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“I’m going to give you lower ball pain!” She lashed out with her other foot, managing to hit her target before her upper body crashed to the floor.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frank
Frank groaned and clutched at his aching balls, but held tight to her ankle with his other hand. “You really are insane.”
Despite the agony that radiated through his crotch, he had to give the woman credit. Not only had she surprised him, she had taken a major fall to deliver that kick. And she was still flailing about, kicking like mad.
“Stop it,” he grunted. “I’m not your stalker. I work for the queen and I’m here to help you.”
“The queen?” she asked, paling visibly as she stilled.
“Yes.”
“She’s the one who’s been sending the letters?”
“Of course not.” Frank released her ankle, but not without a hint of reluctance. He liked touching this woman, liked it far too much.
“Right,” she muttered. “Why would she go to the trouble of stalking me when she could just have me killed while I sleep?”
“How’s your arm?” He reached toward her, ignoring her last comment. Whatever quarrel she had with the queen, he was staying out of it. No good ever came from meddling in women’s arguments.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, shying away. “I don’t need your help, if that’s really why you’re here. I don’t need her help either, and you can tell her that.”
“The queen is concerned for your safety. The man who has been threatening you will be coming here tonight. You would be wise to accept her help.”
“Why does everything you say make me feel like a kid who doesn’t know what’s best for me?” she asked,
her face telegraphing loud and clear that the more burning question was—why did she like it so much?
“I’m not trying to make you feel like a child, I’m trying to convince you to see sense and let me help you. We both know you’re not a child, Eleanor.” He met her eyes and a shiver of recognition passed between them, thickening his cock and making her nipples visible through the leather she wore.
Damn, he wanted to tug on that thing until her full breasts spilled from the top, wanted to cup her in his hands and tease her already tightened tips with his tongue. He wanted to make her beg him to fuck her, and then he wanted to lick her, suck her, bite her until she begged for more.
Every cell in his body was cursing his lack of theatrical skills. If he’d been a better actor, maybe his earlier attempt at seduction would have worked and they would be in bed right now, waiting for the sicko to show up.
He could stake out the room as well from the bed as anywhere else, and he was the type of man who would do anything to get the job done. He’d crawled through uninhabitable wastelands and fought enemy armies when there seemed to be no chance at victory. If he had to take one for the crown by taking this woman to his bed…well, it was a sacrifice he would be willing to make. He could use a little pleasure right about now.
Eleanor looked like she could use a little pleasure, too. No matter that she had brought her misfortune on herself, he still hated to see the despair in her eyes. He wanted to wipe it away and replace it with lust, nothing but pure, desperate, healthy lust.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, her breath coming faster.
“I can’t help it. You’re a beautiful woman.”
“I’m the woman who tormented your queen.”
“Everyone makes mistakes. But I don’t really care one way or the other. I’d just like to make you come.”
“Wh-what?”
He might have laughed at how wide her eyes grew, if she hadn’t simultaneously dropped an unconscious hand down to hover over her mound. She was hot, all right, hot and primed for him. He would bet his annual pension that if he slid his hand down the front of her shorts her pussy would be wet.
“I said I’d like to make you come,” he repeated, holding her gaze until the tension lingering in the air between them was palpable.
“I didn’t do those things she said I did,” she said. “I don’t expect you to believe me. No one believes me, but it’s the truth. That’s how I ended up working here.”
“You made a choice to do this work.” Not the conversation he had assumed they would be having, but he wasn’t the type to support playing the victim. “No one put a gun to your head.”
