felt like doing. Only one thing I could do right now. I stepped forward, and I buried my face in his big chest.
And then I cried.
Chapter Fourteen
Jackson
My baby girl’s head was buried in my chest, and I felt her hot tears wetting my shirt as her body heaved with heart-wrenching sobs. I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her tight and making soothing sounds. Whatever this was, she needed to let it out. And when she was done and able to let me know what happened and who hurt her, I would sort it out. I would hurt the person who hurt my little girl.
“Lily, what happened?” I finally repeated as the sobs began to subside a bit. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”
I kept my tone soft and gentle. She didn’t need the darker side of me right now. She was vulnerable, even more so than when I found her on the edge of the road the other week. She didn’t just need comforting right now. She needed a daddy. Someone to be there for her, take care of her, promise to keep her safe. Chase away all the monsters under the bed.
She pulled back, eyes shining with moisture. “I’m sorry…I know I was only supposed to bring you the toy. I think I put it in here before I left if you want to get it.”
She gestured toward her purse, and I frowned and shook my head. “That’s not important right now, baby girl. Tell me what happened. Who upset you?”
Her next words shook me to my core.
“My….my mom.”
I almost didn’t hear it. She was speaking so softly, head facing the ground.
“What?” I said sharply, certain I was mishearing her.
“My mom,” she said, louder this time. “She wrote me a letter. It’s really bad.”
My stomach plummeted and my heart began to pound. Rage filled my body, clouding my head and tightening my chest. It was fucking terrible enough what Karen Rubio did six years ago, but to come out of the woodwork and contact Lily with whatever insane shit she was no doubt spouting now….that was a whole other level of bad. No one hurt my girl.
No one.
“Come inside,” I said, trying to mask my anger. “I’ll make you a white hot chocolate. I remember you used to love that when you were a kid.”
“Still do,” she choked out, a fresh set of tears springing to her reddened eyes.
She meekly followed me into the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching me with her watery gaze as I made the drink for her. I put two pink marshmallows in it, just like I remembered she always wanted, and then I set it down in front of her.
“This is a nice change from all the coffee I’ve been drinking to stay awake this last week,” she said in a soft voice, warming her hands on the mug.
“I guess Kaye and the others have been working you pretty hard,” I said with a nod. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”
Truth be told, I’d been teasing her over the last week. Making her sweat, keeping her on her toes. I wanted to see just how much of a good girl she was; just how much she’d want to please me, and she had followed through amazingly—not one complaint, not one incident of her showing up at my house demanding to know why I was barely talking to her. She was so well-behaved. So perfect.
Such a good girl.
But now my good girl needed me.
“Tell me what happened,” I went on. “How did your mother contact you? A phone call? Those can be traced, you know.”
Lily shook her head and wiped her tearstained cheeks with one hand. “She didn’t call. She wrote me a letter.”
Reaching down into her purse, she pulled out a piece of paper, and she handed it over to me. I took it from her, but before I read it, I grabbed her hand firmly and looked her right in the eye. “Are you sure you want me to read this?” I asked.
She nodded. “I…I trust you,” she said. My heart soared at that. “You’ve looked after me so much in the last couple of weeks. I know you won’t do anything crazy like reporting me to the cops for having contact with a wanted felon.”
“Of course not. You didn’t ask for this in any way. But you do need to take this to the police, Lily. There’s things they can do to possibly figure out where the letter was written, like analysis to find out where the paper was purchased and so on.”
“I know,” she said softly.
I lowered my eyes to Karen’s letter and began to read, and my blood boiled with each word. It was fucking shit. Just a pile of excuses for killing Jenna and abandoning Craig and Lily afterwards, all to save her own hide. She even tried to say Jenna’s death was an accident, but we all knew Jenna’s death was a violent homicide. The four bullets pumped into her proved that.
Nothing in the letter gave away where Karen was right now or where she’d been hiding all these years, and there was also nothing to suggest she intended on coming back to turn herself in. Ever.
Fuming, I looked up at Lily. “What does she mean about how Jenna hurt you?”
Lily cast her eyes down to her mug. “She used to make rude
comments, that’s all.”
“Oh, I remember those sorts of comments well,” I said. “I was often on the receiving end of them as well.”
“One day she implied I was chubby. I didn’t eat properly for a while. Just a few weeks. That’s what Mom was talking about. I know it was bad, but that doesn’t mean Jenna deserved to be hurt. I’m so sorry, Jackson.”
She began to sob again, and I stood up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Shh, baby girl. It’s not your fault. Your mother has a mental illness. She’ll probably never realize that what she did is on her and her alone.”
“I just don’t get it. Why now? After all these years, why contact me now?”
I sat down again and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s like she said in the letter—she wanted to write to you for a long time, but didn’t feel safe enough to do so until now. Perhaps she finally found a good enough hiding place where she knows she won’t get caught.”
Lily was silent, and she began to chew on her fingernails. I frowned. “There’s something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I leaned forward, voice laced with a warning tone. “Part of being my little girl means telling me the truth at all times, Lily. You tell me everything. It all stays between us. I won’t talk to anyone else about you or the things you tell me, and vice versa.”
She gazed at me, eyes wide with worry. “There’s some things I can’t tell you,” she murmured before looking down again.
“It’s a rule. Rules are there to protect you, baby. So you need to tell me. I need total honesty, Lily.”
Daddy's Fake Bride (A Fake Marriage Romance) Page 31
