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Along the hallway I can hear Ma Silva and Lola laughing at something then the sudden scurry of feet. A second later a black Labrador puppy comes running into the lounge and heads straight for Connie, jumping up onto her lap, its front paws pressed against her shoulders as it attempts to lick her face.
“Eww, Baxter, get down. Bad boy,” she laughs.
Lola didn’t say she had a dog. Where’s it been hiding for the last ten minutes, since I arrived? The puppy waggles its tail, its whole body moving with excitement. Despite my surprise at seeing the dog, I’m more distracted by the fact that its enthusiasm has made Connie’s dress ride higher up her legs, flashing me her underwear.
She’s wearing white lacy knickers.
White. Lacy. Knickers.
My cock swells painfully.
“Down!” I snap.
The dog jumps off her lap and sits its arse down on the floor, it’s tail thumping loudly as it looks at me with its big brown eyes. But I’m not looking at the fucking dog, nor did I mean foritto get down. My gaze zeros in on her slightly parted legs, and the slash of white that taunts me between them.
“Down!” I repeat.
The dog cocks its fucking head but neither me nor Connie move.
She doesn’t move as I stare and stare and fucking stare. Her knickers seemed to be moulded to her pussy, a little dent where her lips meet. I’m not a religious man, but right now I’m praying to the Lord Almighty to save my sorry arse.
My mouth waters. My fingers itch to touch her, to trail over her skin and the red marks the dog has made on her thighs with his claws when he clambered on top of her.
Yet, I stay fixed to the spot trying with all my might not to give in to my desires.
Slowly, painfully, I drag my gaze upwards. Her nipples peak behind the thin material of her dress, the spaghetti straps a slim strip of material against her skin. Her fucking freckles are a star constellation across her chest that I want to stare at all damn night. My gaze meets hers and the breath she’s holding releases in a rush.
“I said,down.”
I’m fully aware of the tone of my voice, the rumble of vowels and consonants that spill out of my mouth like stones tumbling down a cliffside. I’m barely restraining myself from doing something really, really stupid.
Her cheeks flush a deeper pink, her mouth parting on another rapid intake of breath. Then slowly, painstakingly slowly, her fingers grasp the hem of her skirt and she slides the material lower.
I can breathe again, just.
“Dinner’s ready,” Lola calls.
The dog’s ears prick up and it scampers out of the room. Its attention on Lola now he thinks he’s the one getting fed. But despite Lola’s call, and the delicious smell of lamb and fresh mint, neither one of us make any attempt to get up.
She stares at me. I glare at her.
Tension stretches out between us.
Footsteps head down the hall, and a beat later Lola pops her head around the door.
“I said dinner’s ready,” she grins, looking between us with amusement.
“Good… I’mstarving,” Connie replies, so softly that I almost miss it.
But when she looks at me, I don’t miss the hunger in her gaze.
I don’t fucking miss that.
