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Everywhere.
Calling her by her name had been like bringing a lit match to a fuse. She’d reacted, running out of the room like she knew she had seconds to get out of the blast radius.
I’d shoved Lyra off my lap with a violent push, stepping over her legs on my way out.
Like an animal on the hunt, I’d tracked my prey. Finding her on her knees as I loomed over her had sent a sadistic bolt of pleasure coursing through my body, thickening my already semi hard dick.
I’d grabbed her throat and spanked her ass, my hits getting substantially more vicious when she’d uttered Jeremy’s name.
The thought of him seeing her like this, or even of him simply talking to her had made me want to gouge his eyes out and feed him his own tongue.
I saved that idea for later.
I screwed my eyes shut, my head tilted back against the couch as I thought back to the noises she’d made. The cries, the mewling, the fucking moaning.
I’d spanked her because the beast in me had hungered for it. Craved it with a visceral need.
I hadn’t expected her to enjoy it.
To arch into my every stroke.
Fuck.
I bring my hand up to rub my face, trying to erase the memories in the same movement.
Rhys saunters into the living room, Phoenix right behind him.
“I saw Lyra slithering out of the upstairs living room yesterday.” Rhys says, dislike clear in his voice. “Did you fuck her again?”
“No.”
“Thank fuck.”
I slide a glance his way. “Not a fan?”
“Fuck no. She’s always watching, hoping you’ll make it official with her one day. She’s a leech desperate for a bit of power, it’s pathetic.” He says, disgustedly.
He’s not wrong. She’s been getting a little too comfortable with me lately. What started out as a convenient arrangement is now turning into more of a nuisance than I have time for.
I have no interest in her or anyone else when it comes to anything longer term than a few fucks. I’ve never given her any mixed signals that this is more than what it is.
Casual.
Uncomplicated.
Not exclusive.
Phoenix lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag, exhaling the smoke out in progressively smaller rings. For a moment, we watch the smoke quietly, the way it billows and expands before dissipating into nothingness.
“When’s Robert due back?”
My back stiffens. He’d mentioned he’d be in town more often to oversee the scholarship, but my father was hardly the type of parent who warned before he showed up.
I'm sure the next time he returns will be no different than all the last – I’ll come home one day and find the door to his study open, the sounds of his conversation trickling out into the hall.
He’ll find some pretense to call me into his office.
Focus on some imagined mistake I made that would bring shame to the family.
