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“Good,” I say unevenly, my muscles coiled up, constricted. I’m vibrating head to toe just being this close to her, being given the honor of her honied voice. “You can be honest with me.”
“It feels that way,” she whispers, letting a line of blue fall to the crisp white canvas, creating a circular pattern near the bottom center. “You make me wonder if wickedness isn’t something to be scared of, but something to be…celebrated.” Her chin comes up. “Then again, temptation makes people want to compromise their morals, doesn’t it? Makes them come up with excuses to…play?”
With that, she whips a barrage of paint down onto the canvas.
I have to grind my back teeth so I don’t groan out loud.
“If wickedness is something to feel good about, to be enjoyed…with the right person…then I’ve been kept here for no reason. And I’m not ready to accept that,” she whispers, bending forward to collect the green paint, dropping the cap a moment later. And arcing it downward in a loud snap that makes my briefs feel like an iron prison. “Not tonight,” she chokes out.
I take several deep breaths before speaking, so the lust in my voice doesn’t scare her. “When you’re ready, you’ll look at the world beyond these walls and find your own truth in it, lass. It is a bad place in many ways, but it’s…” I beg my mind for the right words to help this disillusioned girl who is slowly realizing she’s been lied to. Kept locked away. “It’s a million avenues and you can walk down your own without defining it. It can be chaos or an executed plan. Whatever makes it yours.”
Again, she listens carefully to each word, her gray eyes curious. “And what makes the world yours, Duncan?”
Before you? Destruction of life. Loneliness. Emptiness.
Now?
“Possibilities. Maybe…if I can quiet the chaos enough to see beauty…” Like yours. Like you. “I can be someone my parents would have been proud of. Instead of someone who became so acquainted with darkness and pain, it turned into the only thing that fed him.”
She worries her bottom lip. “But isn’t what I do to you considered…pain?”
“Ach, no, lass. They are two very different kinds of pain.” My attention is drawn to the small swells of her tits, my fingers itching to play with the ruby-red nipples hidden inside her nightgown. “Your pain leads to pleasure. So much more than I deserve. You make me work for the…worthiness of it. I’ve never been more fulfilled than when I came at your feet. You made me earn the right.” I finger the hem of her nightgown, noting the way her knees sneak together, pressing. Is her pussy turning wet? “Maybe next time you’ll allow me to put my come between your legs.”
A flick of her wrist releases a spray of paint. “Are you asking for permission, Duncan?”
This wee girl nearly buckles my knees with her whispered question, every cell in my body rushing madly in a state of unruly anticipation. Am I really going to be allowed inside this angel? After everything I’ve done, after the darkness that I’ve consumed and created, the universe is going to allow me a pleasure beyond my wildest imagination? “Yes,” I hiss. “I’m asking permission.”
Her blink is innocent. “Ask properly.”
I’m going to ejaculate down the leg of my pants before I lay a finger on her. There is an invisible leash between us. One end is in her tiny hand, the other end is attached to a collar around my neck. If she asked me to fight a war against the entire population right now and win, I would attempt it. I would attempt anything for her to be happy with me. Satisfied. “Please may I put my come between your legs?”
The lids of her eyes grow heavy with arousal, her toes curling into the earth. “How?”
“By fuckin’ ye,” I blurt in a pained rush, dizzy from the lack of blood in the northern region of my body. I’m stooped partially forward from the weight in my balls. “By working this cock as deep as it’ll go in your little body.”
She looks down at the appendage in question, where it strains eagerly against the fly of my pants, observing it beneath long black eyelashes. Then, slowly, she traces it with that pinkie finger. “It might not get very far.”
Christ. “An inch would be more than I deserve.”
Thea looks almost pained by that statement of truth, tilting her head at me. Reaching up with both hands to cup the sides of my face. “The way you talk about…what you deserve. Being fed by pain and darkness. What have you been through outside these walls, my giant?”
“Things you’ll never encounter,” I vow. “Things I’ll never allow to come near you.”
“You’ll forget about these terrible things while you’re inside me?”
