Page 8 of Depraved Favors

Peyton has to be the hottest woman I’ve ever encountered. Her long brunette hair that hangs in soft curls down her back, a tight ass I could make out from her leggings, and a plump chest I unashamedly ogled at before handing my jacket over. I’ve managed my bar for over fifteen years now and never seen a woman like that walk in. Perhaps I’m tempted because I know we shouldn’t be together, that everyone around us would frown upon it. Maybe it’s because I know her heart was just broken and she isn’t looking to get attached. That’s what made it more dangerous. I knew her offer had a time limit. And all I can think about since I woke up is her teasing promise to find some douche frat boy to fuck her and leave her unsatisfied today.

It should be me. I should be stretching that tight fucking pussy and filling it with my cum till it overflows. I groan, my cock throbbing as I come all over the tiled wall. My vision wavers, and I lean my head against my forearm on the wall as I try to catch my breath. I finish washing up and wrap the towel around my waist. Flinging the bathroom door open, I stare into the blue eyes of the woman I was just fantasizing about. Her gaze drags down the length of my body, and I almost harden again when she bites down on her luscious bottom lip.

She shifts her thighs and then shakes her head. “I have to pee. Move before I undo the knot shielding your dick.”

My dick perks up at the attention, approving the thought. He most definitely wants her to do it; then maybe she could slide to her knees and—I slam the door behind me and head back to my room. Locking it to keep out the vixen around the corner, I grab my jeans and t-shirt and throw them on before making my way to the kitchen. The snores from the living room tell me Brit is still asleep, so I opt for a simple breakfast of bagels for everyone.

Peyton joins me in the kitchen, grabbing my coffee from my hand and taking a sip. She scrunches her nose before handing it back.

“Not sweet enough.”

I smirk. “I have vanilla creamer in the fridge.”

Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, I pour the rest of the pot into it and set it to the side. She leans against the counter with me, teasing me with the same shirt from last night, but now she has leggings on.

“How was the rest of your night?” she asks, fixing her coffee how she likes.

“Restless.”

Peyton glances up at me. “Really? Why?”

I glide my tongue along the back of my teeth, staring at her. She watches me back over the rim of her cup, a faint smile curling her lips as she sips.

Shaking my head, I push a bagel and the tub of cream cheese to her. “Eat. You didn’t have much at dinner.”

She frowns at the food. “I wasn’t very hungry.”

“And now that you know the truth, it’s not gonna change anything if you starve yourself.”

With a sigh, she grabs the knife and lathers the toasted bagel with cream cheese and takes a bite. She holds it in front of my face, showing off as she chews with a mocking raised eyebrow.

“Good girl.”

Her cheeks flush, and she swallows, licking the corner of her mouth. “Thanks, Daddy. But I think I’ll take physical rewards, not praise.”

I grimace. “Don’t call me that, Peyton.”

She lets out a laugh. “That’s your limit?”

“Yeah. Reminds me I have a daughter your age and what I did to you last night.”

Peyton rolls her eyes. “Please, you didn’t do anything I wasn’t begging for. Actually, you did less than what I was asking for.”

I straighten up from where I’m leaning on the counter and stare down at her with crossed arms. “It still wasn’t right. You were emotionally vulnerable.”

She licks the cream cheese stuck to her thumb, looking up through fluttered eyelashes. “Do I seem better now? Because I would be down for a repeat.”

My cock hardens behind my jeans, and I blow out a breath, adjusting myself as discreetly as I can. She smiles in victory.

“Morning,” Brit groans, walking in with tousled hair, still in her pajamas. Peyton glances at her, moving a small step away from me. I hate that she does, but I hate myself even more for caring.

“Morning. I made you girls some bagels. I know it’s not anything special, but honestly, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t eat at the bar,” I say.

Brit frowns. “That can’t be healthy.”

“Well, I control the menu, so we have a good amount of options.” I pull up my shirt, flexing my muscles, and Brit grimaces further. “I work off anything else in the gym.”

“Ew, put it away,” she groans, walking over and grabbing a bagel, then sitting at the small square table against the wall. It only has two chairs, one for me and whatever random date I occasionally bring home.

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