Chapter 4 Sweetened Secrets

Isabella's POV

The days blurred into a haze of anticipation and guilt-tinged excitement. It had been three days since I'd spiked Mom's creamer with the antifreeze, starting small just a capful mixed in, enough to begin the process without raising alarms too quickly. She sipped her coffee every morning, commenting on how the brand must have changed because it tasted "extra sweet." I smiled through it, my pussy tingling at the secret power I held. Daddy knew now; he'd seen the jug in my car and pieced it together during our midnight fuck. Instead of stopping me, he'd thrust harder, whispering how my darkness turned him on. "You're my little poisoner," he'd growled, his cock slamming into my wet pussy as we fantasized about a life without her.

This morning, Mom looked paler than usual, stirring her coffee slowly at the kitchen island. "I don't know, Isabella," she said, rubbing her temples. "I've had this nagging headache for days, and now my stomach's off. Maybe it's the flu going around."

I poured myself a bowl of cereal, hiding my smirk behind a spoonful. "Probably, Mom. You should rest more. Daddy can handle dinner tonight."

She nodded weakly, taking another sip. "You're sweet, honey. Richard's been so attentive too. Last night, he brought me tea in bed." Her eyes softened, oblivious to how he'd slipped out afterward to bury his face between my thighs.

Daddy wandered in then, dressed for work, his tie loose like an invitation. "Morning, ladies." He kissed Mom on the cheek, then me his hand brushing my ass subtly as he passed. "You feeling any better, dear?"

"A bit," she lied, but her voice wavered. "Just tired."

He shot me a knowing glance over her head, his eyes gleaming. My core throbbed; we both knew the symptoms were kicking in. Nausea, fatigue and the early signs of ethylene glycol poisoning. If I kept dosing her, it'd progress to confusion, seizures and death. "Take it easy today," he said to her, but to me, under his breath as he grabbed his keys, "We need to talk later, baby girl."

The day dragged at college, my mind replaying our last encounter. After he'd eaten my pussy until I screamed (Mom medicated and out cold), we'd lain tangled in sheets, his cum leaking from me as we whispered plans. "How much are you giving her?" he'd asked, his finger tracing lazy circles on my clit.

"Just enough," I'd replied, moaning softly. "Slow, so it looks natural."

He'd chuckled darkly. "Smart girl. But what if she goes to the doctor?"

"I'll handle it," I'd promised, guiding his hardening cock back inside me. "Fuck me while I tell you the details."

And he had, slow and deep, as I described mixing more in, watching her drink it. His thrusts quickened with each word, like the danger fueled him. "You're twisted, Isabella. My perfect twisted princess."

By afternoon, I was home early, finding Mom napping on the couch. The creamer bottle sat in the fridge, tempting. I added another dose double this time shaking it well. My hands shook with adrenaline, but my pussy was soaked, the thrill erotic in its own way. I slipped upstairs to my room, stripping down and touching myself, imagining Daddy's reaction when he found out.

He came home early too, the front door slamming. I heard him check on Mom, then footsteps up the stairs. My door opened without a knock, and there he was, loosening his tie. "She's out like a light," he said, his voice low. "Said she felt dizzy. What did you do today?"

I lay on my bed in just panties, my breasts exposed, nipples hard. "Added more to her creamer. She'll drink it tomorrow."

His eyes darkened with lust, crossing to me. "Fuck, Isabella. That's risky. But... hot." He sat beside me, his hand immediately cupping my breast, thumbing the peak. "Tell me why. Why poison her?"

I arched into his touch, my hand reaching for his zipper. "Because I want you all to myself, Daddy. No more sharing. Your cock in my pussy every night, no sneaking."

He groaned as I freed his erection, stroking the thick length. "And Emily? You believe I ended it?"

I paused, squeezing him. "Did you? Really?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. But... she texted today. Begging for one last fuck."

Jealousy surged, but I channeled it, dropping to my knees between his legs. "Tell her no. Or better, let me watch you tell her." I licked the head of his cock, tasting the saltiness.

"Later," he muttered, his hand in my hair. "First, suck me. Show me how much better you are."

I took him deep, my mouth stretching around his girth, bobbing with enthusiasm. "Mmm, Daddy, your cock tastes so good. Better than any boy's."

He thrust gently into my mouth. "That's right, baby. Emily could never deepthroat like you. She'd gag and stop."

I pulled back, saliva stringing. "Describe her sucking you. Make it dirty."

He smirked, guiding me back down. "She'd kneel in the office, skirt hiked up, no panties. Take me in her mouth, but shallow. I'd have to fuck her face to get off. Called her a cocktease."

I hummed around him, my pussy dripping. "And me? What am I?"

"My perfect cocksucker," he growled, bucking harder. "Wet and eager to swallow every drop."

when he came minutes later, his hot load shooting down my throat. I swallowed greedily, then climbed into his lap, grinding my soaked panties against his softening cock. "Now call her. On speaker."

He sighed but pulled out his phone, dialing. Emily picked up quickly. "Richard? Oh god, I miss you."

"It's over, Emily," he said firmly, his free hand slipping into my panties, fingering my wetness. "Stop texting."

"But why?" she whined. "Your wife doesn't know. We can keep it secret."

I bit my lip to stay quiet as his fingers plunged deeper. "No. I've got someone else now. Someone better."

"Who? That stepdaughter? Isabella? I knew it—you look at her like you want to fuck her."

My eyes widened, but Daddy just laughed. "None of your business. Goodbye." He hung up, then flipped me onto my back, yanking off my panties. "See? Done."

"Was she right?" I asked, spreading my legs. "Do you look at me that way in public?"

"All the time," he admitted, lowering his head to my pussy. "Can't help it. Your tight little body drives me crazy." His tongue lapped at my folds, tasting my arousal. "So wet. Tell me about the poison again. Details."

I moaned, tangling my fingers in his hair. "Ethylene glycol. Breaks down into acids that wreck her organs. Starts with headaches, nausea then coma and death. Untraceable if dosed right."

He sucked my clit, humming approval. "Fuck, that's evil. How much more?"

"A few weeks," I panted. "Increasing doses. She'll think it's illness."

He added fingers, curling them inside me. "And us? What then?"

"You'll console me," I gasped. "Fuck me through the grief. Marry me eventually."

He ate me voraciously then, bringing me to orgasm twice before Mom stirred downstairs. He pulled away reluctantly. "Tonight, after she sleeps. I want to fuck you while we plan more."

Dinner was tense; Mom picked at her food, complaining of aches. "Maybe I should see a doctor," she mused.

Daddy and I exchanged glances. "If it persists," he said smoothly. "Rest tonight."

She took her meds early, crashing by nine. I waited in my room, naked under the covers, my body humming. The door opened at midnight, Daddy slipping in, already hard.

"She's snoring," he whispered, shedding his clothes. "Now, where were we?"

I pulled him onto the bed, straddling him. "Planning. Tell me, Daddy—would you help? Slip some in her drink?"

He gripped my hips, his cock teasing my entrance. "Maybe. If you beg nicely." I sank down, impaling myself on him, my pussy stretching deliciously. "Fuck, so tight."

"Ride you while we talk?" I suggested, starting a slow grind.

"Yes," he groaned. "I'd do it for you. Pour it in her wine. Watch her drink it, knowing."

The image made me wetter, bouncing harder. "You'd get hard doing it? Like now?"

"Harder," he admitted, thrusting up. "Then I'd come to you, fuck this sweet pussy as she weakens."

We built a rhythm, words flowing between moans. "What if she suspects?" I asked.

"She won't," he assured, flipping us so he was on top, pounding deep. "Too trusting. Cum for me, Isabella. Think about her gone."

I did, clenching around his cock, waves crashing. He followed, filling me.

We cuddled after, whispering. "Tomorrow, I'll add more," I said.

"And I'll watch," he promised.

The next morning, he did—lingering in the kitchen as I dosed the creamer again. Mom drank it, none the wiser. By afternoon, she vomited, calling in sick to work.

Daddy texted me: "It's working. Can't wait for tonight."

That evening, with Mom bedridden, we risked the living room. "Suck my cock while she's upstairs," he commanded.

I did, on my knees, as he detailed helping more. "I'll spike her tea tonight."

The danger heightened everything; my pussy dripped as I blew him. He came on my tits, rubbing it in.

Midnight came, and he joined me after dosing her. "Done," he said, sliding into bed. "Now fuck me like you own me."

I rode him reverse, his hands on my ass. "We own each other now."

Conversations turned to life post-Mom houses, vacations, endless sex. His cock never tired, my pussy always ready.

By week's end, Mom was dizzy and confused. "Doctor tomorrow," she mumbled.

We nodded, but that night, we doubled down. "One more dose," I whispered during our fuck.

"Make it strong," he urged, cumming inside me.

The plan accelerated, our bond deepening in darkness. Soon, she'd be gone, and I'd be all his.