She jerks her head to the side, and I release her, pressing that hand to the other side of the wall, just like the other. I know I should step back, leave, get as far away from her as I possibly can, because the way I’m looking at her and thinking about her isn’t the way I should be towards a girl half my age.
Because I know how I would react to someone doing theexactsame thing to mydaughter—if I had one.
“Yes,” she growls gently, looking everywhere but into my eyes. Just as I’m about to speak again, she looks down for a split second and I watch as her eyes widen in shock. Next, her breath hitches in reaction to something, but she still doesn’t look away. I watch as her lips part a little, staring for a few seconds longer before quickly returning her attention back to me. “Your, uh…” She clears her throat nervously, her words coming out a little hoarse.
“My what?”
“Your towel, it’s… um… it’s not… wrapped around your waist anymore.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it, refusing to meet my stare. So I look down, noticing she is in fact correct. I’m completely naked and pressed up against her.
“Pick it up.”
Robyn’s deep blue eyes snap to mine. “Excuse me?”
The space between her brows creases and she curls the left side of her top lip. But it’s not in disgust, more so in a look of utter confusion and shock at my command. And honestly, I’m completely baffled as to why I would ask her to do something like that myself. But I can’t help the feeling of enjoyment that runs through me as she narrows her eyes in my direction. Testing me.
It’s not as though I haven’t had this same look from my fair share of women before, that look of utter disdain at saying something they wanted to hear, but at the same time it makes their feminism fly directly out the window. And the way Robyn’s glaring at me right now… is no different.
The problem for me lies in the fact that most women don’t seem to bother me the way she seems to. I mean, she’s been under my roof for less than twelve hours, and already her behaviour is starting to grate on me.
But not in the way I hate.
My feelings are closer to frustration than anything else because Iwantto punish her, but I know I can’t.
Having her in such close proximity without being able to… touch her… is what’s pissing me off, and the worst part of all this is I want to. God, do I want to.
Take last night for instance. Even as I laid spread out on the couch, I couldn’t stop thinking about her sleeping in my bed.
I listened to the shower turn off, the sound of her feet as she moved across the floorboards in my room. Christ, I even imagined her sprawled out on my mattress, thinking of all the ways I’d take her if I was there… like some fucking deviant.
“Excuse me?” She speaks, interrupting my dirty little thoughts. “I’m not bending down to pick up your towel. Who the fuck do you think I—”
“I saidbend down, Robyn, and pick it up.” I step closer, the head of my cock brushing along the soft fabric of my sweats she’s wearing. “Don’t make me repeat myself, I really hate that.”
For a brief moment I think she might slap me for ordering her to do such a thing, but she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t move at all, she simply stands there with her arms draped at her sides. Funny, she’s easier to annoy than I am, which puts her at a major disadvantage.
Her clipped breathing isn’t making the situation any better either, because with how faint it is, I’m also wondering what she sounds like in the height of pleasure. Is she louder, reckless? Does she swear? Would she cry out like a banshee if I took her roughly against the wall? How would her face contort when I hit that spot deep inside her cunt.
Images of her draped over my bed, naked before me, and—nope… Stop, Jack.
I raise my eyebrow at her, wondering if she will actually do what I told her to. “You caused this issue, so you can correct it. It’s as simple as that.”
Narrowing her eyes, she presses her lips together, looking at me with utter contempt. I continue to stare her down for what feels like forever, and suddenly, without warning at all, I see her begin to concede. She begins sliding her back down the wall, her deep blue eyes never leaving mine in case she gets an eyeful of her stepfather’s cock.
It’s funny really, the lower she drops to her knees, the warmer my body becomes. The more it starts to ache with need, silently begging for just a little touch. Because even though she is fully clothed, even though fucking her will never happen, the sight of her as she kneels before me… is an image I’ll never forget.
She looks unbelievably stunning on her knees for me, and I can feel the warmth in my lower stomach spreading throughout the expanse of my body,my desire telling me one thing… but my brain saying another. I wonder how she would react if I touched her, how she would sound if I slid two fingers inside her, working her perfectly until she came all over my hand with my name on her exhausted lips. Exploring all the areas of her until I found out what she loved, what made her break and whimper into the void.
Is she a screamer?
How does her sweat taste when she’s been fucked six ways from Sunday?
Do her toes curl when she reaches orgasm?
All questions I refuse to learn the answers to.
Why?
Because even though I hated hearing her call me ‘Daddy,’ Iamin fact her stepfather until I divorce her mother… and fucking her would be completely inappropriate.
