“How’s the leg, Jake?” I taunt.
“Dom,” Nick warns under his breath.
I ignore him.
Part of me hopes the asshole gives me another reason to take him outside. Maybe I’ll break the other one. Put him in a chair.
“I should have told the sheriff what you done,” the shriveled husk of monkey testicles gripes.
I arch a brow. “Want me to get the phone?”
“Dominic,” Nick snaps. “Enough.”
Jacob smirks. “Best listen to him, boy.”
It’s Isla pushing back her chair and gathering up her plate that stills the not so dinner appropriate words hot on my tongue. She doesn’t say a word when leaving the room just as Macie returns with a tumbler of whiskey. She sets it in front of Jacob and says something I’m not listening to as I watch Isla disappear around the corner.
I don’t follow right away.
I sit and listen to the chatter. To the mindless drivel. Jacob is milking his injury for all it’s worth. Macie is eating it up, practically offering to service him right at the table. Walter makes no comment to anyone about anything while finishing his food with the satisfied peace of a man who is content to simply exist.
Nick mutters something about needing the bathroom and pushes away from the table.
My idiot brain gets excited by the prospect of him finding Isla, bending her over the sink and fucking her pussy, but he actually heads towards the bathroom and my excitement sinks.
It’s exhausting being the only person with sense.
I rise and gather my dishes. Halfway down the hall, I hear the water running and the clink and clatter of dishes.
Isla stands at the sink. Back to the door. Her dark hair is woven down her back, a thick braid against the soft purple of her sweater. Barefoot and in jeans, she appears so small. So helpless. Like the babysitter in every porn right before she’s being used to take the father’s cum in her cunt.
I need to chill.
I need to calm the fuck down.
But fuck!
With the grace of a cat, I slink up behind her, capture her hips. Her weak little gasp sings through me as I press my face into the column of her throat. My palms find her hips, holding her in place. Not that it’s needed.
Her body instinctively leans into mine.
Her willing compliance pools down to where I need her and I pull her tighter against me.
“Did we hurt you earlier?” I ask, nuzzling the hammering little pulse beneath her satin flesh.
The scent of us is still on her, still a warm tangle of me and Nick with her, and there’s never been a greater smell. A smell that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Isla shakes her head.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I follow the hem of her top to the waistband of her jeans. My fingertips brush the warm skin where the two part. I skim to the buttons on her jeans. Listen to her soft little inhale of my name.
“Yes or no, baby?” I trace her jawline with my lips. “Do you want me to touch your sweet, little pussy?”
She’s trembling, but she gives a helpless little, “Yes, please.”
I groan into her ear. “Such a good girl. Having you spread open is all I can think about. Seeing your tight hole stretched around my boyfriend’s fat dick and you taking every inch like the perfect little whore you are…”
