“I’ll keep that for my midnight snack,” she mumbled, setting aside the nail polish to fork a piece of cake into her mouth.
Smiling, I immediately stiffened when my cock hardened, reacting to her tongue curling around the tines of the fork as she licked at the cream. “Can I sit?” I asked, linking my hands in front of my crotch to hide the evidence of my unexplained lust for this girl.
A feat that was wrong in so many ways. Student. Underage. Friend’s daughter. A triple taboo that an intelligent man would avoid—good thing I was considered a monster, daring to indulge in anything forbidden. I rolled my lips to keep from chuckling and having to explain the reason for it.
She looked up at me, her pink lips a glistening ring around the fork, surging forth images of it around my cock. I shifted my gaze. Her big blue eyes sparkled with confusion as she slid the silver utensil out of her mouth. “Why? You’re dad’s friend, not mine,” her tone begrudging.
I’ve tried hard to stay away, little girl, only because it would be wrong for me to fuck you, I almost muttered out loud yet didn’t blame her for the callous response. My behaviour with her wasn’t typical friend material. Then again, nothing about this nameless thing between us was typical. I’d never been this fascinated by someone before. “Would you rather I left?” I asked, leaving the ball in her court. When she didn’t answer after a couple of seconds, I turned to walk away.
“I’m very picky about the friends I keep, Mr Sinclair.”
Grinning, I turned to look at her. “Why is that, Miss Singh?” I sat down next to her, lifted her leg onto my lap and reached for the nail polish. When I opened the bottle, I raised a brow at her and as she began talking, I painted her nails, taking care not to mess.
“Some people are more superficial than others, some just use you for their own selfish reasons and others, well, sooner or later they show their true colours. So, to prevent all that shit, I keep to myself with minimal people that like me for me.” She shrugged, glancing out the window.
“I like you for you,” the words were out before I could stop them.
Her brow shot up, her smile mischievous. “But you don’t even know me.”
Oh, I know you, little girl, just not the way you think.“We can rectify that.” I reached for her other leg, and she let me. We sat in silence while I painted her delicate toes—the scented air serene between us. Done, I waited for her to inspect her toes. She had dainty feet and the colour suited her skin tone. “Beautiful,” I said.
She looked up and smiled. “Thank you for painting them.”
“So, do I pass the friendship test then?”
“Okay, but only if you can beat me at a game of chess.” She smiled, getting to her feet. “If I beat you, we become friends. If you beat me then you need to hit the road and hang out with the old geezers in the school.” She snorted a laugh.
Grinning, I rolled up my sleeves. “Chess, interesting choice. Game on, then?”
“Game on, Mr Sinclair.” She walked over to her closet.
“If we’re going to be friends, you can call me Sebastian if you want.”Although I’d prefer sir,I noticed how she never called me sir at school, and I wondered if her experience with me at the ritual impacted her decision.
“The imperative being if.” She returned with a chess set carved out of wood and what looked like ivory.
I chuckled at her brevity. “Beautiful set.”
She took her seat again, opposite me. “Yeah, it’s from Africa, my aunt brought it back for me,” she replied setting up the board. With her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she worked, she appeared so innocent, so vulnerable and I found myself looking forward to getting to know her.
