Page 57 of House of Lies

And punish her if she does.

Chapter 22

Cassidy

I wake up irritated and confused, the smell of freshly made coffee filling the guest room. The source is a steaming cup on the dresser by the door. I roll onto my side, wincing as I briefly put weight on my tender ass, and grab my phone to check the time.

It’s dead.

Shit. I didn’t know I’d be away from home for so long, so I didn’t bother packing a charger. I make a note to check if I still have a spare in my car’s glove compartment.

Ha. It’s not like anyone’s going to be dying to get hold of me. Dad only tries every three weeks to get money out of me, so his next call is only due next month again.

I grab a pillow and shove it over my face.

If I had the energy, I’d scream into it.

Day three, and I’m no closer to finding the evidence I’m looking for. Instead of trying to access his computer again last night, I came back to my room like a docile lamb, climbed into bed, and fell fast asleep.

All because he made me come last night.

Nancy Drew didn’t go around acting like a child all the time, and she was a fucking kid.

What’s wrong with me? No sane woman would have willingly submitted to the punishment Remington doled out for me last night.

And yet, there I was—letting him spank me, finger me, and make me come.

The cup of coffee beckons, but I still have to muster up the energy to move. I slept like the dead last night, but I can still remember snatches of the dreams I tumbled into. Dreams where Ethan chased me through the halls of Glenmont Manor and punished me with his cock every time he got hold of me.

If I’d been wearing panties, they would have been damp. But I washed them in my en-suite bathroom last night and hung them so they’d be dry this morning.

No wonder my thighs are sticky.

It was quite the wet dream. I’ve had erotic dreams before, but I always wake up before I can come.

Not this time.

I lick my lips, grimacing at their weird, bitter taste.

I need a shower, pronto. Then I’m going to down that coffee and do my fucking job.

Not the one I’m pretending to do.

Come hell or high water, I’m going to find out what the hell happened to my mother.

Today.

A warm shower does wonders for my mind. Even the lukewarm coffee perks me up a little. But when I turn and see a bright yellow cocktail dress with a chiffon skirt hanging on the closet door, my face scrunches up in confusion.

Where the hell did that come from?

“Morning. I was wondering when you’d—” Ethan cuts off with a strangled sound, pulling the door closed to a crack again.

I’m still in my towel, my damp hair hanging in loose curls around my shoulders.

Why is he making such a fuss? It’s not like I’m naked.

“When I’d what?” I snap, going over to the door and pulling it open. I’m nursing my last few sips of coffee like it’s a bird with a broken wing. “Wake up and realize I’m crazy to still be here?”

---