Chapter 3: The Afternoon Tantrum
The days blurred into a private symphony of their making, each movement orchestrated by Malachi’s command and Catalina’s devotion. Ember existed in a permanent state of satiation and yet, paradoxically, a constant low hum of need. It was the spoiling that did it—the endless cups of tea brought to her in bed, the whispered compliments, the way Catalina would brush her hair for an hour while Malachi watched, his gaze heavy with possession. They fostered a dependency so complete, so luxurious, that any small delay felt like a catastrophic drought.Which was why, on a Tuesday afternoon, Ember found herself spiraling.
Malachi was on the phone, his voice a low, uninterrupted rumble from his study armchair.He’d been there for forty-five minutes. Ember was stretched across the California king in a sheer lavender lace babydoll that Catalina had bought her, the delicate fabric doing nothing to conceal the ripe curve of her breasts or the neat, hairless junction of her thighs. She’d been waiting. She’d woken up empty, had let Catalina lavish her with a long, slow tongue bath that left her trembling but not satisfied.That was reserved for him. The anticipation had been a sweet torture all morning, a promise hanging in the jasmine-scented air.
But now, the promise was stale.The clock on the bedside table ticked past two.
Catalina lay beside her, propped on an elbow, tracing the lace pattern on Ember’s hip with a manicured finger. “He’s almost done, mi amor,” she soothed, but her eyes flicked to Malachi, a silent communication passing between them.They loved this. They loved the visible ache, the building frustration.
“He said noon,” Ember muttered, her lower lip pushing out in a pout she didn’t have to feign. She kicked her foot petulantly against the emerald duvet.A soft, frustrated sound escaped her throat.
Malachi’s eyes slid to them, a flicker of dark amusement in his gaze before he returned to his call.“Yeah.Tell him the numbers are non-negotiable. I don’t care what he thought the deal was.” His tone was final, brutal.Another five minutes passed. Ember felt it like a physical itch under her skin. The empty, aching need between her legs sharpened into a focused throb. She rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in a pillow, her hips making a small, involuntary circle against the silk. “Daddy,” she whined, her voice muffled.He ignored her.Deliberately.
The whine tightened, rising in pitch and desperation. She flipped onto her back, her honey-brown eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears of pure frustration.“Daddy!” she said, louder.
Catalina’s hand slid between her thighs from behind, a warm, familiar weight. Her fingers pressed gently through the lace, and she inhaled softly. “Pobre bebé,” she murmured, her lips against Ember’s shoulder.“She’s so wet for you, Papi. Soaking through this pretty lace.” She pulled her hand back, her fingertips shimmering with Ember’s slickness, and held them up for Malachi to see.
He ended the call with a terse, “Handle it.” He placed the tablet on the side table with a slow, deliberate finality. His dark eyes locked onto Ember, who was now breathing in quick, shallow huffs, her chest flushed.
“You throwing a fucking tantrum because you need Daddy’s dick that bad?” His voice was a low growl, edged with a pleasure that was entirely for himself.
Ember nodded, her curls spilling around her.A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her caramel cheek. It was the perfect signal.“Yes!I need you! I’ve been dripping all morning thinking about it, and you’re just… talking!” The last word was a wail, her body tensing as another wave of desperate need washed over her.
Malachi stood, a massive, silhouetted figure against the cityscape window. He unbuckled his belt, the clink of the buckle loud in the silent room. The slow hiss of his zipper was a psalm. “You’re a spoiled fucking brat,” he said, his tone thick with adoration.“Come get it then. Ride me like the greedy little thing you are.”
Ember scrambled off the bed so fast she almost tripped. Her tantrum dissolved into a single-minded focus. She pushed him back onto the velvet chaise lounge by the window, the afternoon sun casting long, golden stripes across his torso. He didn’t resist, letting her manhandle him with a grunt of amusement.She climbed onto his lap, her knees bracketing his powerful thighs. She wasn’t gentle. She reached between them, freeing his already rock-hard cock, and positioned the thick, blunt head at her entrance. With a desperate, shuddering gasp, she sank down, impaling herself in one smooth, deep fall.
“Fuuuuck,” Malachi groaned, his head thumping back against the chaise. His hands flew to her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, holding her down as she adjusted to the overwhelming fullness.“That’s it. Take what’s yours, baby girl. Take all of it.”
Ember began to move, bouncing on him with frantic, needy energy. The tight, slick grip of her pussy milking him was exquisite.She rode him with a clumsy, urgent rhythm, her earlier tears replaced by ragged moans. The lace bodice of her babydool slipped, freeing one of her breasts, and Catalina was there instantly.
She knelt beside the chaise, her elegant hands cupping Ember’s breast, her mouth closing around the taut nipple. She suckled hard, her tongue flicking, her eyes closed in worship. The dual sensation—the deep, stretching fullness below and the sharp, pulling pleasure above—drove Ember wild.
“Look at her, Papi,” Catalina murmured, switching to the other breast.“Look at our beautiful girl fucking herself on your cock. Her pretty, bare pussy swallowing you whole.”
Malachi watched, his jaw tight, his hips driving up to meet her frantic bounces.“She’s a fucking dream. This perfect, tight cunt was made for me.Say it, Ember. Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours, Daddy!” she cried, her rhythm becoming more erratic, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around his length. “It’s your pussy, only yours!”
“Damn right it is. And I’m gonna fill it up. Gonna pump my cum so deep inside you.” His thrusts became harder, sharper, pushing up into her with a force that stole her breath. “Come on, baby.Come all over Daddy’s dick. Do it now.”
Catalina’s hand slid between their joined bodies, her fingers finding Ember’s clit, rubbing tight, swift circles.The climax detonated through Ember with violent intensity. She screamed, a raw, unhinged sound, her body seizing as her orgasm ripped through her core, waves of pleasure pulsing in time with Malachi’s pounding thrusts.Her convulsions triggered his release. With a guttural roar, he slammed her down one final time, pinning her to his lap as he erupted. She felt the hot, liquid surge of him flooding her, jet after jet, marking her, claiming her from the inside. He held her there, both of them trembling, until he was spent.
The tantrum was gone, replaced by a boneless, satiated lethargy.Ember collapsed forward against his chest, her whimpers now those of contentment. Catalina cleaned her gently with a warm cloth, kissed her forehead, then Malachi’s lips. “Our perfect, spoiled girl,” she whispered.This was their world. And it expanded to include even the oblivious spectator.A week later, Kaiden was home. His presence was a brief, chaotic blip—loud phone calls with friends, suitcases dumped in the foyer, plans for a trip to Miami already brewing. He found them in the sunroom, Ember curled on a lounger with her head in Catalina’s lap as Catalina fed her grapes. Malachi stood at the window, one hand resting possessively on Ember’s bare foot, his thumb stroking her arch.
“Hey, fam,” Kaiden said, dropping a kiss on his mother’s cheek and nodding at his father. He ruffled Ember’s hair.“You’re always over here. Getting more spoiled by the day, I see.”
Catalina’s hand didn’t stop its path; it trailed from feeding Ember a grape to stroking her cheek, then down her neck, coming to rest with a casual, proprietary weight on the curve of her breast, thumb idly brushing her nipple through her thin tank top. “She’s family,” Catalina said simply, her dark eyes holding her son’s without a flicker. “We take care of our own.”
Malachi’s hand slid from Ember’s foot up her calf, his grip firm. “Your girl’s happy here. Lets us know what she needs.”
Kaiden just grinned, used to the physical ease of his parents, their lavish affection. He’d grown up with Catalina’s constant touches, Malachi’s dominant presence.Seeing it extend to Ember felt natural, if a bit intense. “Cool, cool.I’m gonna grab a shower.Going out with the guys tonight. You’ll be here later, Em?”
Before Ember could answer, Malachi’s hand squeezed her leg.“She’s staying for dinner. We have plans.”
His tone left no room for discussion.It was the same voice he used in boardrooms. Kaiden just shrugged, already scrolling through his phone.“Okay, bet. Have fun with the olds.” He sauntered out, oblivious to the way Catalina’s hand had slid under Ember’s tank top to palm her breast fully, or the way Malachi’s gaze promised exactly what their “plans” entailed.The moment Kaiden’s footsteps faded, the atmosphere thickened. “Come here, wife,” Malachi said, his voice low.
Ember went to him, and he turned her to face the window, pulling her back against his front. Catalina rose, kneeling before her, her hands pushing Ember’s shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. There, in the sun-washed room with the city sprawling below, Catalina buried her face between Ember’s thighs, picking up a worship that had never truly stopped.
Malachi watched over Ember’s shoulder, his hands cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples as she gasped and arched against Catalina’s mouth.“Look at Mommy loving your sweet pussy,” he growled in her ear. “Look how obsessed she is with it. But you know who it belongs to.”
“You, Daddy,” Ember panted, her hands tangling in Catalina’s sleek hair.“Damn right. And tonight, when he’s out getting drunk with his little friends, I’m gonna fuck you right in his childhood bed. Remind you where you live now.”
Catalina’s tongue worked deeper, lapping at her with a devotion that was a religion. The session was long, languid, and thorough, bringing Ember to two shuddering peaks before Malachi finally claimed her, bending her over the same lounger, driving into her with a slow, deep, relentless rhythm that felt less like sex and more like a permanent branding.
Later, after Kaiden had left for the night, Malachi made good on his word. In Kaiden’s old bedroom, surrounded by trophies and dusty childhood memorabilia, he laid Ember down on the navy blue comforter. He kissed her deeply, his hands framing her face. “This is your house,” he said, the words a vow.“Your bed. Your family.” Then he entered her, and the slow, raw fucking that followed was filled with a profound tenderness that bordered on violence. He watched, mesmerized, as her hairless pussy stretched to accept every inch of him, swallowing him whole again and again until he filled her with his seed for the third time that day.
As they lay tangled in the afterglow, Ember knew no other home. The texts from Kaiden flashing on her phone screen were gentle, distant echoes from a life that no longer fit. Here, in the heart of the King mansion, between the devoted mouth of Mommy and the commanding cock of Daddy, she had found her throne. And she was never, ever getting up.
And she was never, ever getting up.
Kaiden’s presence became a thin curtain, a flimsy partition in the house that did nothing to mute the constant, humming frequency of her real life. He slept until noon, loud and sprawling in his room, while Ember woke at dawn enveloped in the master suite’s possessive silence. Her phone, left charging on the vanity, would already be glowing with notifications.
Malachi (6:15 AM): Mornin, wife. Woke up with a hard-on thinking about that hairless pussy. Need to feel it before my first meeting. Be in my office in 30. Don’t wear panties.
Catalina (6:17 AM): Good morning, my love. I dreamed of the taste of you. I have your coffee and a croissant waiting downstairs. Come sit on my lap after you see Papi. I want to feel how wet he makes you.
Ember would slip from the bed, her body already throbbing in response to the texts, a slick warmth gathering between her thighs. She’d pad down the hall to Malachi’s office, where he’d be behind his massive desk, already on a conference call. He’d say nothing, just lock eyes with her, point to the space in front of his chair, and she’d kneel. He’d unzip his trousers while discussing shipping tariffs, feed his thick morning erection into her waiting mouth, and stroke her hair as she sucked him, her own need a sharp, coiling ache. He never came during these sessions; it was just a reminder, a morning sacrament. “Good girl,” he’d whisper, tucking himself away as the call ended. “Now go see Mommy. You’re leaking.”
And she was. She’d find Catalina in the breakfast nook, who would indeed pull Ember onto her silk-clad lap, one hand feeding her bites of pastry, the other sliding beneath her robe to cup her bare mound, fingers slipping through the wetness Malachi’s command had inspired. “My greedy baby,” Catalina would murmur against her neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. “So perfect for us.”
When Ember was forced to spend a night at her old apartment to maintain appearances, the digital siege intensified. Kaiden would be in the shower, and her phone would light up the dark bedroom.
Catalina (9:22 PM): I miss the weight of you in my arms. I miss the smell of your skin. Are you touching yourself, thinking of my tongue? Send me a picture. Let me see what’s mine.
Malachi (9:35 PM): You better not be asleep. FaceTime me.Now. I wanna see that face when I tell you how I’m gonna fuck you tomorrow. You need to hear it.
She’d comply, heart pounding, locking the bathroom door. His face would fill the screen, his expression dark and hungry. “You look lonely, baby girl. You need Daddy’s dick in your life, don’t you?” He’d describe, in grinding, explicit detail, exactly how he would bend her over the balcony railing, the one etched with his old street name, and take her from behind until she screamed. “You’re gonna come so hard you’ll forget that little apartment exists. This is just a waiting room. Your home is here, with my cum dripping out of you.”
Kaiden’s trips away were a relief, a return to full, unfiltered immersion. Catalina would appear at the foot of the bed with a sleek black credit card. “Up, cariño. We’re emptying some boutiques today.” They’d spend hours in plush, private fitting rooms where attendants were paid to wait discreetly outside. Catalina would choose everything for her—lingerie so sheer it was a breath, dresses that clung to every curve, soft cashmere sweaters that felt like her touch.
In the mirrored glow of a Valentino fitting room, Catalina zipped her into a crimson dress that plunged in the back. “Stunning,” she breathed, her hands smoothing over Ember’s hips. Then she turned Ember to face the mirror, standing behind her, their eyes meeting in the glass. Catalina’s hands slid around to palm Ember’s breasts, thumbs circling her nipples through the fine fabric. She kissed Ember’s shoulder, then her neck, her lips parting. The kiss deepened, turning hungry. Ember moaned, leaning back into her as Catalina’s tongue swept into her mouth. It was always like this—a lavish gift spiraling into a wet, open-mouthed claiming right there amongst the scattered silk and fine wool.
Catalina broke the kiss, her breath hot. “I need to taste you. Right now.” She turned Ember around, backed her against the mirror, and slowly gathered the skirt of the expensive dress. She sank to her knees on the carpet, hooked Ember’s thong to the side with a single finger, and buried her face between her thighs without a moment’s hesitation. Her tongue was a flat, demanding stroke through Ember’s folds, then a precise, fluttering point on her clit. Ember bit her fist to stifle her cry, her head knocking gently against the mirror as Catalina feasted, her grip tight on Ember’s ass, pulling her closer. The attendants outside heard only the rustle of fabric and a low, continuous hum of pleasure.
“You’re my favorite flavor,” Catalina whispered against her, lapping firmly. “My perfect, hairless girl. Come for Mommy. Do it.” Ember’s climax was a silent, shuddering convulsion, her knees buckling as Catalina drank every pulse, soothing her with gentle kisses afterward before carefully straightening the dress, as if she’d merely adjusted a hem.
The spoiling was monetary, physical, emotional. Malachi loved it. He loved coming home to find Ember lounging in a new diamond necklace, a literal weight of his affection around her throat. He’d pull her into his lap, nuzzle her neck, and call her his “little princess,” his “spoiled rotten wifey.” He’d feed her oysters from his fingers at a private chef’s table, watching her lips close around them. “You like that, baby? Daddy gonna buy you the whole fucking ocean if you want it.” His affection was a physical, consuming force. He loved washing her in the massive shower, his big, tattooed hands soaping every inch of her with a tenderness that contrasted violently with the filthy promises he whispered in her ear.
“Tonight,” he said one evening, drying her with a towel so soft it felt like cloud, “I’m gonna eat this pussy for an hour. Then I’m gonna fuck you so deep and slow you’ll feel it in your throat. Just how my baby loves it, right? Deep and raw and long.”
He kept his word. That night, after a dinner where Catalina had hand-fed them both bites of decadent chocolate torte, he laid Ember out on the bed like a offering. He started at her ankles, kissing his way up her inner thighs with a patience that felt like torture. When his mouth finally found her, it was with a groan of pure devotion. He licked her with broad, languid strokes, his beard scraping her delicate skin, then sucked her clit into the heat of his mouth, applying a steady, rhythmic pressure that built a slow, unbearable tension. He fingered her slowly, crooking two fingers inside her to press against that sweet, spongy spot while his tongue never ceased its relentless work.
“This is my pussy,” he growled, his voice vibrating against her. “My perfect, pretty, bare-bald pussy. Tastes like heaven. Gonna make you come just like this, just from my mouth.” And he did. He pushed her over a towering, silent peak that left her seeing stars, her back arched off the bed.
Before the last tremor faded, he was moving up her body, aligning his heavy cock with her soaked, sensitive entrance. He pushed in with that first, breathtakingly full stretch that never got old, seating himself to the hilt with a guttural sigh. He didn’t move. He just looked down at her, his eyes black in the dim light. “You feel that, baby? You feel how deep I am? I’m home.”
Then he began to move. Long, slow, dragging withdrawals followed by even slower, deeper pushes. It was a fuck that felt like possession, like claiming territory inch by glorious inch. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat against her chest. “You’re my heart,” he grunted, his pace unwavering, each thrust a deliberate punctuation. “My new wife. My everything. Gonna put a baby in this perfect belly. Gonna watch you get fat with my heir.”
The words unlocked something primal in her. She came again, crying into his shoulder, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back. Her convulsions milked him, dragged his own release from him. He came with a shuddering roar, pumping his seed into her in hot, endless jets, grinding his hips to get every last drop as deep as it would go. He collapsed, but didn’t pull out. He kept her pinned beneath him, his weight a profound comfort, his softening cock still nestled inside her, a physical seal on their union.
Catalina slid into bed beside them, her hand resting on Ember’s hip, her lips pressed to Malachi’s shoulder. A perfect, spoiled, secret tangle. Outside, the city lights glittered, impersonal and cold. In here, in the fortress of their making, Ember was consumed, treasured, and utterly, completely owned. The world beyond the mansion’s walls was now just a story she no longer lived in.