C H A P T E R 38
MY COLOUR
Puppeteer
I ’ ll need to keep an eye on her. I don't mind her roaming the house but she needs to stay away from that door. I'm in two minds about warning her but If I warn her she will take that as an invitation to snoop further. We proved that.
“That door. Where does it go?” Well, there goes that idea.
“I will say this once. And only once.” I lock the garage door behind her, peering over my shoulder at her curious expression, hanging onto my words.“Stay away from it. Do I make myself clear?” She looks down at the floor like I'm telling her off. And I guess I am but she should know by now it's to protect her.
“You said no more secrets, Hays.” I stare at the ceiling, rolling my eyes in frustration.
“This is different. This has nothing to do with you.” Her throat bobs and I now hate being like this with her as my hands rub her shoulders deeply.“Just- trust me. OK? I promise you. This is to protect you.” Her eyes soften as I speak the word promise and she drops her hostility.
Play - Sink or Swim - Artemas’
“Ok…” She nods with sincerity. She's put so much trust in me that I owe her this. My throat itches at her submission, letting her arms go and she smiles at me softly. She walks over to the sofa where she quickly changes the subject, tracing her fingers over the patchwork and holes in the stitching.
“We need a new sofa.” My face scrunches up in surprise.
“Do , we now?” We ? She's moving quickly. Not that I am against the idea.
“Well, If I'm going to be living here, don't I get a say? It's not exactly like I will be going anywhere anytime soon.” I'm smiling beneath the surface but I won't show her that.
“And what, pray tell, would you like?” She puts her legs up on the couch, cradling her head with her arms behind her neck looking right at home.
“Now you're spoiling me.”
And I'd do it.
“This place needs some much-needed TLC.” She states the obvious and I shake my head, staring around the room realising how I vowed this place would stay untouched. It's battered and ugly, but it was what she wanted and I'd left it exactly how she did but I also never intended to end up in prison for six years, meaning this home rotted with the apparition of them inside it. This place is all I have left. But she's right. Things need attention and I've been so caught up in my lust for revenge that I didn't notice how dead this house is. It's a coffin for the life I lost but she makes me want to tend to it. Like putting flowers on a tombstone to give it colour.
Things that I wouldn't have thought twice about until meeting my Little Colour.
“A few coats of paint. Some plants?” My amusement finally slips, leaning against the corner of the sofa until I'm practically sitting on it, peering down my nose at her.
“I think she'd like that.” At first she looks surprised but then her eyes relax, almost relieved that I spoke about my mother as if she's still with us. I know she wants to learn who I am and dig deep underneath my pain. Make me feel . And it's working. But she knows that too, and that's the problem. She's like ivy, crawling her way inside my walls. These walls. This house. My prison. Weaving her way inside my heart with her poison.
I catch myself staring at her lips a little too long, pulling my focus away. I glare at the dry and flaky paint which is meant to be cream but is now warped greys with dirt marks dulling its colour.
“I'll see what I can do.” Her smile lights up my day. This drive to give her anything and everything she wants, this provider and protector inside of me is breaking through my mask.
She grabs her journal from the other end of the sofa. A little spot she's designated to hibernate with blankets and pillows.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you're writing?” She clutches the book, tucking her legs underneath her.
“If you tell me what's behind that door.” Annoyance plagues my face.
“ Alora .”
“I'm kidding. Sorry-” her fingers graze the paper, contemplating whether or not to tell me the contents of her little world.“I've never shown anyone my writing.” My eyes narrow, trying to figure out why she wants to be a writer when she can't even share her work.
“ Why not?”
“Because it's not worth reading.” I want to throw her against a wall and smack her ass for doubting herself.
“And how do you know that if you've never let anyone read it.” She's her own worst critic.
“I bet you've never read a book in your life.” Her messy hair scatters across her nose as she falls back into the couch, blowing it out of her face in irritation.
“Do mechanical books about engines count?” My answer is laced with sarcasm and she knows exactly what I mean, trying to suck back in a smile as she thins her lips, but her dimples betray her.
“You're the last person I'd let read it.” I'd believe her if she wasn't grinning like a cheshire cat.
“ Ouch -” I slide into the seat, slowly creeping my way towards her playfully. Mischief writing my face.
“Haydennnnnn….” Warning laces her tongue before I leap on her, pinning her underneath me watching her stretch her arm out as far as she can to keep it from my reach.“NO!- no! Hayden No!-” I could do this all day just to hear her uncontrollable laughter blessing my ears, purposefully reaching for it without the goal of actually taking it, watching her try to wiggle her way out of my hold. From underneath me.
“Just one page.” I taunt her, taking my tongue to her throat listening to her gasp with surprise, clutching the book harder so she doesn’t drop it.
“It’s not happening!” Her fight is fading, breathing heavily down my ear and I want to sink my teeth into her neck to really give her something to fight against. Relight that fading glow with pain.
My hand reaches out grabbing it effortlessly, holding it in the air and she goes limp where her arms gone dead, panting with adrenaline pumping through her gaze. I could easily take it right now. I won’t. But that fear licking at her trembling lip is keeping my hand there, watching her fight all the ways to resist her temptations. There is so much want in her eyes. Like she’s forgotten all about it as our eyes stare into different worlds. Holding it. Her eyes find my mouth, darting back up to my eyes like she’s caught herself looking and I pull the book back in, placing it on her chest between us.
“Careful Puppet . I might just be the star of your new story.” Her cheeks fall strawberry red, gripping it to her body like a vice and that tells me everything I need to know.
??
S he’s sleeping peacefully as usual. She hasn’t had night terrors for quite a while which eases my mind. That night is finally letting her rest. Can’t say the same for me though. It plays on loop thinking of all the ways I could have prevented it, but nothing would have prevented this. I was too hell bent on taking his life. I keep asking myself, would I still have done it if she had made herself known before I pulled the trigger? And in the heat of the moment, I don't think even she would have been able to stop me. I just thank whoever the hell is up there that she didn’t watch me pull the trigger that night.
I finish my cigarette, hopping off the trunk of the car and make my way inside. My nightly routine that I've noticed helps me mellow out in the evenings. I slide into bed next to her, pulling the blanket up to cover her bare shoulders where she’s moved about and get comfortable. I get about two hours a night now which is more than I ever used to get. Her soft breathing has become my lullaby.
I lay there staring at her for a while, admiring the random tiny curls in her hair and the way she hugs her hand when she sleeps.My fingers find her back, tracing her velvet skin down to her spine and I don't even realise I'm doing it until she moves slightly, whimpering on instinct. Even asleep her body is yearning for me and my groin twitches.
Play - ‘Archangel - Burial’
I paint an abstract piece of art on her back with my fingers, crawling up the back of her neck drawing out her timid whines as our bodies slowly close the gap until my torso is flush against her ass. Pushing the blanket to run down her arms exposing the curves in her hips, she digs herself into me like an invitation and I’m way too fucking horny for this shit. Trailing my hand until I find that soft crease in between her lips and her thigh, I rub against the silk of her pyjamas, pulling her in closer until she’s practically inside of me, exhaling slowly to calm my mind-numbing temptation, so loud I can’t hear myself think.
Her sleepy hand searches for mine cautiously as she quivers slightly, sliding her fingers above mine before slowly guiding my hand as she grabs onto my fingers, moving by millimetres as her soft little breaths quicken their pace. My mouth parts, inching towards the sensitive area at the back of her neck listening to a heavy sigh escape her mouth. She wants me to touch her.
I shut out the angel on my shoulder only concentrating on the one in front of me, poking the tips of my tongue against the ridge of her hairline, feeling her shudder against me and her noises make my hairs stand on end. I grip her inner thigh tighter in sync with my jaw as I rock into her frame, grinding against the warmth of her ass, sucking out her fear, pumping her with confidence as her hand finally presses mine between her legs.
“Is this what you want?” My voice is husky and raw, teasing her ear with my teeth, she nods her head in agreement.
“Words, Innocence .”
A huff of disapproval slips out, pushing her head further back into me giving me access to my delicacy like that will be a better answer but I pull my head away.
“Yes…” Her voice is quiet and smothered in nerves. This time she doesn't want to touch herself. Needy Little Puppet . Gripping the back of my hand, edging me to release that agonising throb shooting through her core. This was still not an invitation to conquer her body but it was more than I needed to get my teeth grinding.
My middle and index finger find the crease between her pussy, already feeling how damp she is for me through the fabric. I buck my hips into her from behind pushing a high pitch squeak out of her throat as she moves herself away from me in panic.
“Shhhh… Relax.” Almost instantly her muscles mould into mine, embracing my touch as my mouth does the talking against her skin, caressing her jugular with my lips listening to her unfold against me.“There’s a good girl.”
I tug on her pyjama shorts, moving them to give me access and already my fingers are submerged in her juices, parting my mouth to let a silent sigh of pent-up need escape me. I run my fingers against her glossy lips, harshly biting my bottom lip to contain the throb crippling my pelvis. She’s so fucking soft I’m salivating, eager to eat her from the inside out. I circle her clit gently, feeling her jolt like a frightened puppy as my other arm slides underneath her head, my palm finding her throat as I rest it to keep her head secure.
“You’re already soaked, Puppet. ” My hand eases around her throat a little tighter the more noise she makes, chasing that high she so desperately craves, her broken whimpers fuelling me to lash my fingers over her sweet spot until she’s a puddle for me. I may know nothing about relationships, but I know how to work my way around a woman's body and the tension in her stomach muscles paint a volatile smirk across my face as I pull my strings, watching how I manipulate her body when she surrenders to me. She will come undone for me and I will take great pleasure in feasting on her demons.
She is without a voice, trying to mumble profanities underneath her breath as I indulge in her honey, playing with it between my fingers.
“What was that, Princess ? I didn’t quite hear that?” She seals her mouth shut and she will learn that gets her nowhere. I inch my fingers inside her tight little hole and her mouth bursts open, yelping out a whine.
“I want to hear you.”
My teeth find the ravine in her neck, drawing out those sweet moans as she grinds against the palm of my hand, riding in that bliss between her thighs.
“So needy for me…” I will play with what's mine until I'm satisfied. I’m enjoying this little game.
The only release she will be gifted is on the end of my fucking tongue.
Where it belongs.
I want to taste that first time like it’s my last meal.