I'd give anything—anything—to make her moan like that with my tongue between her thighs.
I’m a fucking degenerate.
I force myself to think about something else. Anything else. Like how she eavesdropped and hid behind a potted tree.
The image makes me smile.
There's defiance in her. A spark her father didn't manage to beat out of her completely. Good. I like that. I like it a lot.
That bastard controlled her so thoroughly she couldn't even choose her own breakfast food, but she’s still got some grit.
She finishes the last bite and sets down her fork, a shy smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you. That was…so delicious.”
"You're welcome."
Her gaze drops to her empty plate, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her nightgown.
"What other foods do you like?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.
She thinks for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration like I've asked her to solve a complex equation.
Then her face lights up. Actually lights up. Eyes bright, mouth curving into a big smile.
"Twinkies.”
"Twinkies." I laugh. Actually laugh, the sound surprising even me.
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"Nothing. Just...Twinkies." I shake my head, still grinning like an idiot.
"Yes." She's practically glowing now. "They’re these little yellow cakes with the cream inside."
“I know what Twinkies are.”
"I haven't had one in years."
Years.
Because her piece-of-shit father decided they weren’t on the approved food list.
Fuck him.
"I don't have any here, but I'll get some."
I’ll have an entire tractor-trailer filled with Twinkies pull up to the house if she wants.
"You don't have to?—"
“I’ll get some.” My tone brooks no argument. “In fact…let’s go grocery shopping. You can pick out whatever you want. No restrictions.”
She hesitates, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Really?"
"Really."
A knock at the front door interrupts us.
Perfect timing.
