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“Are we squishing you?” I ask in a whisper, pressing myself against her, enjoying the way she squirms.
“Nah, she looks good to me,” Nico says.
I lick my lips. Christina is beautiful every day, but today especially.
God, it’s amazing.
She’s dressed in a sweet, unassuming pale pink lace dress, and she looks the image of purity and subservience. The perfect little picture for a Don’s new daughter.
I grin to myself.
I’m almost positive that Albert helped pick out this outfit, hoping to present Christina to our world as an innocent young woman. That perfect blend of Virgin Mary and Mafia Princess, only available to the best of the best.
Too bad Nico and I are going to destroy that perfect little picture.
“Look at her, she’s pretending to be shy,” he whispers, clearly amused. His body inches closer.
“Do we make you nervous, princess?” I ask, following suit.
She squirms again, answering the question for us, before shooting me a disapproving look and whispering. “Shh.” She crosses her arms against her chest and frowns, but I can only concentrate on how the motion is pressing those ample tits out even more.
Maybe there is a God because she could not be more perfectly made.
I groan as she scowls. She was made for me. For us. Even her lips are plump. Everything about her is curvy and supple and begging to be sucked and squeezed.
“Stop staring,” she hisses, poking at my thigh with one delicate little finger.
I smirk and capture her hand in mine, bringing it up to my mouth to lightly graze her finger with my teeth.
Her subsequent gasp is like music to my ears.
So sweet. So pure. So… corruptible.
I glance over at our new stepmother, and she’s completely wrapped up in Albert. He’s even holding her hand. Gross.
They have no idea and that makes this even more perfect.
I nudge her shoulder just to make her scowl at me again. I fucking love when she looks at me like that. Like a little kitten testing out her claws for the first time.
It’s clear that Christina is used to being the good girl. I can’t wait to see just how far we can corrupt her.
Adorable.
“Have you tried praying? You’re too distractible,” she suggests, quietly admonishing me.
I lean closer to her so I can whisper my words into her ear. “I'd prefer to worship at your altar, princess. That’s where the real salvation lies.”
I place my hand, palm down, against the space in between our legs, letting my pinkie brush against her covered thigh.
I inch my touch up her skin, beneath her dress, closer to the center of her core.
She opens her legs, I think by accident, because her face pinkens and she tries to press her thighs together, but Nico is too fast. Seizing the opportunity, he grips her other knee, and prevents her from closing her legs and limiting our access.
I slide my hand beneath her dress while Nico does the same, effectively trapping her. She’s wet already.
My good girl.
I groan, watching her bite her lip as my fingers brush her clit beneath her underwear, making her shiver.
