His Pretty Little Burden (Kids of The District, #4)

by Nicci Harris

“Fawn,” he says, and as though he has a direct line to my chin, my head rises to meet his stern gaze. “When I talk to you, you look me in the eye.”

I've never wanted to lick a man before, but right now, I want more than anything to know what his sweat tastes like.

"She doesn't eat. Hardly sleeps." He pauses, and my heart becomes an erratic drum between my ears. "If you were my property, I'd bend you over my knee."

"You are my responsibility. While you are under my roof, you will eat three meals a day. You will make yourself comfortable. If you don't like something, use your voice, say it. You will not apologise unless you have done something wrong. The word sorry carries no significance when it's used to hide a lack of confidence."

"Mine," I hiss. Mine. Mine. A word I didn't know I would use, but now that I have, it takes root inside me. My responsibility. Mine to protect. Mine to care for. To clothe. To look at. Mine.

"Now be a good girl, and let me see these lovely lips say, 'Yes, Sir.'"

"Good girl. You’re such a good girl for listening. Do you enjoy fucking yourself in front of me, my pretty deer?"

I want this, want to know what it feels like to have him spank me, to have him care.

His hand on my thigh My heart on the line.

Is the District like Gotham City and Clay a villainous Batman?

"Fuck it," he hisses, yanking open the top button of his pants, dragging the zipper down, the sound resonating inside me like a drum counting down.

"You will be a good girl for me, little deer. Do as you're told, and everything will be okay. You will let me fuck any part of you. You will take me like a good girl. And you will thank me when I kill the boy who put this baby inside you while you were too high to consent."

“Take your cock out.” Guttural whimpers vibrate up his throat. “Remove it.” His head drops forward, tears streaming down his face, filling his mouth. “And I might let you live.”

My sweet girl. My vulnerable girl. Mine.

She is utterly soul commanding. I won't let her go.

You're scared. I need you to trust me, little deer. I will do the worrying for you. Let them all go now. All the questions and concerns about that night. Let them all go."

"This is the last thing, Fawn. I swear it! The last thing. I will drag God himself to Hell before I let you hurt again."

Bad things come in threes. Her suicide: number one. His murder: number two. My miscarriage: number three.

“Fawn. Why you? Because when I’m with you, my sweet girl, I’m lost. And I quite enjoy that.”

I want you to know that if you try to leave, I will hunt you down. I want you to find comfort in the fact that you have no choice. You are mine. Because ever since I laid eyes on you, sweet girl, that is the only place they have wanted to be.”

“I’ve had a lot of blood on my hands, but never in such a way. Your orgasm will help with the cramps, sweet girl.”

“I’m going to come. You’re going to swallow every drop I give you. Then lick me clean... That’s it... Oh. Fuck. More...That's a good fucking girl.”

I want her ears honed to my timbre, her smile provoked by my mere presence, because she knows I’m the beginning, middle, and fucking end for her and I’m all that matters.

Whatever he needs to do to my body, I volunteer.

“I orgasm best under a level of duress, Sir.” He chuckles, deeply,

No one else will, because even in death, she’ll be mine.

It's my body and I'll decide!

Her pain. He should feel her pain. And so drown he will. I should drown them all. All. Of. Them.

For her. Don't fuck with me. Don't fuck with my little deer. Don't fuck with my business.

"You're not my pretty little burden, Fawn." He lifts my chin. "You're my pretty little queen."