Chapter 7 Tangled Lies
ISABELLA
The air in the house felt like a noose tightening around my neck. Mom was officially pronounced dead three days ago, her body cold in the morgue, kidneys ravaged by the antifreeze I'd fed her over weeks. The doctors called it "idiopathic organ failure," a fancy term for their ignorance, and Richard played the grieving widower perfectly, his eyes misty at the hospital while his hand squeezed mine in secret, promising more midnight fucks. But Emily's disappearance gnawed at me, her body hidden in the woods, and now Richard's betrayal of those texts planning to leave me for her burned hotter than any lust. My pussy still got wet for his thick cock, but my heart was a warzone of love and rage. Tonight, I'd make him confess everything.
I stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta, the steam masking my trembling hands. Richard was upstairs, showering after a "long day at work." Work, my ass. Probably deleting more evidence of Emily. The funeral had been yesterday, and we'd fucked in the guest room right after, my pussy dripping as he whispered, "We're free now, baby girl." But those texts I found on Emily's phone recovered from her purse before we buried her changed everything. "Meet me in Cabo, leave Isabella," one read. He'd been playing me, fucking her while plotting to ditch me.
The water shut off upstairs. I poured two glasses of wine, slipping a mild dose of antifreeze into his just enough to make him woozy, pliable. Not lethal. Yet. I needed answers first. My body thrummed with anticipation, my panties already damp from the mix of danger and desire. He descended, hair wet, wearing only a towel, his chest glistening. "Smells good, Isabella," he said, smirking as he grabbed the wine. "To us?"
I clinked glasses, watching him drink deeply. "To us, Daddy. Forever."
He sat at the table, towel parting to reveal his hardening cock. "Come here," he beckoned, patting his lap. "Let's celebrate being alone."
I straddled him, feeling his erection press against my pussy through my thin leggings. "Not yet," I teased, grinding slowly. "We need to talk first. About Emily."
His grip tightened on my hips, eyes narrowing. "She's gone, baby. You made sure of that."
"Did I?" I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Found her phone. Your texts. Planning to run off with her to Cabo?"
He froze, a wine glass halfway to his mouth. "Isabella, that was—"
"Don't lie," I snapped, grinding harder to keep him off balance. His cock twitched, betraying his arousal. "Tell me the truth, or I swear I'll dose you again."
He groaned, head tilting back as I rocked against him. "Fuck, you're vicious. Alright. I was... tempted. Emily was wild, willing to do anything. But it was just talk."
"Talk?" I yanked his hair, forcing his gaze to mine. "You fucked her the night I watched. Her pussy wrapped around your cock while I cried."
His hands slid under my shirt, cupping my breasts. "I told you, it was to shut her up. She was gonna tell the cops about your mom."
I shoved the wine glass to his lips. "Drink more. Then tell me why you wanted her over me."
He sipped, wincing slightly, feeling the antifreeze's edge already. "I didn't. You're my obsession. Your wet pussy, the way you beg for my cock. Emily was a mistake."
I stood, peeling off my leggings and panties, exposing my glistening pussy. "Prove it. Eat me out while you confess everything."
He didn’t hesitate, dropping to his knees, tongue diving into my folds. I moaned, gripping the counter. "Keep talking, Daddy. What was the plan?"
He lapped at my clit, voice muffled. "She wanted money, freedom. Said she'd expose us unless I left with her. I strung her along, fucked her to keep her quiet."
I pushed his head deeper, thighs trembling. "And the baby? She was pregnant."
He paused, licking slower. "Didn’t know for sure. She claimed it, but... I didn’t believe her."
"Liar," I hissed, grinding against his face. "You wanted a real family. Not me."
"No," he growled, sucking hard, making me gasp. "You’re my family now. My dirty little slut, wet for me even when you’re pissed."
I came on his tongue, waves crashing, but anger lingered. "Get up. Fuck me over the table. Show me I’m enough."
He stood, towel dropping, cock rock-hard. He bent me over the table, dishes clattering, and slammed into my pussy, stretching me wide. "Feel that? All for you."
"Harder," I demanded, pushing back. "Tell me you didn’t love her."
"I didn’t," he grunted, pounding relentlessly. "Her pussy was loose, desperate. Yours grips me like you’ll never let go."
We rutted like animals, the table creaking. "What else did she know?" I panted.
He hesitated, thrusting slowly. "She suspected about Elena. Found antifreeze in my car trunk."
My blood ran cold, but my pussy clenched tighter. "And you didn’t tell me?"
"Wanted to protect you," he said, rubbing my clit. "But you handled it. My fierce girl."
I came again, screaming, his cum filling me seconds later. We collapsed, panting, wine glasses forgotten. But his wooziness showed sweating, eyes glassy. "What did you give me?" he mumbled.
"Just a taste," I whispered, stroking his face. "To keep you honest. Now, what’s next?"
He blinked, fighting the haze. "Cops are sniffing around Emily’s disappearance. Her landlord reported her missing."
Fear spiked, but I straddled him again, guiding his softening cock back inside. "Fuck me while we plan. How do we cover it?"
He groaned, stirring to life. "Alibi. Say we were together that night. Fucking in the woods romantic getaway."
I rode him slowly, mind racing. "And if they find her body?"
"Burn it," he murmured, hands on my hips. "Tomorrow. We’ll go back, torch the site."
The idea made me wetter, grinding harder. "Dangerous. But hot. You’d do that for me?"
"For us," he corrected, thrusting up. "Then we leave town. New life."
We talked through the fuck, plotting incineration, fake alibis, a move to Mexico. His cum leaked out as we finished, sealing the pact. But doubt lingered those texts haunted me. Was he still playing me?
The next day, we drove to the woods at dawn, gasoline cans in the trunk. Emily’s shallow grave was undisturbed, but as we poured the fuel, a car engine roared nearby cops? Hunters? We froze, his hand grabbing mine. "If we’re caught," he whispered, "we confess to nothing."
I nodded, but my eyes caught something her phone, half-buried, buzzing with a new text. I grabbed it: "Found you. - PI."
My heart stopped. The private investigator Elena hired before dying he was onto us. Richard saw it too, cursing. "Fuck, Isabella. We’re in deep."
"Shut up," I snapped, tossing the phone into the grave, dousing it with gas. We lit the match, flames roaring. As they consumed her, he pulled me behind a tree, yanking down my jeans. "Need you now," he growled, entering my pussy from behind.
"While she burns?" I gasped, wetter than ever.
"Especially now," he said, pounding. "We’re bound by this."
We came as the fire crackled, smoke hiding us. Back home, we showered together, his cock hard again. "PI’s a problem," I said, sobbing into him.
"I’ll handle it," he promised, fingering me under the spray. "Pay him off or... worse."
"Like Emily?" I asked, stroking his cock.
"If needed," he said, kissing me. "You’re my everything."
But that night, alone, I checked his phone while he slept. A new message to an unknown number: "Isabella’s next if she gets too clingy."
Betrayal hit like a fist. I dosed his water bottle, stronger this time. At midnight, he woke, groggy, as I straddled him. "Truth, Daddy. Who’s the number?"
He slurred, "No one... just... insurance."
I slapped him, riding his cock awake. "Liar. You’re planning to ditch me."
"No," he gasped, thrusting weakly. "Love you. Only you."
I fucked him hard, anger fueling each bounce. "Prove it. Kill the PI."
He nodded, cumming despite the poison. "Tomorrow. For you."
Morning came; he was sick, vomiting. "You did this," he accused.
"For us," I corrected, handing him water clean this time. "Now, the PI."
We tracked him to a gruff man in his 30s, staking out our house. Richard lured him to a diner, me watching from the car. They talked, money exchanged. But the PI smirked, leaving. Richard returned, pale. "He knows too much. I want a fortune."
"Then we end him," I said, my pussy tingling at the thought.
That night, we fucked planning its seduction, poison, and disposal. "You’re mine," I moaned, his cock deep.
"Always," he lied.
But I wasn’t sure. The PI’s car followed us home.