Harmon - Pandora's box
"You're a freak, you know that?" I said to her, staring at the side of Olivia's face as she clutched at her bowl of popcorn littered with Skittles. She just kept munching away, like she didn't even hear me. "Let's watch something else. Reality TV perhaps, or a movie, like a normal twenty-two year old," I chastised her, but her eyes remained glued to the big screen as she consumed details of Ted Bundy murdering over thirty women.
"Don't be stupid. Normal blows," she said absentmindedly, setting the popcorn aside to lay her head down on my shoulder and snuggle up to me. "Besides, you're not twenty-two daddy," she purred, the sudden presence of her body up against mine and seduction in her voice making my dick twitch.
Was she into older men or was she just into me?
I let the moment pass, accepting her body heat mingling with mine. After what we did a week ago and three nights before that, this was a tame exchange. It took all week of distancing myself from her to get my dick in check.
Then fucking Tuesday came, an anniversary of sorts for us. I couldn't avoid her forever and the guilt of keeping her locked up in my suite while I looked for Marino's man made me weak. Naively hoping being here meant we'd go back to our normal, I succumbed to the request to be with her tonight.
She spent the week in nothing but lingerie and my shirts. Not directly making a play for my dick, but clearly flaunting her body. Game recognized game and Olivia Hunter was nothing else if not a player. My baby girl was playing the long game, but then so was I. A week did nothing to dull the passionate pull I felt towards her. Would she chip away at my armor faster than I could get her home?
This was the calm before the storm. I was stalling us both as hard as I could. Limiting our interactions as much as possible without being too obvious by throwing distractions at her.
I gave her busy work that she could do to help run the resort. I had a big screen brought up to my suite which she knew was just for her, because TV wasn't my thing. Even when she asked for a fucking karaoke machine, I indulged her. I just hoped Will showed up before our delicate truce broke so he could take her home while I dealt with Marino and his people.
"When we started watching crime documentaries every Tuesday fours years ago today, I thought it was just a phase. That you'd get over this shit," I said reproachfully, but my voice had softened and my arm was wrapping around her shoulders.
I watched myself pull her close, like I always did when we sat down for these things. A light bulb went off above my head and I finally saw it. The reason for Macy's paranoia. This shit wasn't okay. There was no truce. Olivia was just picking her battles. Biding her time. When did being next to her like this become so obviously intimate and stupid inappropriate?
"At first, I was just trying to seem grown up and interesting so you'd agree to take my virginity," she announced candidly with a shrug, leaning into me. "You never took the hint though, did you daddy?"
I forced my body not to react, but there was one part of me that wasn't likely to listen. Blood was flooding my dick as I heard myself confess to her.
"You're not subtle, baby girl. I knew. Of course I did. I'm glad you stopped waiting for me. Live, Olivia. You and me, it's never going to—"
"But then I got really into this stuff," she said, cutting me off, returning her gaze to the screen. "Did you know Ted Bundy—"
Should have left well enough alone. Let her finish speaking. Shouldn't have sat down with her in the first place. Everything was different now. My fucking hard on. The way I couldn't stop watching her instead of the screen. The need to be closer to her and talk to her more. Make her laugh. It was just like old times, but this wasn't fucking innocent at all. I was a fool. Did I always treat her like a lover?
"Did you really? Or did my baby girl get caught up in the fantasy that is us?" I blurted out, caught up in the moment as I took our time together apart in my head, evaluating our interactions like an outsider.
Without fail, I placed a kiss on her cheek every time I met her. Her arms wound around my neck naturally whenever she was having a bad day or had something to celebrate. And what did I do? I took her into my arms just like I would now. Behind closed doors. In public. It didn't matter. When she entered my personal space, I welcomed it, because she gave me solace.
Did I get caught up in the fantasy that was us and not even notice?
We were at war with each other, her digging for truths about me she couldn't handle and me trying desperately not to claim her as mine. So why was I still drawing her closer, laying her head down on my chest?
Baby girl, what are you still doing in my arms when I'm the enemy?
She must have felt my eyes on her as I stroked her back because she looked up at me.
"I'm not glad, daddy. I wish I kept waiting, because you were wrong when you said our time wouldn't come," she said defiantly, wrapping her arms around my waist. "It's our time, Harmon."
I couldn't stop myself from squeezing her body against mine as she stained my shirt with warm, silent tears. She wasn't throwing herself at me. This shit was real. Wasn't it?
Say something. Anything. It could be so easy. Within these walls, she could be mine. I wanted her. She wanted me. I could make the tears stop. Give her just a little more of me. Teach her the meaning of the word ecstasy. Give her joy. How much of me did she already have?
"What are you carrying on those big, broad shoulders of yours, daddy? I can't believe I didn't ask before," she murmured into my chest. "What came before Billy and I, Harmon?"
No judgement or fear in her voice. Just a plea to be let in.
Let her in. When have you ever succeeded in saying no to letting her in?
"No more questions. Watch the documentary, Miss Hunter," I said stoically, but the words she wanted were on the very tip of my tongue.
Pain. Struggle. Torment. Death.
Baby girl, I'm Hades, I'm the harbinger of death. I'm worse than a killer. I'm the nightmare you have with your eyes open.
I shut that shit out a long time ago. It wasn't me anymore. The only me she needed to know was the one holding her.
Except she proved it a week ago. Was proving it now. I was still capable of emotions that made me weak. Pain. So much fucking pain.
Baby girl, let daddy be. I deserve the fucking misery.
"It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay," she said soothingly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," she said, moving to straddle me and cup my cheek like I usually did to her. "Nothing you say will make me leave, Harmon," she said, pressing her forehead against mine, no longer prying.
Just offering herself to me.
"JR hurts people but daddy obliterates them," I said, finding just a sliver of peace in this admission before my mind turned on me. "Is that the man you want fucking you?" I screamed into her face, grabbing onto her forearms and squeezing hard.
So much pain. Mind numbing, crippling pain. Memories of who I was. What I did to survive had me wanting to rip the world to shreds.
Her eyes widened and she inhaled deeply. And the fear was back. Hers. Mine. I couldn't tell the difference.
Yes, say yes anyway, my special baby girl.
She did this. The state I was in, the self loathing, guilt, rage I worked so hard to bury for seven years and she brought it forth in a matter of a week.
Baby girl, you're weakness. Daddy can't keep you safe if he's weak.
"I don't know that man. Only this one. My protector," she tried to rally, to put on a brave face for me, but her hands were trembling and she was shaking her head as she went into denial.
Stay safe, Olive. Please don't let me destroy you, baby girl.
"I can't protect shit. I'm just a guy who fucked you once, like you wanted," I said coldly, desperately fighting to return the contents of Pandora's box, tossing her off me and rising from the couch. "Get the fuck over it."