Page 3 of My Demon Charming
“Go upstairs. He’s waiting for you.”
My stomach sinks as it always does.
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
I take my shoes off and head up the stairs. I’m pretty sure by the time I reach the bedroom door, my mouth is bleeding from all the chewing. But the copper taste doesn’t bother me anymore. Yet another thing I’ve gotten used to in my life.
I knock on the door and wait, balancing from one foot to the other twice before he responds.
“Enter.”
I reach for the doorknob with a shaky hand. I make a fist to stop it before I open the door.
The sight on the other side makes me throw up in my mouth. Kevin is there, sitting in bed naked with a dour expression.
“You’re late,” he says and palms his already erect dick.
“I’m sorr?—”
“Save your excuses for someone who cares.” He glances down at his crotch and grimaces. “What are you waiting for?”
I set the backpack down by the door and swallow the knot in my throat as I close the distance between my stepfather and me.
I don’t dare look him in the eye. I focus on a spot at the edge of the bed and use it to navigate to him.
“Today, dickhead.” His shout makes me jump, and he laughs.
My fear has always amused him. Bastard.
I lie at the end of the bed, and before I even settle, he shoves his cock in my mouth. I close my eyes and burry the pain and humiliation so I can do my job. Like I always do. Like I’ve been doing since my mom died five years ago.
I’d love to say I’ve become desensitized, numb, or indifferent, but no, it hurts every day, every hour, every time.
He pushes me down on him without regard for choking or hurting me. All he ever cares about is his release. His release and his magic.
While he forces me to suck him off, he grabs the book beside him and the knife he was using as a bookmark and flips through the pages before stopping on one.
I don’t even notice when he grabs my palm and slices. I’m too distracted by the tears forming in my eyes. How is this my life? How have I ended up like this?
Kevin starts chanting something and bucks his hips, shoving his dick even deeper, making my tears drop onto his crotch. He pauses and puts his lips around my gushing wound, and I feel its sting heat my entire arm.
Time warps as usual, and the minutes of abuse turn to seconds, and before I know it, he’s shooting his load all over my face and chanting some more bullshit. It’s all giving me a headache. I just want to sleep. I want to go to my room, lie in my bed, and never wake up.
“Get out, you good-for-nothing piece of shit.” He kicks me off his bed and rubs as much of my blood from his chin as possible, guiding it onto his tongue like a kid trying to get every bit of melted chocolate from his face.
“Kevin, I…um…” I know it’s probably a mistake, but I’ve got to try.
“What?” he grumbles, barely looking at me, too focused on the blood.
“I…I got accepted into Lockwood, and I was wondering?—”
“Lockwood?” He looks up at me, and his eyebrows knot over the bridge of his nose. “You? Got accepted to Lockwood? Ha! How? You’re a useless piece of crap. You’re not magical.”
As if it’s proof, he points to his blood-stained fingers.
He may think I’m not magical, but that doesn’t stop him from drinking my blood, trying to steal the magic I don’t have.
“Well, they do an ignition, and if I pass?—”