Page 42 of The Woman

I had everything set up before the guys arrived so that we could start playing immediately without any delays, and I purposely had no food laid out for them so that we would finish sooner and there would be no lingering around.

Now, here she is, defying me and walking out here with that fucking blank half-smile.

But what’s really causing the vein in my temple to throb and my muscles to pull tight is what she’s wearing in front of the guys; the same tiny dress she was wearing that first night that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. There is no room for a bra underneath, so she’s not wearing one of those, which you can tell. And her legs look like they go on for days, even though she’s not tall by any means.

A spark of heat stirs in my chest where my heart bashes against my ribcage, but I’m unsure whether it’s from anger or arousal. It quickly spreads to the rest of my body, though, including my cock, which I can feel getting thicker in my jeans, so I guess that gives me my answer.

“Fuck me, she is hot.”

My head snaps to Mario, and I want to murder him for even looking at her, let alone having thoughts about what he might like to do to her.

I’m pulled from my glaring when I feel liquid trickling over my skin, and I notice I’m crushing the carton of juice in my hand, causing the contents to spill out the top.

“Shit,” I hiss quietly and step back, placing the carton on the counter.

“Would you like me to do anything?” Avery asks sweetly from beside me now.

Fake.

My eyes meet hers, and I can see the glimmer there, the cheekiness buried in her stare, daring me to announce that I told her to stay in her room and ask what the hell she’s doing out here.

But she knows I can’t do that.

A normal woman wouldn’t have to be told anything twice and would have followed through with any instructions. If I reveal that she didn’t do as she was told, I’m not only putting her in danger but myself as well for keeping quiet about her.

I thought after last night, she would understand that I was just trying to keep her safe.

If she wants to play like this, though, I will.

My expression is bored as I tell her, “Clean up this mess.” I wave a hand at the juice on the ground and then wait for her to comply because as much as she likes pushing my buttons, I know she also doesn’t want to be sent off.

She nods and walks over to the sink for a cloth, but not before I see her eyes flash at me.

That’s right, beautiful, two can play this game.

“You can make us some snacks, too. Right, Phoenix?” Mario speaks up, dropping a hand on my shoulder and giving a good-natured squeeze. “You had nothing ready for us like you usually do.”

I want to say no. I’m annoyed at him for telling her to do something. And I want to tell her to go back to her room. But then my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten dinner yet and I’m starving. Not to mention, I somewhat like the fact that I can tell her to do things, and she can’t say no in front of them, even though she may want to.

So, I nod in agreement. “Yeah, she doesn’t mind making me food. She likes doing anything I ask.”

Stepping over to me with the cloth, Avery eyes me with a forced smile. “Of course I do.” Then she’s dropping to her knees.

I’m still pissed at her, but I’m getting a weird pleasure out of seeing her cleaning up a mess I made, knowing it’s not because she’s an obedient companion but because she made a choice to come out here and play with me, messing with my mind.

She changes positions, making it so that I get an eyeful of her ass while she’s on her hands and knees, and my traitorous eyes don’t seem to want to turn away from it.

“Damn.”

It takes me a moment to register Mario still standing beside me, watching the very same thing I am.

Within seconds, my hands are gripping her and pulling her up so fast that she almost stumbles over. I don’t let her fall, though. I pull her close to me, surrounding myself with her scent and softness, and then I use the opportunity to remind Mario that she is, in fact, mine by leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips.

She’s stunned and a little disorientated at first when I pull back, but then her eyes focus on my lips, and she licks hers. I forget that we even have an audience for a moment, drawn to unique eyes and soft lips. That is until she forces an empty smile up at me.

“I didn’t finish cleaning the floor. Would you like me to start some food instead?”

My eyes narrow. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to return to her room, and we’ll handle it from here. But I don’t. She came out here and started this thing, and the part of me that feels the need to have her do what I say is bubbling to the surface.

---