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“Hillary. Again. It’s her sixth text message reminder of the day. I bet all those missed calls are from her,” she lets out a frustrated sigh. “I have no intention of talking to her.” Jules drops her phone into her bag and places it on the console table near the door.
“Jesus, is she going to keep pestering you until you cough up the money?”
“Seems like it,” she deadpans. The woman is worse than a school of piranhas. “Since nothing is official yet between the four of us, I can’t assure her she’ll get her for money on time––”
“Make her squirm,” I interrupt. “Wait until the last possible minute to give her a clue you’ll come up with the money.”
She shoots me a devilish smile. “Oh… that’s devious.”
“Tit for tat, baby,” I say. “Hillary pulled the rug from under your feet, leaving you stranded. And that’s after burning through your father’s insurance money. It’s not like you have a garden of Benjamins growing in your backyard. She knows that. The evil bitch wanted to make you suffer.”
Jules nods in agreement. “I really don’t know why she hates me so much.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“You’re right.”
“The only thing that matters, is booting her out of your life,” I remind her. “You want to keep quiet about everything that will transpire over the next weeks. If Hillary catches wind you secured three investors and there’s hope for your father’s business, you’ll never get rid of her. She’ll continue to be the leech that sucks everything out of you.”
She considers my warning.
“Mum’s the word.” She runs a zipper across her pretty lips.
“Exactly,” I nod. “Now, let’s not waste another second talking about that witch.”
“Agreed. Do you want the tour?” she asks.
That’s not exactly what I had in mind.
I scan the small house. The brand new furniture Hillary bought lacks flair. The same for the reproduction paintings adorning the walls. I doubt that’s a real van Gogh.
“Maybe after,” I grab her by the waist, pulling her to me until we’re chest to chest, her wide hazel green eyes staring up into mine. “I’m a breath away from a severe case of blue balls, sweetness,” I murmur. “The house tour can wait.”
Her hand lands on my chest, balling my t-shirt into her small fist. “And you want me to take care of your little problem?”
“Watch your smart mouth, little girl,” I warn. “We both know there’s nothing small about my cock, and yes, I expect my girlfriend to take care of my very big dick.”
“You’re so demanding,” she rolls her eyes dramatically.
“You’re singing a different tune than you were earlier,” I remind her. “I much prefer when you’re more agreeable… with my cock between your lips.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, my mouth slams against hers, swallowing her smart repartee. My tongue parts her lips, delving deep and claiming her with urgency. She clings to me as if she’s unable to stand on her own and she might crumble to her knees any second. The more I deepen the kiss, the more she sinks into me, returning my passion with as much fury.
Fuck, yeah.
I pull away, place my hands on her shoulders and turn her around so she’s facing the living room.
“I want you naked and bent over the back of the couch,” I order.
Her head whips around, astonishment written all over her beautiful face.
“I––I have a bedroom,” she stammers.
“I’m not particularly interested in your bedroom.”
“But––”
“It’s unlikely your stepmother and stepsisters will show up.”
