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I know my voice is harsh, but it’s how I speak to everyone. I’ve never developed a softer side, but if the world were different and Carina could be mine in all the ways I’ve dreamed, I’d be her dark marshmallow prince. I’d whisper the sweetest words into her ear and praise the fuck out of her for taking my cock down her throat until she lost consciousness.
Such a good cock sucker for Papa. You make me proud.
Ah, how I would rearrange myself for her.
“Good girl,” I say as I loop my arm under her legs and around her back, feeling the ridges of her spine and her ribs making my heart hurt for my little princess whose been taught that curves are the enemy.
So many things to undo.
As I lift her like a feather, the soft pressure of her head rests on my shoulder, making me swirl with a protective, possessive force. With her body against my chest, I can’t breathe. I’ve never touched her like this.
I knew better.
Now, oh God, now, what have I done?
“Thank you, Papa.”
The hallway is a blur as my boots meet the wooden planks with a thump, thump in furious succession. Lust invades my brain and my blood, seeping into the deepest recesses of my marrow and my soul.
I wanted her before, but now that I’m cradling her softness in my arms, against my heart, there is no going back. Whatever fury waits on the other side of making her mine, I will subdue or conquer it; but nothing can stop the tidal wave that is crashing around us now.
Inside the storage room, I make a line for the wall where a stone-carved countertop with a deep sink is flanked by two large arched topped walnut cabinets full of medicines and supplies. Out here in the north, help is not readily available; I keep everything here for emergencies when even my power and money would not be enough to have medical services here fast enough.
“I’m really fine, I don’t need you to fuss, Papa.”
“You keep calling me that while I’m holding onto you—” I grimace, stalling the words on the tip of my tongue, shaking them away and settling her onto the counter facing me. “Never mind. Here, let me look.”
She offers her hands held between us as I grab her wrist with one hand and open the cabinet to my left with another, exposing shelves of bandages and tapes, antibiotics and painkillers.
Guilt lashes at me like the winter wind as I expose the gash, throwing the napkin to the slate floor. A trickle of blood oozes from the cut, staining her flesh and twisting knots down my back. Even now as she bleeds, my cock pulses behind my zipper, straining to get to the heat between her legs.
“See? Barely needs a Band-Aid.” She slays me with those golden eyes, the same ones I remember from the cowering little girl of six years old.
I’m a monster.
“I can’t risk infection.” The cut is only half an inch long and not deep, but the sight of her damaged, even from an accident, stirs rage inside me. “There will be no more glasses used. Only plastic.”
“Papa.” She smiles crooking her eyebrow. “It was anaccident,I don’t think ridding the house of glasses is a reasonable reaction.”
“I’m not a reasonable man,” I snap, and my heart tears in two when she winces, her shoulders falling, chest caving as if she needs to be far from me. I bite into my cheek until the metallic tang of blood drifts over my tongue, lashing her wrist with antibiotic ointment, then covering it with a gauze pad and taping it in place. “Or a good man,” I mumble as my thumb traces the veins under the silky skin of her forearm.
She shakes her head. “That’s not true. You are a great man.”
There is so much you don’t know. So many things that would turn your naïve opinion of me inside out.
“You don’t know me.”
Her palms rest warm on my cheeks, the innocent touch disarming me and making my balls feel like lead weights between my legs.
“If you were such a bad man, why would people come from hundreds of miles away for your party every year? They all treat you like you are a king when they come. Who else would dress up as Santa and give away thousands…tensof thousands of dollars’ worth of presents? Not a bad man.”
If she only knew that all those people that come to our annual party, men and women, also have dark secrets. All of them hiding in one way or another from the crimes of their past. For a short respite here at Christmas, we all come together and lay down our grudges and wars for a few days a year.
“Carina…” I whisper, leaning my forehead to hers, my restraint shattering into a thousand icy crystals around my feet.
“Yes, Papa.” She draws back, her nose crinkled, lips pursed, then she says, “Lots of other handsome men are coming tomorrow. Maybe I’ll find my own prince charming of the north to sweep me away—”
I clench my teeth, dropping her wrist, clamping my fingers around her throat, my vision laced in red.
