Still warm.
“Every time you put something between your legs now, you’ll remember this moment. Every time you try to wear new ones, you’ll feel the difference.
“You’ll remember how these were torn off you. How you moaned when they came off. How your slick coated them while you begged me not to stop.”
Another inhale.
Then I kissed them.
Dead center.
Pressed my lips to that warm, stained spot like I was worshiping the memory of her p***y.
And whispered against the lace-
“This is mine now.”
Then I walked back to the drawer, opened it like I was handling a f*****g relic, and laid the panties flat on the velvet lining like I’d just placed the crown jewels.
I closed it.
Locked it.
Then stood there for a long minute with my hand on the wood, my chest rising and falling, my c**k twitching with every breath.
“I’m a grown-ass man,”
I said one last time, shaking my head and laughing again.
“And I just fell in love with a f*****g pair of panties.”
I dragged my hand down my face again.
Smirked at the mirror.
And muttered.
“God help me. Because I’m not stopping.”
I stood there for another breathless second, palm still pressed to the drawer like it had taken something from
Het Panties me. Maybe it had. Maybe it was safer that way.
Safer if I didn’t look at those panties again tonight. Safer if I didn’t open that drawer again in the next ten minutes and take them back out just to smell her all over again.
Because I would.
I f*****g would.
And I needed to get a grip.
I turned back to the room, dragging a hand down my face and eyeing the bed.
The sheets were ruined.
Completely.
There was a wet, dark spot in the center where her virgin blood had soaked through, ringed in the mess of my c*m and sweat and everything else I’d left behind inside her.
Her scent was thick in the air. The headboard was still crooked from where I’d slammed her against it before dragging her into the closet like a starving animal.
I clicked my jaw, exhaled hard through my nose, and moved to strip the bed.
Just as my hand grabbed the edge of the fitted sheet, I heard it.
A voice.
“b***h, where the hell were you?” f**k.
Tasha.
My stomach dropped.
“Oh, goddammit,”
I hissed, yanking the sheet off with one pull.
There wasn’t time. I didn’t even fold it. I just bundled the entire soaked mess into my arms, shoved it in the hamper beneath the sink, and sprinted out of the room like I hadn’t just marked every inch of it with my c*m and my c**k.
The second I stepped into the hallway.
There they were.
My daughter and my filthy little secret.
Her eyes narrowed, her expression pissed off and full of bratty fire. But it wasn’t her mouth that made my blood turn cold.
It was her hand.
Lifted.
Reaching.
Fingers already halfway to Lyra’s throat..already reaching for the bite mark I’d left right at the junction between her neck and shoulder.
Her Panties
My mark.
My f*****g mark.
“Tasha.”
She froze.
Both of them did.
Lyra flinched like she wasn’t sure if I was about to yell or kiss her again. Her cheeks were flushed. Her legs were shaking. And she was still in my f*****g shirt.
And Tasha.
Tasha was standing there wide-eyed, hand suspended mid-air, mouth already opening to ask something I would kill to never answer.
So I cut it all off.
Snapped like the father I was supposed to be.
“You are in big f*****g trouble, young lady.”
Tasha blinked.
“What?”
“Look at the goddamn time you’re coming home!”
I barked, marching toward her like I hadn’t just been balls-deep in her best friend minutes ago.
“Ugh, chill, Dad..”
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me!”
I snapped, pointing toward the hall./
“I am never and I mean never allowing you to go to any f*****g party again. You hear me?! I don’t care if it’s a birthday, a wedding, a gender reveal or Jesus Christ himself hosting it in your mother’s backyard. You’re done. You’re grounded. Go. To. Your. Room. Now,
The Confrontation
**Lyra**
“I am never and I mean never allowing you to go to any f*****g party again. You hear me?! I don’t care if it’s a birthday, a wedding, a gender reveal or Jesus Christ himself hosting it in your mother’s backyard. You’re done. You’re grounded. Go. To. Your. Room. Now.”
Tasha just stood there, blinking like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her glossy lips parted slightly.
“Are you serious right now?”
Tasha finally said.
“You can’t do this, Dad!”
Tasha shouted, eyes blazing as she stormed down the hall toward him.
“You can’t f*****g do this! Can’t a girl live a little?! So what..I came home late! Am I hurt? No! Did I crash? No! I’m fine!”
“I’m not twelve anymore,” she snapped, throwing her arms out.
“You don’t have to lock me in a f*****g tower every time I step outside!”
Damon didn’t flinch. He just stood there; chest rising slow and hard, every line in his body tight with restraint.
His jaw flexed. His eyes didn’t leave her face, even as I shifted behind him like a ghost in oversized cotton.
“You don’t get to question the rules in my house,” he said.
“You don’t get to vanish for hours, ignore your phone, and then walk in like nothing happened.”
Tasha scoffed.
“So what now, you’re going to ground me because I went to a party and had fun? That’s your idea of parenting? Keeping me in a cage while everyone else lives?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.