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It’s not how she usually dresses, in her loud and funky clothing. I see she’s added to the ink that skates up her arm. I bet that made her daddy real mad considering his image consists of being squeaky clean.
She has no idea I am here. I stay back, watching her from afar. And I’d like to keep it that way for just a little longer at least.
“Sir.” One of my men is trying to get my attention. I wave him off, and he steps back without another word. I can’t be distracted right now. My attention is all on my little Bunny right now.
Her father keeps on mingling, while my Bunny gives them the necessary smile when needed. But that’s it.
I never thought that when I saw her that day, standing outside in a leather skirt that I would become so fixated on her.
So entranced with her.
I’ve had my fair share of women. Fuck, I’ve even been married. And not once has any woman made me want to go fucking crazy like she has.
I’ve known her for so long, yet I feel as if I’m discovering something new about her every time I see her.
I heard she owns a bar downtown, the very same one she has worked at for the last few years. From my understanding, her father was not impressed. I’ve been keeping tabs on her. But I haven’t approached; it’s best I keep my distance and admire from afar.
That one could be dangerous, not for just me. But for my business as well.
She leans into her father and says something. Because I’m watching so closely, I notice how the man practically dismisses her. The way her father used to speak of her always baffled me—it was as if she was just there. Only to be seen, not heard. And I get the feeling that’s how she is meant to be at events as well. He likes to show he is the good family man, but he’s really just a crook with a lot of connections…
Aren’t we all, though, really?
I continue to watch her from the bar as she pulls back and heads away from her family. She moves through the crowd, walking toward the restroom. I set my drink down and head in the direction she just went in. It’s time, little Bunny, you’ve been away too long.
She slips into the ladies’ room, and I wait at the door for a good minute before I slip in, checking there is no one else in here. I walk over and shut the door, locking it from the inside then lean against the sink as I wait for her to walk out. Her eyes are down when the door opens, and she automatically goes to the sink, but before she reaches it, her eyes lift and she spots me.
“Whiskey.” Her breathing is suddenly labored, and her eyes narrow. “Last I remember, you had a cock. So why are you in the ladies’ room?” She pushes past me, unfazed, and starts to wash her hands.
“I missed you, Bunny.” She rolls her eyes, it’s slight, but I notice it.
“Could you not find another woman to be your little whore?” She scoffs. “I’m sure you can find someone at the party who would be more than willing to fill those shoes. I’m not interested.”
“But you’re my favorite whore. Why would I try to replace perfection?” I tell her. Oh, how I have dreamt of that fucking pussy. The way it felt, the way it tasted.
It was made for me.
I’m standing in front of the dryer as the tap turns off, and she eyes me.
“Move. I need to dry my hands.” I make no motion to move, I just offer her a smirk. She smirks back at me and steps up closer to me, then places her wet hands on my shirt and starts to wipe them—all the while eye-fucking me with those enrapturing fucking eyes of hers.
Before I can even think, my hand shoots out and grips her arm, pulling her so she falls into me. My other hand grips her face as I slam my lips onto hers. Her mouth opens, and for the briefest of moments, I think she’s going to give in to me. My torture ends as she kisses me back. Her tongue slide into mine, and her hands cling to my shirt, then she pulls back. I should know my Bunny isn’t going to give in so easily.
She pulls away. I take the moment to really take her in. Her eyes meet mine, and I can’t help but think how breathtakingly beautiful she is. From the curves of her hips, to the way her lips form into the shape of a heart—perfection.
Lottie Snow is nothing short of remarkable.
Pity she doesn’t know it.
Her hands touch her perfect, pink lips, which are now swollen, and I’ve smudged her lipstick. She tries to wipe at it with her fingers, but all she does is make it worse.
Those green eyes are as crystal-clear as a perfectly flat lake, and they smash right into me.
“You can’t do that.”
“I did,” I say smugly. And I’d do it again if she would stop backing away from me.
“I have to go.”
