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If I were a gentleman, I'd hide the hard bastard behind my hands or angle my hips away or something. But I'm not a gentleman, not when it comes to her. So I don't do any of those things. I let her stare.
Look at him, little girl. Imagine how he'll feel inside your little princess cunt. You'll know soon enough.
"Is it safe to chop wood like that?" she asks after a moment, her round cheeks pink. The breathless hue to her tone is sexy as hell. Fuck, everything about her—from her silky blonde hair to her golden skin to her sinful curves and sweet voice—is sexy to me.
I'm obsessed with this girl. Follow-her-to-school, sit-outside-her-classroom obsessed. I stalk her like it's my goddamn job. Not even her brother knows how often I follow her around town. If he did, he wouldn't let me anywhere near her.
"I wasn't chopping wood like this, baby girl," I murmur.
"You weren't?" Her gaze flies to mine, full of avid curiosity. "Then why…?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Lyric."
She swallows hard, her delicate throat working. "M-maybe I do want the answer," she whispers.
"Jesus Christ," I groan under my breath, glancing up at the sky again in the hopes God is up there, willing to grant me a Christmas miracle. I'm going to need one to keep my hands off this girl until she's wearing my ring.
If he is listening, he doesn't answer. Not that I expected him to or anything. He's probably up there laughing his ass off right now, saddling an innocent girl like her with a motherfucker like me. I don't just want to fuck her. In my mind and in my heart, she's my little princess, my baby girl. I want to spoil her, feed her from my hand. She's the center of my world. And when her little pussy aches, soon, it'll be my fingers, my tongue, and my cock getting her off.
I tip my head back down, looking at her. "Why are you even here, Lyric?"
She flinches like I hit her, something filtering through her expression too quickly for me to read. "I came to bring you this," she mutters, ducking back inside the car. The back of her little dress comes dangerously close to flashing her panties at me.
My fucking mouth waters.
I take two steps toward her, a split second from plastering her against the side of her car to get my first taste of her. She pops back out with a stack of papers in her hands, thrusting them in my direction.
"From Lachlan," she mumbles. "And he said to tell you that he'll see you on Christmas."
I barely have time to grab the paperwork before she releases it, almost as if she doesn't want to risk her skin meeting mine.
Fuck. She's pissed.
"Lyric."
"I'll see you later." She dives back into her car, but not before I see the tears shimmering in her eyes.
Fucking hell. She isn't mad. She's hurt.
I hurt her.
My heart threatens to cleave itself in two.
"Baby girl, I'm sor–"
She slams her door, cutting me off.
I mutter a curse, yanking open the car door before she can throw the car in reverse and pull off.
"Out of the car, princess," I growl. "Now."
"I need to get home. I have things to do," she lies, her little fists locked around the steering wheel. She stubbornly refuses to look in my direction, using her hair as a shield between us.
"Too bad. I have to sign these and send them back to your brother."
She huffs a loud, dramatic sigh but reluctantly kills the engine and climbs from the car again. I crowd her the whole time, not letting her put space between us.
"Your little attitude is pissing me off, baby girl," I growl in her ear.
