Don't Tell Daddy (28 page)

It wasn’t long before she came and Jordan plunged his tongue into her, taking every ounce of her cum as it came down her sugar walls, not giving any a chance to seep out and escape. “Oh God, Jordan!” she called out, her fingers in his hair.

Jordan got up and pulled his t-shirt off, and Pamela watched him in lust. His body was exactly why they coined the term beach god.

He came out of his jeans and boxers, and his dick was standing at attention. She admired it, mesmerized and unable to take her eyes off the rigid flesh. All she wanted to do in that moment was taste him.

Pamela came off the couch and pushed him down onto it, getting on her knees, taking him in her mouth. As her lips wrapped around him, she moaned, her tongue flicking around his head, savoring his flavor.

He moaned, his fingers in her hair. She looked up at him enjoying her as she swirled her tongue around his head, her piece of jewelry hitting the sensitive flesh of his dick, and pre-cum oozing out the tip. Watching him with ecstasy in his face at her hand did something to her.

She got up and kissed him, climbing on top. He held her waist, looking up into her eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to get you alone like this, Pamela.”

“You don’t know long I’ve waited to get to be alone like this, Jordan. You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you for so long.” She reached for him, sliding down his rod with a sigh.

The way he filled her, she gasped a little bit. Bryan was long, but he wasn’t as thick as Jordan. Jordan was the perfect fit.

Jordan looked up at her, massaging her breasts as she rode him, up and down, back and forth. “Oh, Jordan,” she moaned. “Mmmm.”

Breathing heavily, Pamela leaned forward, her lips against Jordan’s, and he grabbed her head. His tongue slipped past her lips as he held her around the waist, stopping her motions.

Jordan lifted her up and he pulled her up to his bedroom. She looked at his king sized bed and got in it beside him. He pulled her to him, kissing her neck. “You got some good stuff,” he whispered, nibbling her ear.

She moaned as he laid her back, entering her. Her legs draped around him as he stroked, seeming to let out every ounce of anxiety in her as he filled her with his peace. With a love she should have accepted.

She had found a young man who could fuck her just as good as Bryan could; and he told her, when she found one that could fuck her
half
as good, she was welcome to never let him touch her again. Well, here he was on top of her.

When Pamela felt her legs shaking, Jordan pulled out of her, going back down. She couldn’t stand it. “Please, Jordan,” she begged. He pulled her closer by her hips, his eyes watching hers, teasing her. He knew what he was doing. 

Pamela moaned and squirmed, trying to free herself of the torturous pleasure. But Jordan kept her right where she was until he was done and then he laid her back and put her legs on his shoulders, entering her deep. He looked down at her, his eyes locked on hers, watching him. She didn’t have to tell him a single thing; her eyes let him know it all.

He was not playing about her feeling him in every fiber of her being. She couldn’t be sure he wasn’t in her chest. She couldn’t be sure he wasn’t in her soul.

Jordan finished inside Pamela, and they fell asleep together, entangled in each other’s bodies, breath mingling as their lips stopped centimeters short of a kiss.

When Pamela woke up, she smelled food and looked over at the clock.

“Shit!” Her eyes widened in alarm at seeing that it was after six in the evening. Calling for a cab, she hopped up and ran into the front room, gathering her clothes. “Pamela—”

“I have to go. I’m married.”

She looked around frantically for her ring, and Jordan picked it up off the table, knowing it was what she was searching for. She started for the door, but Jordan caught her. “Wait, Pamela.”

“I have to go. I have to pick up my daughter, and I need to start dinner.”

“Pamela, wait,” Jordan insisted as he pulled her to his chest and leaned down and kissed her deeply. She couldn’t help putting her arms around him and returning it. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I have to go.”

Pulling away from him frantically, she ran out of the house and to her cab. When she got home, her husband was already there, and so was her daughter. Pilar got up from the dinner that Bryan had made, and she ran to Pamela. “Mommy smell funny,” she noticed.

Bryan came over and stopped. “You do smell funny, Mommy. Why is that?” he questioned.

Pamela leaned down to Pilar, heart beating nearly out of her chest. She couldn’t cover this up, she couldn’t tell a good enough lie for why she smelled like another man’s cologne, cum, and sweat.

Swallowing hard, she leaned down to her daughter with a forced smile on her face as she asked, “How was Jada?”

“We make sock puppets!”

Pilar started to run to the den for the puppets, but Bryan called her back. With a pout, the toddler sat back at the table.

After going to briefly clean up, Pamela sat for dinner with her husband and their daughter, and afterwards, she went and gave Pilar a bath and tucked her in. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. You can show me your sock puppet. Okay?”

“Yeah!” Pilar grinned at her mother and reached up for her goodnight hug.

Pamela had been sucking dick, so she didn’t kiss her daughter’s lips, instead pecking her forehead. She left the room and turned out the light.

When she walked into her room, Bryan shut the door and grabbed her. He wasted absolutely no time; and she had no time to really prepare herself for what she knew was about to happen to her. “Who did you fuck?” he questioned, tossing her into their bed.

Pamela bounced on the bed and she tried to move to the other side of it, scanning the room for an escape.

“Bryan—”

“Answer the fucking question, bitch,” he growled.

“What is your issue?”

“You better answer me,” he warned.

“I love you,” she said instead. “That’s why I’m still here. What do you think I was doing?”

He backhanded her. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Pamela. You might as well tell the truth. I already saw him come and pick you up and I saw your car here the whole time you were gone.”

Pamela didn’t say anything, just staring at her husband. He leaned down, their faces only inches apart. “Now, why would you go and do something stupid like that, Pamela? Do you want to be nothing more than a whore? You have a daughter, and you sent her off so that you could go fuck?”

“Jada asked for her,” she informed him.

His eyes narrowed and she knew she had fucked up. Although angry and calling names, Bryan hadn’t seemed inclined to violence until that. She probably could have gone to bed with nothing more than hurt feelings and a tongue lashing. 

Bryan’s hand slid around her throat, and she grew fearful although his grip was loose and she could easily breathe. “Bryan, let go,” she said, trying to move his hand, but he tightened his grip, now cutting off some air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Pamela? Have you lost your mind, giving my pussy away?” he asked angrily. “I go and work and take care of you and you decide to go and fuck someone else? Are you stupid, bitch?”

“Let go,” she said, trying to move his hands again. This time, when he tightened his grip, her air supply was cut short.

“When I came home from work, my wife wasn’t here. When my daughter came home, she was hungry. Who didn’t make dinner?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, starting to cry.

“You’re a bad mother. You don’t do what the fuck you’re supposed to do.”

“I’m not!” she said, feeling hurt he would even place that allegation on her.

Pamela could be a bad wife, a bad friend, a bad daughter. She could be bad at everything in the world, but she refused to be a bad mother. She loved her daughter like nothing in the world and would do anything for her. Not being home to cook one time did not condemn her to being a bad mother.

He lifted her up and shoved her into the wall. “Did I tell your ass to speak?”

She shook her head. All she wanted to do was avoid the beating that she knew was coming. She wanted to comply and get him to calm down.

“Now you may speak, Pamela. Use your words.”

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped.

“I didn’t ask you that shit.”

Pamela looked down into this man’s eyes, and she didn’t recognize him anymore. She didn’t know who he was. It was like the Devil got inside him and just took control.

Bryan lifted her off her feet. “Do you want to break up your daughter’s home?” he asked.

“No,” she managed, tears pouring down her face.

Bryan tossed her into the bed by her throat, and he got on top of her, holding her down by her shoulders, looking down at her with such disgust in his features. Pamela closed her eyes, remembering the last time a scene like this had played out.

“Open your eyes, Pamela,” he ordered.

Pamela opened her eyes and looked up at her husband, tears streaming down the sides of her face, her chest heaving.

“You’re a slut.” He looked down at her with his eyes blazing. “All you’re good for is fucking.”

“Get off me!” she sobbed, pushing him. He didn’t climb off her, but instead unzipped his pants and rammed himself into her, holding her down by the throat.

Pamela had always wanted to believe that the first time her husband raped her would be the last time. Until now, that seemed to be true.

Their door opened. “Mommy,” Pilar called.

“Go back to your room, baby,” Pamela pleaded, eyes closed as she endured her husband’s assault on her body.

“Can’t sleep,” the baby complained. “I sleep wiff you? Missed you.”

“Get out, baby,” Pamela said again, now struggling to get her husband off her, doing her best to pry his fingers from around her throat.

Bryan slapped her so hard, she tasted blood. She pushed him, trying to get him from over her, hoping to get out of the bed.

The door came all the way open and Pilar saw Bryan over Pamela. She rushed over to the bed, pushing him. “Daddy, you huwt Mommy,” she cried. “Stop! Stop!”

Bryan continued to hit Pamela with one hand, holding her down by her throat with the other. Their daughter was sobbing, trying to push her father off her mother. “Stop, Daddy! Stop!” Pilar screamed.

“Bryan, look at your daughter,” Pamela said, motioning to the toddler on the side of the bed, crying. “You’re scaring her. Stop.” Her eyes pleaded with Bryan, not for herself, but for their child. Pilar didn’t deserve to have to watch this.

Bryan got off Pamela. “I’ll deal with you later, whore.” He headed down the stairs, and Pilar climbed on the bed, wiping her mother’s tears away. Pamela held her daughter, her baby’s head resting in the crook of her neck as she sat there and sobbed.

When Bryan’s car was started, Pamela hopped up. She couldn’t stay here with Pilar. Not tonight. “Just sit there, baby,” she whispered to the toddler, going to find a suitcase. When her daughter started to see the shit, she couldn’t deal.

She packed some clothes, and she went and emptied out Pilar’s drawers, adding in her baby’s favorite toys. She picked up Pilar and shakily pulled her into a jumpsuit. Her hands shook worse as she put their coats on and found their keys, praying the entire time they would make it out before Bryan decided to come home.

After unlocking her doors, she tossed the suitcase in the trunk and got Pilar into her booster seat as quickly as she could before hopping into the driver’s seat and leaving the house.

“Where we going, Mommy?” Pilar asked.

“To see a friend,” Pamela answered.

She made her way to Jordan’s house, and when he came to the door, he seemed surprised. He hadn’t expected she would come back at all, better still so soon. “Pamela—”

“Please, can I stay the night?”

“Yeah.”

He allowed her in, and when she stepped into the light, he saw her nose was bleeding and then she took her coat off and he noticed the rings around her neck. “Where can I put Pilar?” she asked.

He led her up the stairs to a spare room and she laid her baby down and put her under the covers. When she walked out of the room, Jordan was staring at her. “You’re not going to go back to him, are you?” he asked.

“He’s my daughter’s father.”

“And it’s clear he just beat your ass. That’s the man you want your daughter to see as her blueprint? So that when she’s older, she’s going to love some man who mangles her? Is that what you want?”

“No,” she said fervently. “I never want this shit for her.”

“Then show her something better than it, Pamela.”

Pamela held her head. “He’s her father.”

“What does that matter if he can’t love his baby’s mother?”

“He does love me.”

“No, Pamela. He possesses you, and possession is not love. I love you,” he said gently, taking her hands in his, holding them to his chest, looking down into her eyes. She looked up into his eyes.

“I just need to stay for the night.”