“Rude!” She presses her left arm across her breasts, her fingers curling inward.
“Need a hand?” I take a step closer, and another, Amelia matching each for another backward.
“Not even.” She brandishes the spatula my way again.
“That’s an interesting choice of weapon,” I say, ignoring her warning.
“I mean it—don’t come any closer!”
“I mean it too, my gorgeous little brat.” Exhilaration floods my chest as I dash froward and make a grab for her. Squealing, she pivots and runs in the direction of the dining table. Chasing Mimi would be a pleasurable experience any day of the week, but a naked Mimi? It’s fucking awesome.
“Stay away!” From the other side of the table, she laughingly wields her spatula. “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe you’re chasing me!”
“I can’t believe you’d defy me in such a brazen manner.” I glance at the wall of windows. “Not to mention giving the good people of Kensington such a show.”
Her gaze follows mine. “But this is privacy glass, right? No one can see in—we’re high up!
“Hussy,” I say with a frown I won’t hold. “Can’t hold weapons and hide everything.” My gaze dips pointedly. “Not that I’m complaining. Come over here and let me see that pussy better.”
“Hey!” She presses the spatula over the area in question. “No fair—you have a towel.”
“Because you dropped yours like a checkered flag.”
“It’s only fair you drop yours, too,” she demands laughingly.
“I’m all for equality, but do you know how hard it is to run with a hard-on?”
“Why don’t you show me.” She tilts her head provocatively, her lips a tempting little moue.
“I’ll show you my hard-on any time.” I put a little swagger into my step as I make my way to the end of the table, refusing to give in to the anticipatory thrill rolling through me. “But not when you’re armed.”
“I would never!” She enunciates her denial like the most puritanical teacher in the school.
“It’s a pity you don’t like the rest of me as much as you like my cock.” My tone is taunting and silky as I slip my thumb into the towel at my waist as though to loosen it.
“I like you more than I should,” she answers, her avid eyes not sure what to watch first.
She feints left, and I follow, our stalemate a game of who dares wins as I lunge around the table after her. She shrieks and whirls away, but in a few steps, I’ve caught her elbow.
“Gotcha,” I rasp, pulling her against me, wrapping my arm around her waist. Her excited squeal vibrates through me as I lift her feet from the floor as she kicks and flails ineffectually, her bones turning to jelly at the shock of being caught.
Shock and excitement, I’m sure.
“What are you going to do?” Her words are panting and breathless.
“Do?” I shake my head like a wet dog, shaking off the droplets of water dripping from my hair to my face, making her laugh. I use the opportunity to wrestle the spatula from her hand.
“What are you going to do withit?” Is she excited or worried? Probably a bit of both.
“That’s two questions,” I murmur, pressing my mouth to her ear. Her breath hitches as I press my teeth to the shell. “Which do you want the answer to?”
“Both, of course.”
“So greedy.” I can feel her heart beating as I carry her over to the sofa. The fight having drained from her body, she’s compliant as I bend her over the back of it.
“You won’t—”
Her words halt as I slide the copper edge up the back of her thigh. “Won’t what, Blondie? What do you think I’m not capable of?”
