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I drag a hand down my face and moan. I’m in so much fucking trouble. I want to tie her to my bed and eat cunt-coated candy from her pussy, forever. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Scratch that. Whiskey or water,” I say in my firmest tone. “That’s all you can have.”
Her eyebrows dip in the center, and she looks me over. “I want both, then. And a shot of cum.”
I gape at the sharp tone of her demand, but I disguise it by scratching at my beard while I shove my jaw closed. I drink in her sassy hip, moody pout, and unimpressed eyebrow, and then give her a low whistle. “I’ll give you a shot of cum in your ass if you need it, little miss. Come get your whiskey and don’t sass me in my own home. Tell me why you just got snippy.”
Her face pulls tight. She sighs, goes back into my bedroom, and stomps out again, while pulling myNirvanaT-shirt on over her head. “You were being nice, offering me choices, and then you got grumpy and took them away,” she says once she’s glaring at me again. “How am I meant to respond?”
I look down at her feet. She’s standing pigeon-toed; her toes curled into the wooden floor, huddling together like cold little critters during a snowfall. Rainbow-colored ones. Her toenails are painted every color there is. Is that aPridestatement for her dads? And if it is, why would she hide them in her shoes? What kind of statement is that? One for herself? Or am I overthinking it, and it’s not any kind of statement at all? Maybe she just likes colors on her nails, hidden away in her shoes, while painting her fingernails black, where people can see?
My frown feels too heavy, and I grind a palm across my brow before pouring some whiskey into a second glass.
“If you must know, I caught myself acting too familiar for our agreed terms of a no-strings, one-night stand, and I was reaffirming a boundary, so nobody gets hurt.”
So I don’t get hurt,an echo mutters in my head, because I’m having some fucking feelings about this woman, which is something I’m used to hiding from myself, but it feels dangerously close to the surface tonight.
Shelby looks me over and takes one glass of whiskey from the counter. She sips at it and makes a cute face when she swallows, clearly feeling the burn. “Well, okay then.” She wets her lips and looks up at me with eyes that are far too trusting. “Shall we commence with the spanking?”
The corner of her mouth twitches, like she’s trying to keep her smirk in check, and a low, hungry rumble emanates from deep in my throat. “You like me making your ass hot and bothered, huh?” I say. “Tell me why. Are you feeling needy for discipline? Or is it the reward of the next orgasm you seek?”
She lifts one shoulder. “Maybe I don’t care if your touch comes with a positive or negative charge, as long as you’re giving me your full attention.”
Her words give me pause, and I set my whiskey back on the counter before leaning against it. “Come here, little miss.”
Shelby closes her eyes, and her lashes flutter against her cheeks. She smiles and lifts her nose as if smelling something good, and then a subtle tremor runs through her.
“I like it when you call me that,” she says, opening her eyes and stepping closer.
“I noticed.” I tug her into me and look down into her pretty eyes, while I sweep her soft, dark hair back from her face. “Has nobody been taking care of you, beautiful? Is that why you came to find me?”
She presses her lips together and squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t… Can we just…?” Her chin quivers, and she firms her jaw, making it still once more. “Will you please take care of me tonight?” she whispers eventually, melting my fucking heart.
She’s got two fucking dads but no daddy?
Well, one now,I remember her saying. Loss is her daily ritual. Her family’s probably a mess. I know mine is after we lose someone.
I kiss her forehead and scoop her into my arms. “Of course I’ll take care of you, pretty darling.”
5
JEM
We’re back on his bed, and Gunnar’s being so sweet and gentle with me.
I hate it.
I liked it before, when he bossed me around and had me do hot, naughty things that made me feel young and fun. Now I feel fragile and pathetic, like I’m too sensitive to plunder or that I require special treatment to keep from breaking. He doesn’t seem to realize I felt broken before we met, and I just want him to pound at the pieces a bit, so some will stick back together.
I set myself one task, and that was to get some dick. If I go home a technicalP in Vvirgin after having this man lick me out while he thumb-fucked my ass, I’m going to be so fucking disappointed in myself. Self-esteem is built by achieving your goals, and after having all my life plans stripped away, I need some fucking self-esteem,damn it.
Every time he whispers Shelby’s name, I want to shake my head and tell him to call meJem, but I don’t really want to be that sexless girl, tonight, either. I want some new version of me.
He peeled his T-shirt off me and has kissed about every inch of skin I have, but he’s barely scuffed me with his beard, and he’sso restrained, I can feel the tension in his body growing the more he holds back.
He flicks his tongue at my neck and tugs at my ear for a second, ramping up my hope for something more, but then he trails tiny, delicate kisses down my throat, like I’m a precious little princess. PrincessShelby.
The name whispers over my skin again with such reverence, I can’t take it. I asked him to take care of me, but I don’t want this.
