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“Sounds about right.”
“I really hate you.” She continues to walk toward the bathroom.
“Princess, I don’t care what you think of me.”
She halts and looks over her shoulder at me. “That name isn’t very fitting.”
“And what shall I call you then?”
“Cinderella.”
“Yeah. I think not. No mice. No stepmother. And the most important part? There is no prince in this story.”
“There certainly isn’t.”
Now that her body is facing me again, she boldly meets my stare. “Is there anything I need to know?”
“Be dressed and ready by five.”
“You said after dinner.”
“Yes, but just be ready. I’m not sure where we will be eating.”
“You want me to have dinner with you?” She sounds repulsed by the idea.
“When you put it like that, no.”
“Great. I’m not sure how I would swallow in front of you.”
I quirk up my brow. Does she hear what she says? “Just be ready by five. Better?” I chide.
“Much.”
She slips her shirt over her shoulders, letting it drop on the bathroom tiles. She’s doing this on purpose. It’s obvious. She wants to rile me.
I won’t let her.
But fuck, her tits are bare to me, nipples on alert, pointing right at me. I haven’t eaten all day, and I’m damn near ravenous for her. My dick is on its path to hard, and I just relieved it half an hour ago.
Fuck, this woman is dangerous.
“Anything I should wear?” she asks, fingers drifting down to her skirt.
“Clothes.”
“Welp, since you specified . . .”
I shrug. “You asked.”
“Fine. Clothes. Nice clothes?”
The skirt comes off, pooling around her feet. She’s wearing a thong, just like I imagined. Just like I jerked myself off to. I could be in front of her in three strides, pushing the slip of fabric aside and sinking into her.
I’m so fucking hard at the thought, and I know it’s obvious. But she doesn’t look. Her eyes are level on mine as she waits for my answer.
I give it to her.
“As opposed to rags?”
