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The prodigal father
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Her hands in his hair were enough to clear every thought from his mind. Demetrius felt Jamie’s urgency with each tug, responding with a hunger of his own.
He’d convinced her to take a break. Having missed the revision week, she was thrust back into school with only enough time to sit her finals and it had made her worryingly preoccupied with verb conjugations and mathematical equations. There was a part of him that was surprised she conceded to his distractions, but another part of him was too busy getting drunk on the taste of her mouth.
“We should get back to studying,” she whispered, teasing a nip at his lower lip.
“I can’t hear you,” he whispered back before recapturing those saucy lips that sought to ruin his fun.
How she managed a coherent thought with their bodies pressed so closely together was beyond his level of understanding. Demetrius could feel her every curve as her body fit itself into his contours.
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Applause rang out from within the banquet hall, some guests rising to their feet in exuberance when Demetrius’ name was called. Those seated around him on the stage reached out to give him congratulatory pats on his shoulders or back and a few even hooted in encouragement.The presenter in charge of handing him his reward played up the work the boy had done in the last few months and the impact it had had on the Avendale Tower and wider mythical realm. The man was intentionally vague about his contributions at Central Bureau, but it left the audience no less impressed with what they did get to hear.It was everything Demetrius had ever dreamed of from the moment he first walked into the guard tower with his father all those years ago. The boy aspired for greatness, knowing he would someday be on that very stage by his father’s side. Back then, he knew he would hold his head high and feign modesty while he thanked everyone for their acknowledgements.
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“Jerry…what…what’s this about?” “You’ve got some nerve,” he said, pushing past her to enter the living room. Behind him, four other men entered. They all did their best to avoid making eye contact with the woman despite having let themselves into her home. “Who are these people?” “The movers. Get the books off the second and third shelves,” he said. “Honey, I—” “Don’t call me that,” he said, snapping despite the lack of necessity for such hostility. “You don’t get to call me that, not after what you’ve done.” “Daddy,” Valerie tried, too cautious this time to reach out for him. “Where are you going?” The man gritted his teeth. “I’m not your father, despite what your whore of a mother’s led you to believe—the things in the third bedroom from the stairs, too, men. I want the nightstand, the dresser—leave the bed. That slut’s done too many things on there while I was at work. She can keep that for the next time she runs into
