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She yawns. “What time is it?”
I check my watch. “Almost six.”
She stretches like a lazy cat. “I suppose.”
My arms tighten around her involuntarily. She’s cute, this little flower of mine. Balancing her in my arms, I stand to adjust my erection. I haven’t forgotten about punishing her mouth. I’ve just moved it back to prioritize her needs. I unlock the door and carry her to my room. The hallway is lit, courtesy of Francine.
In the room, I switch on the light and turn up the heat before ordering Zoe to the bathroom.
She obeys wordlessly. The water in the shower comes on. I walk closer and put my ear to the door, listening to the sounds of cascading water, imagining her under the spray and wishing I could be there with her. Not yet. She’s not ready for that.
A knock sounds on the door. I go over and open it. Fran stands on the step.
Her eyes dart toward the bathroom. “You’ve been away for less than a week.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that,” she points at the bathroom door, “was fast.”
I swallow down my irritation. Fran is a loyal employee. “My private life isn’t your concern.”
“No?” She tilts her head. “It used to be.”
“It’s over, Fran. We’ve been through this.”
Her eyes cloud over. “A couple of rolls between the sheets are enough to make you grow tired of a woman?”
Sadly, yes.
She motions with her head toward the bathroom. “How long do you think she’ll last?”
“None of your business.”
“She asked me to mail a letter.”
“She told me.”
“Why are the phones locked away, Max? Why isn’t she allowed to leave the house?”
I clench my jaw. “As I said—”
“Not my business.”
“Exactly.”
She takes a step forward, putting our bodies flush. “I’m loyal to you.” She snakes her arms around my neck. “You know that.”
I grip her arms to pull them away. “But?”
“But I can’t deal with having another woman flaunted—”
The bathroom door opens. We both turn our heads that way.
Zoe freezes on the threshold in a billow of steam. Clutching a towel to her chest, she looks between Fran and me. I don’t like what I see in her expressive eyes. I don’t like that wounded look or the sag of betrayal that sets in her shoulders.
I untangle Fran’s arms and put her a step away from me.
Giving Zoe a cold look, Fran says, “Dinner is ready. I’ll leave it in the warmer drawer before I go.”
My voice is measured. “You do that.”
With a last glance at me, Fran leaves.
“More than just your cook, I see.” Zoe’s chin is lifted but her eyes brim with emotions that spoil our earlier moment.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Then you don’t deny it. You fucked her.”
I’m not going to lie. Not about that. “Yes.”
“Thanks for that.” She walks past me to the suitcase that lies unpacked on the bed. “I needed the reminder.”
I catch her wrist. “You’re not going to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Look for excuses to shut me out.”
“They’re not excuses. They’re facts, and why would I shut you out if you’ve never been inside to start with?”
I drop my voice an octave. “Careful, little flower. You don’t know me. If you did, you wouldn’t push me.”
She yanks her arm free. “I know you better than you think.”
It’s a laughable generalization, a terrible misjudgment. Putting my hand on her shoulder, I push her down to her knees.
She fights it, straining back, and then fights the towel that threatens to fall open.
Unzipping my fly, I stare down at her shocked face. “I said we were going to punish that mouth. You owe me twice already.” I pull out my cock, heavy and hard, thick with need. My balls ache with unspilled release.
She knows where I’m going with this when I stroke myself three times and aim for her lips. She clamps them shut. I grab her jaw and squeeze the pressure points next to her ears. It opens her mouth wide, wide enough to slide my cock through those plump lips. She gags and tries to pull back, but I grab the back of her head.
“You’re going to take me,” I hiss, “and swallow everything.”
She grabs my thighs when I push her face forward, making her swallow my cock. Not caring so much about the towel now, it falls to the carpet, leaving her naked on her knees. Stunning. Struggling for air. I let her. She needs to learn this little lesson. Her very breaths belong to me. I can be kind or what she makes me out to be, either a cultured gentleman or the monster of her nightmares.
I count carefully, controlled. I’m in charge even as her saliva coats my dick and her tongue is warm on the underside, making me want to explode. I twist her locks around a fist and pull out when I get to ten. She gulps in air. Her big, blue eyes are watering, spit running down her chin. I’m being easy on her. She should be able to hold her breath to thirty without effort. I give her time for one more drag of air before I drive back. Then I move. I pump with two short thrusts and a long one, my cock hitting the back of her throat at every third count. I fuck her face on the beat of a waltz. It’s a dance designed to limit her gag reflex and prevent her from vomiting.
