Page 17 of Irish Betrayal

What people didn’t understand about men like himself was that he didn’t get off on sex with kids. He got off on having power over them. Knowing that even when they inevitably parted ways, his voice would always be in their heads.

Blair was only the second person that he’d kept with him into womanhood.

Still untouched.

Mostly.

Men have their moments of weakness. Blair happened to be his.

He wanted his girls innocent of any touch but his own. He made videos, sure, of their moments of submission, of hero worship. They were for his pleasure. Nothing got him harder than their complete trust and devotion.

It amazed him how easily it was to make the surreal appear normal. Blair came from a loving home, which made it harder for him to introduce her to the sight of him in various stages of undress. Eventually, it was just something normal between them.

The thrill of that accomplishment alone had him riding high. It still did, if he studied his reactions to her. Though they hadn’t done more than kiss hello and goodbye for months.

His chest tightened at how much work he had in front of him to bring her back. Peter had a backup plan for just such an occasion.

Sure, it was different now that Mindy and Blair were no longer children, but knowing that they were completely his, had only ever been his, made him euphoric.

Even now, Blair couldn’t help herself. She had to tell him everything. Every dream, every wish, and every hope.

Not every time, but enough that he craved their interactions like a drug addict searching for a high.

He could admit, if only to himself, that Blair was the only child who had turned the tables on his own games.

Blair was the closest thing to a daughter that he could ever imagine. Childlike in appearance but determined like a seasoned adult. Unsure about her appearance and handicap, but fierce when it came to her plants and caring for them.

Blair was a contradiction, but without question, she was his, and he would never let her go.

She was in his mind. He thought of her as the sun climbed the sky each morning and sighed her name each evening.

Even though he had a trove of material to look at, two years ago he’d had to admit that only her pictures and videos could get him off anymore.

Her defiance tasted so sweet against his tongue. He’d had to make sure every touch she granted him was her idea.

In the beginning.

An ‘accidental’ brush against her arm or side left her craving more until one day, she started brushing against him of her own will.

There was something about how many years her body had remained…almost in stasis, suspended in prepubescence—except for her brain. Her intelligence and natural willfulness kept her from being completely under his control, which, in turn, kept him chasing her.

Peter never wanted her eyes on another man.

He loved it when she looked at him. When he was naked and a single glance stiffened his sex faster and better than any paid prostitute. He would putter around the small, locked greenhouse attached to his office, naked, his sex drawing her eyes. But that had only started when she was fourteen.

Just thinking about that had him adjusting himself behind his fly.

The months they were apart were torture, but he got off on his level of control. When they finally started sharing pictures, his anxiety at her distance eased while his preoccupation grew.

They’d sent funny faces or mundane shots of what they were eating at first, until one day, he’d sent a photo of himself in the shower through a fogged mirror that had ‘accidentally’ not had enough steam to cover his lower body.

He’d apologized profusely and begged her to delete it, but she assured him she wasn’t offended and that it was a “good” picture.

That had become their code word. He would ask if she wanted a “good” picture of him. Eventually, he asked if she might send a “good” one of herself.

He still remembered his mouth salivating for hours over crossing another new boundary.

Blair had bewitched him. At times, it infuriated him, but he loved it too. He knew she would be his downfall, his ruin, but he couldn’t let her go.