Chapter Ten
Kingston
Christ. How do I resist her charms?
Especially when she’s begging me to claim her.
Does she have any idea the beast she’s tempting? The first time I take her, it will be a struggle to be gentle. At this moment, with a bed mere feet away, it’s all I can do to keep from lifting up her skirts and petticoats, tearing off her panties, and shoving home inside her tight, virgin cunny.
“Faith, I’m not sure you realize what you’re asking for. You are an innocent, in so many ways.”
“If I’m an innocent, why does my flower keep getting so achy and wet, Papa?” She presses harder on my groin, and I move my hands to her shoulders and force her back.
“I want you to trust me before I take you into my bed, little one. That means we must get to know one another better first,” I explain.
“We have over four hours until our wedding,” she says matter-of-factly. “That’s plenty of time to get to know one another better. Besides, Papa, most marriages are arranged. Some of the women who work at the orphanage, including Mrs. Hawthorne, have said they never met their husbands before their wedding day.”
She speaks the truth and has a point, and my resolve to wait days, even weeks, before taking her into my bed, falters hard and fast. Tremors race up my inner thighs, my balls tighten, and my cock thickens and pulses so hard that dark spots momentarily cloud my vision as all the blood in my body rushes southward.
I exhale a harsh breath, growl, and yank her against me.
“Do you want Papa’s hardness in your little flower, Faith? Is that what you want?”
A needy whimper escapes her, and she thrusts her hips forward, her nearness driving me wild and close to the point of no return. If we’d already said our vows, I wouldn’t hesitate in this moment to give her exactly what she’s asking for.
“Yes, Papa. I want your cock in my cunny, pounding me hard. I want you to…fuck me, Papa. Please.”
Her crass words stun me, and despite the heat of the moment, I can’t ignore them. I’m still her Papa, and she’s still my little girl.
“That kind of language is a big no-no, Faith.” Still holding her flush against me, I raise up her skirt and petticoats to deliver a sharp swat to her panty-clad bottom. “If I hear another naughty word come out of your mouth, young lady, you won’t sit down for a week. Understand?” I give her two more swats.
“Ouch! Yes, Papa. I understand. I’m sorry.” With a pout, she steps back and rubs her chastised bottom.
“No rubbing. Hands at your sides. Good girl. Now, let’s go to the sunroom and have a chat.” I make a show of looking at my watch. “We have precisely three hours and fifty-five minutes to get to know one another better.”
A beautiful grin spreads across her face and she jumps up and down, while reaching for my hand. “Yay!” Her blonde waves bounce with her movements.
Her excitement is contagious. I return her smile and lead her downstairs, all the while hoping my rigid cock doesn’t bust through the front of my trousers. The sunroom overlooks the same field as the dining room. The ceiling and walls are made entirely of glass, but a small woodstove in the center of the room gives off enough heat to keep us warm.
We settle on a loveseat that overlooks the snow-covered landscape. I wrap an arm around Faith, and she leans on my shoulder.
“Tell me everything there is to know about you, Papa. Where you were born, all about your family, your work, every single little thing.”
“Little girls first,” I insist.
“But I’ve already told you all there is to know about me. That my mother died when I was six, and then my aunt and uncle kept me for only a few days before taking me to the orphanage. I lived there for fourteen years and then…”
“Fourteen years? That makes you twenty.” I’d believed her to be eighteen, as that is the age of most girls when they finally leave the orphanage. Knowing she’s a bit older than I originally thought comes as a relief. Most girls her age are married with two or three children by now.
“Oh, well, yes. I’m twenty. Almost twenty-one, in fact. When my aunt and uncle dropped me off, an older girl approached me and asked me my age. When I said six, she whispered that I ought to fib and say I’m younger, so that I’d be allowed to stay at the orphanage longer. My aunt and uncle didn’t stick around to answer any of Mrs. Hawthorne’s questions, just told her I was the child of a woman who’d died recently. They failed to admit they were my relatives. Anyway, so I lied about my age from the start, and that’s how I was able to live there for so long. However, I don’t feel I took advantage terribly, because I made myself as useful as possible over the years, cooking, cleaning, sewing, and helping to take care of the younger children as I became older.”
“I will admit the conditions inside the orphanage startled me today. Until this afternoon, I’d only stepped foot on the front porch when I delivered supplies. I’ve never gone inside before. The conditions…Faith, I will see what I can do to improve the orphanage. I know you must consider some of the girls your friends, and I would want to help them, taking your suggestions, of course.” The idea has been forming in my mind since the moment I saw Faith’s awful mattress constructed of rags. To my delight, she smiles and nods.
“Oh, Papa, that would be wonderful. Thank you. You are a good man.” She places a hand on my heart and leans in to deliver a quick kiss to my cheek. Despite myself, a flush overtakes my whole body. “Papa? Are you…blushing? Oh, you are!” She giggles and kisses my other cheek, and when she leans in for another kiss, I turn and capture her lips with mine.
Our first kiss starts out gently, but the urgency soon builds, and I cup her face hard and hold her still while I take command and deepen the kiss, tasting her sweetness as she moans and whimpers against my mouth. Her responsiveness spurns me onward, until we’re both panting heavily when I finally pull away.
Both of us, breathless with longing.
Three o’clock can’t come soon enough.
“Since I just told you more about me, Papa, could you tell me more about you now?” She rests her head back on my shoulder, in a gesture so natural, it could have been the thousandth time she’s done it.
“Of course, little one. I’ll tell you anything you wish to know.”
I start with my family history, informing her that my grandfather was an original founder of Gerrardsville, back in the days when this part of the world was still utterly lawless in the aftermath of society’s collapse. I briefly tell her of my late parents, my sister, who moved to Marystown with her husband and children, and my late wife and son, who passed away five years ago. When I speak of something sad in my past, she caresses and pats my arm, and I drink in her offered comfort like a man who was, until this moment, parched and dying of thirst.
The longer I talk to her, the more I feel as if I’m coming back to life. For years, I’d held the entire world at arm’s length. I’d loved my wife and son dearly, and rage consumed me after their untimely demise. Anger and heartache were my companions in the longest, darkest night I’ve ever known. And when I first helped Faith in the street and peered into her soulful blue eyes, that was the moment the sun peeked over the horizon, a brilliant dawn breaking through a pitch-black forest.
Her light has long past splintered through the thick, tall trees. It’s shining over the mountaintop and warming the once cold lands.