"Well, it doesn't make you bad, princess. But your daddy should probably know better, and instead he wants to eat you up." Richard grins when she chews on her lip, resisting the urge to pinch those reddened cheeks. Jesus, God, she's too much, just too much of everything. Too cute, too sweet, too erotic, too young, too-- "Oh, Salome." He sighs and shakes his head, smiling. "I love you to pieces, darling girl."
There's a flash of anger behind his eyes, like a little bolt of white lightning, when she confesses she's given boys head. It's not a shock, of course, but that doesn't stop the fact from hitting a possessive nerve that gives him the instant urge to go choke some hapless teenage boy to death with his bare hands. But for now, he lets it go, a half-sneer, half-smile on his lips while he tilts his head. "Naughty little thing. Boys your age aren't worth the ten seconds it takes for a pretty girl like you to get them to cum."
A mental note to have a little discussion about that little gem of information gets tucked away and saved for later. Because that's not gonna fly, especially not anymore.
It's easy to overlook for now, though, between the so-sweet things she says and the hands that slide away his boxers. He sits up to help her, kicking off his trousers and tossing them with the rest of the abandoned clothes. The air is refreshing, and his anticipation is already relatively apparent, though he takes a moment before lying back down, taking Salome's face in his hands and examining her before shaking his head. He chuckles, sighing in that heavy, dreamy artist's way as he kisses her hard on the mouth and lies back down. "This doesn't even feel real, princess, I keep expecting to wake up. When did you get so attractive, Salome?"
He smirks, combing his fingers back through her hair, brows lifting. "Take it as slow as you like, sweetheart. I'm hardly expecting you to fit the whole thing down that pretty throat of yours, particularly not yet. But that's what those lovely hands of yours can help with."
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There's a flash of anger behind his eyes, like a little bolt of white lightning, when she confesses she's given boys head. It's not a shock, of course, but that doesn't stop the fact from hitting a possessive nerve that gives him the instant urge to go choke some hapless teenage boy to death with his bare hands. But for now, he lets it go, a half-sneer, half-smile on his lips while he tilts his head. "Naughty little thing. Boys your age aren't worth the ten seconds it takes for a pretty girl like you to get them to cum."
A mental note to have a little discussion about that little gem of information gets tucked away and saved for later. Because that's not gonna fly, especially not anymore.
It's easy to overlook for now, though, between the so-sweet things she says and the hands that slide away his boxers. He sits up to help her, kicking off his trousers and tossing them with the rest of the abandoned clothes. The air is refreshing, and his anticipation is already relatively apparent, though he takes a moment before lying back down, taking Salome's face in his hands and examining her before shaking his head. He chuckles, sighing in that heavy, dreamy artist's way as he kisses her hard on the mouth and lies back down. "This doesn't even feel real, princess, I keep expecting to wake up. When did you get so attractive, Salome?"
He smirks, combing his fingers back through her hair, brows lifting. "Take it as slow as you like, sweetheart. I'm hardly expecting you to fit the whole thing down that pretty throat of yours, particularly not yet. But that's what those lovely hands of yours can help with."