Page 18 of Georgia Peach


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She’s harder to crack than I thought she’d be, though. It’s been two weeks, and she still speaks barely two words to me when I I go to see her every night.

Well, in the beginning she tried to negotiate her way out of her captivity. She promised she’d never tell about the kidnapping. She’d forget everything. When she finally realized her pleas were falling on deaf ears, she switched tactics.

The silent treatment.

She thinks it bothers me, and she’s right. I’d much rather she talk to me. I don’t just want a living doll. I want her. All of her. But what she doesn’t understand is I have way more patience than she does. Plus, I’m content to take her however I can get her. I can sit in her room all night just staring at her as she pretends to read like she doesn’t even know I’m there. What she doesn’t realize is that I can see her reading the same lines over and over again in her frustration. My presence isn’t as easy to ignore as she likes to make out.

She begrudgingly started wearing the clothes I bought her after she’d stubbornly stayed in my clothes for three days. What she fails to realize is I couldn’t give a fuck less what she wears. She’s beautiful to me regardless, and call me a primate, but it gives me a primal sense of pleasure to see her drowning in my clothes anyway, so her unwillingness to take them off at first had only fueled my desire for her.

Still, I notice she tries to find the least sexy stuff to wear, but the stylist I hired was good and every piece—even the fashionably oversized off-the-shoulder tees and leggings fit Ava perfectly and only enhance her beauty.

She hasn’t touched any of the makeup, and she leaves her hair down every day. She simply brushes it out after her shower and lets it air dry.

It doesn’t matter. She’s breathtaking au naturale and doesn’t need any makeup and fancy hairstyles. With her thick eyelashes and naturally rosy lips, she’s a man’s wet dream.

And I’m no saint, so boy do I have them—wet dreams, that is. It doesn’t matter how many times I stroke myself off, I wake up every night with an aching cock. Time and again I find myself tempted to make myself to her room and finally take her, but I won’t let myself do that.

When I take Ava, it won’t be by force. When I finally slip into her heavenly depths and make her mine in every way, it’ll be because she wants it as much as I do. I’ll make her admit it before I give us what our bodies both so desperately crave.

“Good evening, princess,” I greet her as I always do, strolling into her room after getting home from attending to some business. “How was your day?”

I might deal with business of the more unsavory sort, but it’s a full-time job—maybe even more so than legitimate business. There are always infractions to deal with and new opportunities to flesh out.

I didn’t realize how dark my existence was before Ava. Usually, I’d come home to this huge, empty estate and do even more work from my home office before having a drink and calling it a night.

Now, I look forward to coming home to her every day. She’s the light in my dark world.

Even with her glowering at me like this.

She has on an oversized burgundy top that brings out the honey streaks in her hair and deepens her brown eyes to rich mocha.

Fuck, she looks so fresh and beautiful. I know if I just lifted that shirt up, I’d find her ripe little ass so pert and full in those little black leggings.

My cock immediately rises to attention in my slacks.

This is the effect she has on me. I don’t even have to touch her. Just being in her presence is enough to put all my senses on alert and have my cock aching for her.

I don’t know if I can hold off much longer.

“Kidnap anyone new today?” She tilts her head, her hair falling over the front of her shoulder in a silky motion, her voice falsely sweet.

I grin at her, triumphant to have gotten even this sarcastic bit of communication from her. “Of course not, princess. And don’t worry. No one could ever take your place.”

Her false smile instantly sours into a scowl, and I chuckle. Of course, I want her willing and smiling up at me for real one day, but for now, I can’t deny that I enjoy sparring with her and getting a rise out of her. The way her cheeks flush in anger and indignation, the way her little fists ball in pent-up fury, the way her eyes glitter and her little jaw sets.

She’s adorable in all her fury.

I walk over to her and place a chaste kiss on her forehead. I can’t help it. I have to touch her in some small way today. Though I want to kiss so much more, I make myself stop at the press of my lips to her forehead. Any more and I won’t be able to stop myself.

It’s just as well because her little hands are instantly pressing against my chest, pushing me away.

“Don’t touch me!” she hisses like a kitten with its hackles up.

I put my hands up in surrender, but I’m smiling down at her.

No matter how angry she acts, I still feel her body’s response to me. I felt the full-body tremor that went through her when my lips touched her skin. I still see the flush in her cheeks and can practically hear her heart thumping in tune with mine.

Ava’s body is already mine. I’m just waiting for her mind.

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