Her Innocence

Leon Siegel

I watched her eat her ice cream. I watched her watch the movie, I watched her cry and then she just didn't stop. I was embarrassed for her. It was obvious that she'd just needed an excuse to cry. I couldn't stand when people cry, urgh epically those arseholes who are like 'No please! I have a wife! I have children!'.

But for the first time in a very long time, I was kinda concerned. Well, I mean, I didn't want a depressed wife. I need a strong woman who can boss around the men. Not this crying heap of a mess.

Anyway, I watched her cry herself to sleep until she had no tears left. I picked up the ice cream and put the rest back in the freezer. Then I picked her up in my arms and carried her up the stairs, back to her room.

When I laid her out on the bed, she sighed and rolled over, curling up into a little ball. I left the room and went to my own.

I didn't think I'd like her as much as I did. The last time I saw her, she was a child in pigtails and a silly little dress.

I nearly didn't recognise her when she walked in with her father. I almost thought she was his side chick.

Her hair was much longer than I remembered, the dark brown almost black waves reaching her waist. Her sky blue eyes sparkling in the light. And her t**s, man did they come in, along with her arse.

And I think I'm getting to like her as a person too. When she joked about being gay in front of my father, I could've fist bumped her.

As I lay in bed thinking about her, I became increasingly aware that I was at least somewhat attracted to her.

When I woke the next morning, I was as stiff as a board. All I could think was how much I wanted to bury my boner in her wet p***y.

As I strode into the kitchen that morning, I was greeted by the smell of pancakes.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Cat stood at the stove, still in her little night dress, flipping pancakes. Her thick, messy hair pulled into a bun. She bit her bottom lip as she tried to perfectly flip one of the pancakes. her hips swaying in time to the music she'd set up on my surround sound system. I think it was doja cat?

"Go ahead, make yourself at home." I joked, making her jump.

She turned around and looked up at me, a deep blush spreading across her face.

"Well this is my home now anyway, right?" She mouthed off at me. It pissed me off, but the sort of pissed off you get at a puppy for chewing on your hand.

"You actully need to watch yourself, one day you'll mouth off at the wrong guy." I warned her and she had the audacity to roll her eyes.

"That's what they all keep saying." She complained as she poured another pancake.

I leant across the bench and went to grab a pancake.

to my absolute shock I was slapped on the hand with the spatula she was using to flip the pancakes.

Blind rage ran through my blood. I growled uncontrollably and ran around the bench. I picked her up and carried her over my shoulder to the couch.

throwing her down onto the couch her night dress rode up exposing her round arse.

"I've had enough of your s**t!" I yelled as I slapped her across the arse. She let out a scream.

"f**k you!"

"No! You. Will. Listen. To. Me!" I smacked her again with each word until I saw my hand bloom blue across her cheek.

When I stopped I realised she was crying, not like last night kind of crying. Crying for her life crying.

Great, heaving, shuddering sobs as she lay there.

I walked out of the room and went to turn the stove off.