Page 28 of Painter's Obsession

Standing, I adjust my clothes. “I really do have to go.”

She walks me to the door, her hand lingering on the chipped white frame. I turn back, cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her lips—slow and deliberate. She melts into me again, and for a moment, I let myself savor her warmth. But I can’t have her. Not the way I need to.

The big bad wolf is hungry, but this little piggy can’t be devoured. Not yet.

I pull away, offering her a soft smile. “I’ll text you.”

She smiles back, leaning against the door frame. “Okay. Drive safe.”

I nod, casting her one final look before stepping into the night. As I slide into my car and start the engine, I glance back toward the trailer. Gabriela stands in the doorway, a silhouette of sweetness against the darkness.

I wave and drive off, the hunger gnawing at me.

I practically skip through the grass, the anticipation and excitement rushing through my body as soon as I turn the street to my house. I breathe in the night air. I’m sure she’s thirsty and famished, but I don’t care. I’m only here for a specific reason–to break and create. My hands move to the scanner, and I smile when the door unlocks, pushing it open.

I step inside. My little wildflower can move now. She scurries back, her eyes wide as I step into view and clap.

“Hi,” I say, upbeat, but what can I say? I am excited. Predators hunt to survive, and fuck, I am starving.

Instantly, I pull off my black cashmere turtleneck, tossing it to the side. She’s still naked, the puddle of urine trailing down the drain as she sits in her filth. Did she think that would discourage a man like me? As if.

“I’m—“ she croaks, her hand moving to her throat. “Thirsty.”

I smile as I walk toward her, my hands moving to unbuckle my jeans.

“Close your eyes if you want something to drink.”

Her head shakes no at first, but the need wins. So Freudian of her. Closing her eyes, I say, “Open your mouth,” softly, as I untuck my cock. Reluctantly, she opens her mouth. With a smile, I aim and hit.

A stream of warm piss goes into her mouth. She spits it up, moving forward as the rest of the stream lands over her hair.

“Why?” she sobs, her nails digging into the white tile .

I click my tongue as I shake my cock, dripping out the remaining urine.

“Because I wanted to.”

Slipping out of my jeans, I toss them to the side.

“I just do things. Maybe boredom, but I do them.”

The tears stream down her face as her eyes lock on my erect dick, standing like an invitation, waiting to sink inside her and destroy her pussy.

“No,” she begins, her voice breaking like brittle glass. “Please.” She curls into herself, knees drawn up to shield her chest, her trembling hands gripping her small, pale form as if she could somehow disappear into the shadows.

“Pick a number between one and three,” I tell her, my voice smooth but coiled tight with malice. My hand moves, stroking myself with deliberate slowness. She sobs, shaking her head violently, strands of hair sticking to her tear-streaked face.

“I’m a virgin,” she screams, her words a last, desperate shield. Her declaration hits me like a match to dry kindling. The tight leash of control I’ve held snaps, the fire consuming me. No one denies me what’s mine. No one lies to me and survives unscathed.

“Then let me break you in,” I snarl, spitting the words as I decide her fate with cold detachment. “Number one.” My voice cuts through the air, sharp and final, sealing her doom.

“Please,” she whimpers again, her voice cracking like the fragile porcelain of her defiance. I step behind her, my fingers curling cruelly into her soft flesh. She squirms and cries out, a high-pitched, animalistic squeal, but there’s no escape. My fingers press further, finding her warm, unspoiled folds, her body betraying her as instinct overrides reason.

She writhes, her pathetic attempts at escape only pushing her deeper into the inevitable. I hiss, feeling her clench around me, her resistance a tantalizing struggle. Slowly, methodically, I move, savoring her broken sobs, the sound of her body yielding.

“My little flower,” I growl through gritted teeth, my voice thick with dark satisfaction, “just got deflowered.” I pull my hand back, smeared crimson glistening in the low light. My first. A wicked grin twists my lips as I sink back into her trembling form, a predator devouring its prey.

“Please,” she sobs, voice raw, but it only fuels me. Now that I’ve had a taste, there’s no turning back. I don’t stop until there’s nothing left to take, until she’s nothing but a shattered shell of what she was before.

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