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“You don’t know that for sure.”
The sight is a ridiculous one: her black dress pushed up and a peek of the soft-blue lace of her panties underneath as her legs dangle before me.
She loses a shoe. Those sexy as fuck red shoes that make her legs look endless.
“Oh, that’s gonna suck when you need to run,” I call out.
She wiggles a bit, twisting and turning, and then her body slumps against the window. “I’m stuck,” she says with defeat.
“Shocker, didn’t see that one coming.” I move closer and reach out to touch her leg. It’s silky smooth. “What were you thinking? Do you know how far out in the woods we are?”
“I don’t care. I need to get away. I’m not going back. I’d rather take my chances with the coyotes than be forced into that marriage.”
“Ah, you underestimate me.”
“Just help me down.”
“You know, on second thought, I might just leave you here. Let Hank and Stella deal with you.”
“You wouldn’t dare leave me here, Xavier.”
“Are you going to be a good little girl and promise not to run away?” My mind fills with images of her being a good girl just for me. I run my hands up her toned legs and grip her waist.
“Scouts honor,” she says.
“You were never a girl scout, sweetheart.” I yank on her waist just enough to free her as she shimmies back through the pane of the window. She slides like water down my body, and her delicious ass runs over my cock. It pulses, wanting to sink between her cheeks, and I try to steady my hands on her hips.
This is not the time to have my dick go rogue and pop up for any ass that comes within a two-foot radius of it. This isn’t high school, and I should be able to control the big fella. But, no, my body wants no part of what my mind’s got to say. And I have a semi as she turns in my arms and wets her lips.
“We should get back out there,” I breathe out, huskier than I mean it to sound.
She arranges her dress back into place and smoothes her wild mane of auburn hair. “Ok.”
I grab her elbow on the way out. “Promise me you won’t try anything like that again.”
“Promise me you’ll let me go,” she counters.
“Ah, I see you still haven’t mastered those bargaining skills.”
“You don't really know what I've mastered,” she says as we step out of the bathroom to rejoin the party.
She walks in front of me, and I take a second to appreciate the view of her fine ass in motion as it walks away from me.
After dessert, I grab Rhiannon’s hand. “Sorry, we have to get going.” She steps closer to me, as if she's afraid he's going to snatch her away from me. “Rhiannon, you remember Ken Gordon, right?” Her eyes dart to me, silently asking how to answer. “He works for your father.”
Recognition dawns on Mr. Gordon’s face, and he shakes his head. “No, I don’t work for DeLaurio.”
I step closer. “Of course, you do. Hiding murders, turning the other cheek to hidden deals.” His pathetic excuses, that he’s on the up and up and not in cohorts with a known mafia boss, are useless.
“Let him know his daughter had a great time,” I brush past him, “and Xavier sends his regards.”
After dinner tonight,I need a stiff drink. I head into my study, pour a glass of scotch and grab a cue stick. I move over to the billiard table and rack a few balls for a few shots. What was Rhiannon thinking tonight?
It’ll be nice to be back in LA tomorrow, in my city.
Rhiannon walks past the cracked door. I hit a ball into the pocket. She walks past again.
“What are you doing, Rhiannon?”
