“Ugh,” I groan, not bothering to reply. Why are they coming backnow?They’re supposed to be in Florida for another week—a week I had planned on using to ruin my little nun. Show her who she belongs to now.
Joan roused the primal man inside of me. And beyond that, she’s starting to realize the truth of who she really is. All I need her to do now is accept it.
When I came home for lunch, I was admittedly a bit short with her, but I thought she’d notice my smirk, or the flare in my eyes when I looked at her.
Her hair was a wet mess—she must have just taken a shower—and it sent my mind back to her tight wet hole stretching around my manhood. I had to go outside to take my call just so I wouldn’t get all boned up and distracted from business.
She then retreated upstairs to her room, and I haven’t seen her since.
I thumb the buzzer on the wall to call her. She doesn’t answer, so I buzz again. Eventually, I hear her soft voice through the speaker.
“Yes?”
“Our folks are on their way home.”
“I know.”
“You know?” I frown. “Well, why aren’t you down here cleaning?”
She can’t see my smile, but she must be able to hear it in my voice. There’s a pause, followed by what might be a sigh.
“I’ll be right down.”
She clicks off, a surprising move from her. Normally she’s so timid, but there was something in her tone that was bordering on confrontational.
Maybe she’s provoking me again?
This was inevitable once I brought her to the closet the first time. I knew from the moment I saw her that she was hiding her true nature, and I was just the man to bring it out.
Theonlyman.
When she appears at the top of the stairs, my head starts spinning. Jaw clenched, I realizethisis what I want to see every day. This vision of beauty in my life, never out of my reach.
Her hips steal my gaze me as she descends. She reaches up to toss her hair, and her shirt rides up, showing a hint of skin just below her belly button.
I close the distance between us and slip my hand up her shirt. Her breast is soft and warm, the definition of temptation.
She gasps slightly, and I move in to kiss her. But just as our lips are about to meet, she twists away.
“Whoa, where are you going?” I ask, snatching her back as she tries to pass me.
“I have to…clean,” she mutters, her eyes on the floor.
I frown at her response. This isn’t the Joan I’ve come to know.
This is the Joan who stepped into this house that night, cold and wet, trembling in my presence, afraid.
I’m so stunned that I can only watch as she walks away and starts gathering her cleaning supplies.
An uneasy feeling causes me to swallow hard. What is this change in her? Does she regret what we did last night? That can’t be it. I can still hear her sweet moans and voice in my ear.
She even called me Daddy…
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, following her into the living room as she starts dusting.
She doesn’t respond right away, and with her back to me, I can see her go tense at the sound of my voice. Something is not right.
“Nothing,” she finally says. But I’m not buying it. I step closer, a sense of foreboding in my stomach. I’m just about to reach out and turn her around to face me when the front door opens.
