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“Dan!” The same person I’ve been having serial killer thoughts about calls for me, a grin showing his missing teeth.
Nicole’s attention finally slides to me and she pales, then flushes like a virgin. Correction, she didn’t flush when she was a virgin.
She was an angel with a devil’s appearance. Now, she just looks like a broken angel. A devil on his second try of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” the Guns N’ Roses version.
Her movements are flustered as she turns down the music from the speaker. “Sorry, I…thought you weren’t returning until later in the evening.”
That was the plan until I came to a perturbing realization that the outside world doesn’t have what I want.
My boring—ex-boring—flat does.
I don’t offer that explanation, though. Instead, I toss Jayden the Minions jacket that he oohs and aahs over and even hugs me.
The blasphemy.
I pat his back anyway, because spawn or not, children kind of need all that affection shit. He might be smart, but he’s as lonely as his sister.
They’ve been each other’s world for so long that it feels intrusive to even be in the middle of them.
But they let me in anyway, Minions, Lolli, and all.
“I’m going to take a picture of it with my other collection,” he announces, then runs to his room as if his arse is on fire.
His room.
The little rascal has a room in my flat. It’s actually a guest room that no guest has used before him.
Nicole has the second guest room that she doesn’t sleep in, because the fucking happens in my bedroom.
“You should stop getting him stuff,” she tells me when I’m in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water.
I lean against the counter and face her. “Is that your way of saying, ‘thank you for taking care of me and my brother. Let me suck your dick to show how grateful I am’?”
Her cheeks turn a deep shade of red, but to her credit, the haughty expression doesn’t disappear. I guess having aristocratic blood in your veins never changes, even if your mother turns out to be a psycho on steroids.
“You’re spoiling him.” She completely ignores my “suck my dick” suggestion. “He’ll find it hard to adjust when this whole thing is over.”
“This whole thing?” I try to pretend she didn’t metaphorically stab me with her favorite kitchen knife.
Yes, the plan—that’s currently searching for therapy—is to kick her out once the custody battle is over, but that doesn’t mean she gets to think that as well.
Nicole releases a frustrated breath. “Whatever vendetta you have against me.”
“There’s no fine print that says this will be over anytime soon. Might want to rest that busy brain from thinking about unnecessary things.”
“How long do you intend to keep this going?”
“Bored already?” I grab her by a handful of her hair, my fingers digging into her nape. “Didn’t sound like it when you were screaming the room down last night.”
Her delicate hands land on my chest as she peeks behind me. “Stop it. Jay’s awake.”
“So is my cock.”
I nudge my erection against the soft flesh of her stomach to prove a point. It’s been in this state ever since I walked in and saw her dancing and laughing like a fucking goddess.
Her thighs tremble against mine and then it happens, the slight shudder, the closing of her eyes, and the whole body stiffness.
When she opens them, she relaxes a little and stares at me like a nymph. Either she is one or I really need some therapy for being a sex addict.
