C6 Unpermitted Thoughts

Chapter Five- Unpermitted Thoughts

He is a rarity and compares to no other, but he's still a man.

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I did not allow my current predicament to badger my emotions.

Scratch that, which predicament am I referring to? There is no predicament, just as Jun had surmised. What happened was nothing but a fleeting moment of weakness on the Devil's side.

He is a rarity and compares to no other, but he is still a man.

And men are horny all the time.

Sometimes that oh so unruly muscle between their legs just decides to get extremely bored and remind the world that it still exists.

Or at least that's what I've been made to believe.

My father does not secretly harbour lascivious emotions for me. My mother fits every definition of unbelievably gorgeous, any desirous thoughts to visit his mind should be of her.

Maybe she had just departed from his office before my arrival and left him with an unforgettable preview of what the night will entail once they are confined to their love suite. My theory is not all that far-fetched, it is highly probable that I just happened to catch him at that compromising time. Ignoring the fact that he is the one who summoned me to his office.

The more I think about it, the more keen my mind is dismantle every possibility to the last bone, which spells no good for me, seeing as the Devil desiring me sexually is one of those possibilities.

Yeah I need to stop thinking about it. Calling Jun helped, but with her opinion on the matter to consider, the shield of my denial has been penetrated.

Groaning in annoyance at my incapability to dissolve these taunting thoughts from my mind, I rolled off my bed and roughly yanked the covers aside. In moments like this, salvation has a name; Seduction Of Sin.

With two claps of my hands, the lights went off and I languidly slipped under the covers and searched for the e-book version of the steamiest romance novel my mind has ever had to process.

I often sought solace in the comforting umbra of these silent walls. I discovered at a very tender age that the dark is your companion when you do not want to be haunted by knowing. I did not want to know the truth, or what I feared to be the truth, so I ran into the welcoming arms of darkness and explicitly narrated sexual endeavours between a young woman and an older man who both know what kind of service their bodies need.

As I scrolled through the page and allowed my imagination to take care of the rest, I soon learned that Lucifer does not give up that easily.

In the flesh, proud and supremely intimidating, my father is the most tenacious, relentless man. When he wants something, he gets it in the very end, despite every variable. Even thoughts of him refuse to yield and revert to insignificance to my mind.

Sometimes my mind is my biggest enemy. I fail to understand how my eyes have bounced from word to word describing vividly a domineering hunk of a man devouring a woman's wet sex and servicing her femininity with a masterful tongue- and still my mind is not distracted from replaying that diabolical smirk that had dressed my father's sinfully handsome face upon realising that I was gazing at his crotch.

Sinfully handsome.

I know what you must be thinking, but I cannot deny the truth or pretend he is undeserving of such an elevated description.

Acknowledging the Devil's undeniable good looks should not propose any harm or be suggestive of anything beyond the borders of platonic admiration from a person with an aesthetic eye.

It's quite surprising how I can't design a clear mental image of Mrs Jenmuk's rather interesting facial features, but I remember how my father's lips twitched upwards very vividly.

That smirk, those blatantly expressive eyes!

Why would he stare at me in such a manner?

What did that daunting curvature of his lips mean?

I hope he does not believe that I have any interest in discovering what lies beneath his tailored trousers.

But why would he think that, Vanessa? Stop being silly!

He has no reason to believe such an atrocious thing.

I mean I did gawk and my eyes did linger long enough for such scrutiny to be inappropriate, but who wouldn't in that situation? My open-mouth gaze should have not indicated anything other than my utter shock.

I do not think of him in that way.

I do not.

I do not.

I do not.

It should be a punishable sin that I am still stressing over an erection I witnessed over an hour ago.

The erection did belong to man I've called daddy for as long as I can remember, but still!

Why am I obsessing over a moment that did not even live for more than a few minutes, when he's probably forgotten that I ever set foot in his office tonight?

My father must be carrying on as though nothing out of the ordinary happened, I mean "normal" is never a guest at the Monalèz mansion, but I am certain that what happened between us did not invite even one persistent thought to his mind.

What happened between us?!

What am I saying?!

That sounds so wrong. Very wrong.

The Devil is my father. He raised me. He is married to my mother.

No one truly knows his age, when or where he was born or anything relating to his ancestry line, but I am certain he is over two decades older than me. Just like my mother.

By every means, I am ashamed and having to face the man who effortlessly captured my mind and permuted my emotions, will only disgrace me further.

I do not want to see him, at least not in the coming few days. I doubt I can act normal around him, as long as I am still over-thinking things, I can't be around him.

The universe must have turned its back on me.

Why on a Friday?

I literally have no sanctuary besides my room. I never thought I would be so desperate for the weekend to be over so I can enjoy some few hours of ease at school.

As long as I am within his property, my father will surely be there, imprinting his eyes into my skin at my every turn. Whenever those cold silver blue eyes gaze at me, my insides feel frizzy, heat disperses to my cheeks and I feel like a fly on a wall. I am already shy and the Devil strips me bare of any confidence I have with just a few idle movements of his eyes.

That's it!

I decided it was best to ditch everything else and force myself to sleep. I do not usually sleep so early in the night and I have not even eaten dinner, but I am retiring to sleep. Only the inherent inertness of sleep can save my mind from itself.

Before I convince myself that there is more to my father's fascination with me than there truly is.

Imagine!

Expelling a grumbling groan, I tossed my phone under my pillow before burying my face under it. I have ignored his apparent interest in me for years, why am I bothered now?

Frustrated, I began counting to a thousand until I could no longer feel those ghost sensations on my ass, where his finger tips had met my skin.

I may not be able to elude him tomorrow, but tonight, his piercing, satanic eyes will not get another pinch of me.

I felt so ridiculously victorious when I felt my eyelids gaining volume and when I began yawning between every five words.

"Six hundred and sixty five."

I gladly closed my eyes, but before I could mumble the next number, a click came from my door and announced that I had an uninvited, unwanted guest. Squeezing my eyes shut as the lights flickered on, I silently prayed that it was not him.

The Devil incarnate.

Light footfalls padded the solid floor as the person I now recognised to be female judging by how delicately she pressed her feet into the floor, approached and quietly sat on my bed.

The scent of her potent perfume diffused into my nostrils and I immediately identified who had interrupted me.

Oh God what does she want?

"Rabella." (Sweetheart or precious gem) My mother sweetly called, gently stroking the side of my face to rouse me from my pretend slumber, but I kept my eyes sealed. "Wake up my love, you know you can't be sleeping just yet."

"I don't feel okay.." I murmured a lie, partly opening my eyes and winning her conviction with a sullen frown.

"What's wrong hun, should I call doctor Ruben?" My mother is the most caring person I have ever encountered, she treats me like a fragile infant most of the time and has been very gentle with me ever since she married the Devil.

I do not know how such a sweet, demure woman decided to bind herself to the most ruthless man in the whole world.

I shook my head, placating her worries. "It's not that serious mom.. I think I'll be better in the morning."

"Rabella," she took my hand and gave me those pleading eyes I can never say no to, "do you think you can manage for a few minutes... dinner has to be served soon."

I almost cried.

How did I forget that I haven't prepared the master of the Monalèz mansion his food?

I am not even an excellent cook, my skills are nowhere close to those of the qualified private chefs under his pay. I don't understand why he must request that only I should prepare and serve him his meals and beverages.

"Mom!" I bleated, she could tell that I had no desire to leave my bed, even for the sake of daddy dearest.

"Vanessa, your father must eat," her tone was suddenly more stern, "and you know he refuses to eat anything that is not prepared by you." My mother sustained a straight face, but the disdain in her voice was obtrusive.

I won't lie. I sometimes get the hint that my mother and little sisters are envious of me and displeased with the fact that my father has assigned me some "special" responsibilities, which consequently dresses me as his favourite.

If only they knew just how much I wish I could trade places with either of them!