Set Me Free

Honey and Indica

Braxton

The soft light of dusk plays with the colors in Sofia's hair; tints of honey gold, caramel, silvery blonde. It's still kinked and curled and wild, framin' her round face and accentuating all her girlish features. She's a princess. Clear as day to me—was before me, is now. Fine by me. She can stay a princess long as she likes if she stays sweet as well.

I smirk at the t-shirt I chose for her to wear, one with a skull and bat wings. Makes her even more sexy and allurin' to a man like me. I crave that balance of sweet and spicy. Somehow, I know that's just who Sof is, deep down. A nugget of darkness sheltered in an angel's heart.

The scent of Logan's cookin' makes my stomach grumble, and I push my arms beneath her limp, exhausted body. We both slept the day away, and I know she needs more, but food will have to come first. I adjust her in my arms, her pink-tinged cheek rollin' to thud against my chest. Her face pinches in annoyance at this disruption, and I snort down at her.

"Gotta eat dinner, Girly. Logan'll throw a bitch fit if ya don't," I say to her, walkin' us out to the kitchen. Logan flips me the bird before he bends to the oven to check his baked potatoes. Those big round baby blues blink open, bloodshot with exhaustion. She frowns, top lip wide and pink and full off sass. I give her a squeeze and plop her down into her own chair, not botherin' with chainin' her up.

"Fuck, pops, what'd ya do, give her a fuckin' gram?" Logan says as she wavers on her seat and my hands jut out to steady her. I frown. I hadn't thought I'd given her too much. I know it's safe for humans; they were the ones who perfected this particular substance. Either way, in her current state, she ain't runnin' anytime soon.

I drop down in the chair next to her, keepin' one hand on her shoulder. She sags in her chair, slippin' back into sleep. I grunt in annoyance as she begins to slide down like a melting glob of ice cream. Putting my hands under her pits, I pull her over and onto my lap, her cheek findin' its spot on my chest again. She sighs, shivering at the warmth I know I exude, and I watch as those milky thighs erupt in goosebumps.

I can't help but to smooth my palm over the length of her exposed flesh, tellin' myself I'm what's keepin' her warm on this chilly spring evening.

"Only gave her half of what I'd take normally," I muse, starin' down at her little peaceful face. I can hear Logan snort, and my eyes flick to his. Insolent little shit.

"Yeah, well, girls like her don't know the first thing about good grass."

I chuckle at the truth of his statement before shruggin'.

"S'pose that's good for me, then. She won't know the difference between shit or not."

"Mmm," she moans, her little brows furrowin' somethin' fierce. When she blinks her eyes open again, it's to glare at me. I do my best to hide my smirk; pissin' off a hungry, tired Girly feels like playin' with fire. Then again, a thrill chases through my veins at the idea of pissin' her off, gettin' her all worked up just to calm her down with the crack of my belt.

She raises a thin hand and swats at my chest, blinking more, albeit slowly.

"Shut up, mmm-sleeping," she mumbles. I grip her cheeks, pinchin' 'em between my thick fingers, and her eyes glare once more.

"Best rethink tellin' me to shut up, when I'm the one feedin' ya and clothin' ya," I growl. Her eyes widen, their glossiness clearing in her fear of my retribution. I give her a curt nod, showin' we both understand. She 'hmphs' and pouts, but she twists in my arms and just buries her face more in my chest. I bite back my chuckle, disguising it as a cough.

Logan snorts again, pullin' out the potatoes.

"Never were as nice to me, cocksucker."

I raise my brow at him.