Page 67 of For the Sub

“If you have any hope of sleeping, Whisper needs to come in. He’ll claw the door or hang from the window screen.”

“The one in your bedroom?”

“Yeah. And he’s pretty vocal about his desires.”

“Do his voice and actions measure on the earthquake scale?”

“Not much. I think last time it was only a two-point-three or something.”

He grinned at her. He’d been involved with a fair number of women over the years—before Eleanor. And he had sisters. None of them had collected strays like Brandy did. The woman had a soft heart.

“I didn’t ask,” she said, her eyes going wide. “Crap. Are you allergic?”

“No.”

“Do you hate cats? A lot of men do.”

“That’s not a moral judgment, right?”

“Answer the question, Sir.”

She’d drawn her eyebrows together, and her anxiety radiated across the distance, almost as disturbing as the animal’s shrieks.

“I’m okay with them. But the only pussy I want on my face when I wake up in the morning is yours.”

“Oh, Sir. That’s fair.”

Bracing her free hand on one of his shoulders, she eased herself up and leaned into him to kiss his cheek.

Shit.

Coming here today had been a mistake.

Staying was an even bigger one.

Daring to think beyond that bordered on stupidity.

But here he was doing just that. The more time he spent with her, the greedier he became.

“I’ll go feed Whisper,” she said.

“You can leave that towel here.”

Her eyes widened, but she instantly did as he said, dropping it, baring herself to him.

Another mistake.

He ached to bend her over the vanity and fuck her with the energy churning in him.

The cat cried again, and Niles shuddered. “Jesus. That sound could be a real mood killer.”

She glanced purposefully at his cock.

It was still hard and insistent. “Okay.” He held up his hand. “Turns out nothing will kill my mood when it comes to you.” Not with her full, inviting curves.

She’d confessed to having masturbated while thinking about him. He had done the same—daily—while remembering her.

Niles spent a lot of time with models and actresses.

---