It was Halloween, one of my favorite holidays before I had kids, but especially after. Stella usually had to work at some point on those days, but I would go big getting Gabby and Smith ready and taking them trick-or-treating. Stella participated when she could.
Once the kids felt they were too old or too cool to go door to door, they still enjoyed the holiday by helping me decorate, hand out candy, or being my partners in crime for my epic annual Stella scare which was when I took years off my wife's life by scaring the shit out of her in a creative way, thus her vowing to take my life entirely.
Smith and I were assigned to candy distribution, Stella was working until 11pm, and Gabby was getting ready to go to a party with Mitch and her friends. Teenage screaming came from the TV as I closed the door on the most recent group of trick-or-treaters and glanced up to see Gabby, about to descend the staircase.
She was wearing a short as hell, acid washed, denim skirt that left way too much smooth leg exposed down to a pair of black Chuck Taylors. That was shocking enough, but taking in her costume above the waist had me gritting my teeth and balling my free hand into a fist.
Her hair was obnoxiously teased and piled high on her head, leaving the column of her neck exposed down to the thin seam of a skin-tight, very see through, fishnet shirt. Beneath that, her neon pink bra was not only visible, but looked to be struggling to hold her tits. It was either old or borrowed from a less endowed friend.
I quickly shot a look to Smith to make sure she had escaped his notice. I passed him the candy bowl mumbling, "Hold down the fort, yeah?"
"Yeah, sure."
And then I was bounding up the staircase. When I met her, three steps from the top, I grabbed her arm and jerked her along behind me, down the hall, to her room. We'd barely made it over the threshold when I whipped her passed me and slammed the door, closing us in.
"No fucking way," I growled.
When she finally came to a stop and saw my face, she paled. "What?"
"You are not walking out of here in that." My own ears heard disgust in my voice, which wasn't what I was going for, but her appearance triggered something in me that I was fighting to control. Looking back, the disgust was probably with myself.
"It's my costume. We're all going as..."
"I don't give a fuck, find something else."
Before my eyes, she morphed into a petulant teenager. Hands on her hips, she defiantly declared, "Mom said it's cute."
"Mom isn't sleeping in that bed with you."
"What does that mean?"
I sighed and swiped a palm down my face in an effort to control my temper and the intensity of our argument. I wanted to scream, but instead calmly, if not a little menacingly, said, "If you want to dress like that, it's not going to be when you're with people I don't know, in a place I don't know."
Her brown eyes glared at me. "Why? Do I look like I'm asking for it? I have to change because men can't control themselves?"
She didn't say many snide things to me, but I noticed the frequency of shots aimed my way had increased since we started fooling around.
"Fuck no." I was surprised she didn't get it yet. I began to slowly stalk towards her. She took a step back each time I closed the distance between us. "First off, do not confuse this."
Her body jerked when the wall halted her retreat.
"You should be able to walk into a place buck ass naked and not have a single person touch you in a way you don't like. In fact, I'd like to take you somewhere in something a fuck of a lot more revealing than that and you and I can sit and watch all the men in the room trying to control themselves."
I got nose to nose with her and leaned down a bit to her level. My arms caged her in against the wall and she nervously looked back and forth between them. Something about capturing her, cornering her, made my cock start to harden.
"I don't understand then."
"For the last time, Gabrielle. What's between those legs is mine and you seem determined to show it off tonight. You can dress like this when you're hanging on MY arm and I'm there to watch everyone fantasize about what you fucking taste like, knowing the whole time that I'm the only one who puts my mouth on you whenever I want."
At the mention of it, her eyes cut down to my mouth and she swallowed hard. Pink flooded her cheeks. Her tits rose and fell rapidly with her breaths and, swear to Christ, I could feel the lust pulsing around her like an invisible aura.
The truth was that she looked sexy as hell. She looked like a woman, not a fresh new adult, and she looked like she knew exactly how to take care of a man's cock until he was begging for mercy. The outfit was ridiculous, a throw-back to best forgotten 80's fashion, but Gabby wore it like a second skin in which she was way too comfortable. I didn't want to be one of those men who couldn't control themselves, but I was struggling. She'd submitted to a sexual relationship with me, but I hadn't taken her with my cock. The problem was I wanted to.
I looked down at her shirt and wondered what my cum would look like seeping through the woven fishnet. My eyes traveled further to her hips, then her legs. I needed to see what was under that denim.
When I left my daydreams behind, Gabby was still watching my mouth closely. "Stop looking at me like that, Gabrielle."
"Like what?" she whispered.
"Like you want me to tear these clothes off of you and send you to the party with a used pussy."
She looked down before squeezing her eyes shut, trying to do what I asked, but she blushed even more. Her breathing didn't slow. Her tits didn't stop reaching out to me. Her hands at her sides flattened against the wall behind her as if she needed support.
I leaned in to whisper in her ear. "It seems like that might be exactly what you want."