Quotes
tears that brim in her eyes melt my heart. I’m not a man who enjoys, or even attempts, romance. I’m a trained killer. But when I see my beautiful Vixen’s tears, I can’t help but want to chase them away.
“Little miss Ginnie, come out, come out, and play,” he calls to me. The melodic tone of his voice makes every hair on my neck stand up.
Shoving my blankets off, I pad barefoot to the door and pull it open. There on the other side is Papa with a smirk on his face.
“Come. We need to sit and talk,” he tells me, turning away and heading to the living room. Once he’s settled in his rocking chair, he crooks his finger, and I obey, like a little puppet on a string.
He pulls me over his lap, my stomach over his thick thighs, and my hands on the carpet. There’s an eerie silence in the house. Papa’s heavy hand palms my ass, his hand covering one cheek.
“Now, little poppet,” he utters. “What were you and Trenton doing in the lake?” His question is cold, icy, and it turns my blood to stone. A harsh swat lands on my behind, causing me to whimper. I attempt to wiggle, to get away, but his hold on me is too tight. He is far too strong.
Another slap, and another. He doesn’t stop until I count to ten. Then I feel the cool air on my skin when he lifts the tunic over my hips. He massages the stinging flesh, then his fingers dip between my legs. Gently, they prod at me, causing me to cry out when he enters me with two thick digits. He doesn’t go deep inside, but it stings all the same.
“Did you want Trenton to do this?” His question is low and husky, but there’s anger dripping from every word.
Shoving my blankets off, I pad barefoot to the door and pull it open. There on the other side is Papa with a smirk on his face.
“Come. We need to sit and talk,” he tells me, turning away and heading to the living room. Once he’s settled in his rocking chair, he crooks his finger, and I obey, like a little puppet on a string.
He pulls me over his lap, my stomach over his thick thighs, and my hands on the carpet. There’s an eerie silence in the house. Papa’s heavy hand palms my ass, his hand covering one cheek.
“Now, little poppet,” he utters. “What were you and Trenton doing in the lake?” His question is cold, icy, and it turns my blood to stone. A harsh swat lands on my behind, causing me to whimper. I attempt to wiggle, to get away, but his hold on me is too tight. He is far too strong.
Another slap, and another. He doesn’t stop until I count to ten. Then I feel the cool air on my skin when he lifts the tunic over my hips. He massages the stinging flesh, then his fingers dip between my legs. Gently, they prod at me, causing me to cry out when he enters me with two thick digits. He doesn’t go deep inside, but it stings all the same.
“Did you want Trenton to do this?” His question is low and husky, but there’s anger dripping from every word.
Closing my eyes, I think of Trenton. I wonder if he’s cold. I hate the pit. It’s one of the worst places. And he’s there, all alone. I wish he were here, holding me like he used to do. I remember times I would fall asleep with his heavy arm wrapped around me.
Over the years, I’ve watched him change. His body became bigger, wider. Muscles formed on his shoulders and arms. His torso was just perfect, like the boys in my magazines.
His face changed too. It morphed from smooth to rugged, with a dark dusting of stubble that tickled my hands when I
Over the years, I’ve watched him change. His body became bigger, wider. Muscles formed on his shoulders and arms. His torso was just perfect, like the boys in my magazines.
His face changed too. It morphed from smooth to rugged, with a dark dusting of stubble that tickled my hands when I
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