He shrugs and stands from the table with my empty glass, as though he’s nervous. “You wanted to know.”
“Where did you get a photo of me?” I turn back toward him, watching his massive frame move about the kitchen, his weight straining the old floors.
“I took a photo the very first night you were here, but it was an accident. It was meant for a piece the Gazette was doing on the distillery, but you were front and center in your little black skirt and that tank top that’s way too damn tight.” He glances down at my tits then up again. “I know I can’t have you, but I like pretending.”
Oh damn.
My clit throbs and my chest tightens as he looks me over.
“Is that what you’re doing inviting me here? Pretending I’m yours?”
He pauses for a long moment, his gaze drinking me in. “Playing pretend is fun. Do you want to play too?”
My God! What’s happening?
My entire body buzzes to life. “Yeah, I’d like to play.”
He rolls his thick neck to the side as though he’s resumed battling the parts of himself that aren’t supposed to want me. “Then you’ll do as I say?”
I nod slowly. “While I’m in this house, I’ll do as you say.”
“Good girl.” He clears his throat and leans in behind me, his warm breath on the lobe of my ear as he says, “Then finish those pancakes and get to bed.”
Chapter Six
Archer
Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking mess.
I lay back in bed and scrub my hand down over my face, desperate to uncover some sense.
Any sense.
There must be some left in there somewhere.
You wouldn’t know it by the way I just told a twenty-two-year-old woman that I’d been beating off to her photo every night for weeks, but still, I swear there’s sense some place.
To my credit, I left out the part where I wanted to murder her ex, the man who’s been emotionally abusing her. That counts for something, right?
It shows how civilized I am. It has to.
I draw in a deep breath and stare up at the fan whirring above me. There’s a low hum as the blades spin round and round. And though I know I should force myself to sleep, I tuck my hand into my boxers anyhow, jerking slowly to the picture in my head of my sweet, little brat getting out of the shower earlier.
Maybe I did step in hoping to see her naked. I don’t know. I didn’t think it was a conscious thought, but right now, I’m pretty thankful for the picture in my mind of her perfect round tits dripping with water.
Jesus.
I grit my teeth and murmur low as I stroke my cock, conjuring more memories of her soft, curved frame standing so confidently in the shower, soaking wet. That little, pink pussy. Her full, red lips. Those deep brown eyes.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I stroke faster and harder, imagining I took her right then. Imagining that I’d helped her from the shower, bent her over the sink, and slid into her slippery, tight, little, virgin pussy.
She’s so small compared to me. So easily twisted and lifted. So easily bent and spanked.
My God!
The thought of my hand cracking against her bratty, little ass sends another shock of thrill straight through me. That little whimpering moan she makes as I spank her over and over.
