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That only makes her flush harder, paints her redder, a new kind of self-torture I never knew.
Call me crude.
I never hide what I want, especially when it’s right in front of me, beckoning.
I half expect her to turn around and flee, and honestly, I wouldn’t blame her one bit.
Delia’s a smart girl. That’s probably the wisest decision she could make right now.
“Will you just come outside?” she says finally, her eyes darting away.
She starts moving before I can answer.
I follow her like a hungry dog, watching the round globes of her ass bobbing in that skintight dress.
We stop off in the kitchen.
Her ass taunts me even more as she bends over, opening the thick glass door to daddy’s refrigerated liquor cabinet. She pulls out a bottle of something white and expensive.
My brain revolts.
Why do I see myself popping the cork and spraying it all over her?
Licking expensive Dom or whatever it is off her tits, tasting it on her pussy, cooling her sweat-slick skin with champagne before I burn her to cinders.
“Can you grab a couple glasses?” She smiles like an angel, gesturing to the crystal glasses hanging on a rack.
I grab two and follow her down the long deck stairs to the pool area below, overlooking a perfect view of the churning Pacific in the distance.
Yeah, a man could get used to fucking hard and often here.
And sooner or later, I know I’ll try if I’m able to drag her into that pool.
We flop down next to each other in these huge cabana chairs. Her cleavage torments me for the hundredth time after I get the cork off for her, watching as she fills our glasses.
That sparkling fizz sounds too wet for my one-track mind.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask. “Since you broke out the bubbly, I hope you’ve got something to celebrate.”
“More like an apology. I’m sorry last night was so awful,” she says. “I didn’t know Evie and Dad would tag team you. I don’t blame you for handling it like you did. I’d have stormed out too with that treatment.”
“Princess, stop,” I growl, taking a long pull from my glass. It’s sweet and warming. “Before you say too much, I don’t need family therapy. Somehow, I’ve got a feeling that’s not why you wanted to see me, either. Just spill it. Tell me why you called me back.”
She stares into her glass, giving it a little swirl in her hand.
“The night on the beach... I can’t stop thinking about what a disaster it was. We were so close to something so...” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Something unforgivable.”
Unforgivable?
Fuck that,I want to scream.The only thing that’s truly unforgivable is pretending we can’t.
“Whatever. You gonna tell me something I don’t already know?” I throw back my drink, gulping the rest of my glass and reaching for a refill.
She watches me with wide, shining eyes.
Maybe this chick is crazy after all, or just too stuck up to admit she wants a working boy in her bed.
I’ve fucked shy rich girls before.
