Page 19 of Paid With Innocence

It slaps me in the head, and I burst out laughing. Talk about sensory overload.

Orson almost chuckles, but he’s too busy fucking me, and I can barely even move as every nerve in my body lights up like a firecracker. But somehow, I manage to grab the tube of acrylic and twist the top off.

Giggling, I raise it up over Orson’s head. “Hey, Daddy, you want to paint with me?”

I squeeze the tube, splattering his muscular back with cadmium red. His hips halt, and he looks up at me in shock, eyes wide, jaw open. I bite my lower lip and giggle.

Where has this feistiness come from?

I called him Daddy!

Orson’s awoken a side of me I didn’t even know existed…but I like it. And from the way he’s looking at me now, so does he.

“Oh, you’re naughty,” he growls. He tries to snatch the paint from me, but I squeeze it again, this time spraying him all over his shoulders and chest. “Gimmie that!”

He grabs my wrist in a vise-like grip, and I tumble on top of him as he pulls it away. We both slam into the base of a stool, knocking it over.

Cadmium red splashes all over my tits, and my hips start to move on their own as I stare down at Orson, who is looking hungrily up at me like a gorgeous devil.

Raw, primal, male hunger.

Just like my innocence was radiating off of me, his desire radiates off him. And as I rock my hips faster, his cock grows harder in me, stretching me beyond what I thought was possible.

It hurts, but it’s a delicious hurt. A hurt I was meant to feel.

And I want more.

I grab another tube from the table—ultramarine blue. It splashes down on his massive chest, mixing with the red like an abstract painting.

Orson growls, reaches back, and grabs a bottle of lemon yellow, which he immediately squirts directly into my hair.

I gasp. “Oh, you did not!”

He winks back like the charming rascal he is. “What are you gonna do about it?” he asks, seizing me by the hips.

I try to grab another tube, but he presses me down on his cock, impaling me with such depth that I cry out. I slam down against him, matching his thrusts. Paint sprays with each collision from our bodies.

We’re an absolute mess. A gorgeous mess. And I love it.

“You’re gonna make me come again,” he growls. His voice is so strong, so firm, that I can feel its resonance in my bones.

“Already?” I whimper. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

His eyes blaze. “It normally isn’t. But you do things to me, angel. You drive me crazy.”

His words snap inside me like a bolt of lightning. My head tilts back. “I…I’m close, Daddy.”

There I go again, using that word. It just feels right, and Orson growls when I use it.

“I’m gonna breed you, baby,” he growls, his grip tightening on me, despite us both being covered in paint. “I’m gonna go off in you, open up that cervix, and get you pregnant.”

I gasp, rocked by his words.

My brain can’t even process them, but my body can.

My legs instinctively wrap around him, and I lower myself as deep as possible, taking every inch, sheathing his cock all the way up to the base. I run my hands across his chest, threading them through his paint-covered hair.

We’re both a mess, but I’m ready to be messier.