Page 36 of Becoming His Pet

“You’re not eating,” he said while shoveling eggs into his mouth. He hadn’t even looked down at her.

Silently she went back to her meal, enjoying the food, and doing her damnedest to block out the foot only inches away from her. It was bad enough to be eating from a damn dog dish, but to be doing it at his feet—it was too much.

Clearly the stress from the past few days was getting to her. She needed to keep a level head and be smart. No more giving him reasons to do awful things to her. No more getting all riled up. She just needed to think and to do that she needed information.

When she finished the eggs, she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t bother trying to pretend she looked pretty, knowing she had eggs smashed on her cheeks here and there.

His fork dropped onto his plate, and he pushed back from the table. She remained quiet, as he rinsed out his coffee cup and stashed it in the drainer next to the sink.

“Can I have a cup of coffee?” she asked, noticing the pot of brewed goodness on the counter.

“No. Maybe later, when you’re behaving and sitting at the table.” He didn’t even look back at her as he grabbed the full pot and poured the dark gold down the drain. Her temper started to rise. He was being a dick just to be a dick.

“Greg. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the full truth yesterday.” Her jaw ached from the amount of apologizing she’d done since meeting him.

“I talked with my brother this morning,” he said, turning around and leaning his ass against the sink. He casually hooked his right ankle over his left and crossed his arms over his chest. His jeans bulged at his groin, where his cock was nestled in his boxers. She looked away. What sort of horny slut thinks about her captor’s cock while being treated like a god damn animal?

She obviously needed to step up her game when she got home. She couldn’t go so long without sex—it warped her mind.

“Think I can get up now?” She pointed at the chair beside her.

“Not yet.” He shook his head and looked at her. Really looked at her. His inspection began with her face, and her cheeks heated, knowing there had to be at least a little shine from the butter left on her from the eggs. When his gaze traveled to her breasts, she bit down on the inside of her cheek.

Her boobs weren’t her best attribute. Too small and her nipples were tiny. But she wouldn’t cover them. He didn’t get to see her insecurity about them, he could come up with whatever repulsive reaction he wanted.

He licked his lips while staring at her chest, and her stomach fluttered. Damn him. Damn him to hell making her feel so vulnerable.

Her hands itched to move, to cover herself, but her pride had returned in full force. He wanted to see her naked before him, fine, he could see, but she’d never let him touch. Never.

She noticed the dampness between her legs just as his stare landed on her groin. Her legs were parted with the way she sat back on her heels, but she wouldn’t snap them shut. Let him look. Let him see what he’d be missing.

If her fucking heart would slow down, if the warmth would stop spreading through her fucking body like a forest fire, she might be able to hear what he was saying.

“You’re very pretty, Nora,” he said softly. “You haven’t asked about calling a boyfriend or husband, so I’ll assume you’re single?”

“And completely out of your league,” she snapped but recognized the crack in her voice when she spoke. The grin covering his face showed her exactly how much he believed her.

“You reacted to the caning, your body did at least. Your pussy got all hot and wet for me.”

“You were telling me about your brother.” Divert! Divert!

He ignored her. “What did you think about it later? When you played it over in your head, did you get the same reaction?”

“Did he have any information about Antonio’s death?” Ignoring a bully would sometimes work—it never did when she was a little girl, but maybe times had changed.

“Same reaction.” His grin widened, showcasing that sexy little crease on the side of his mouth.

She moved her knees closed. Fuck, she could smell her own arousal at the memory, at his stare on her now, what if he could?

“You’re messing with my head.” She shook her head and rubbed her temples.

“No. I think I’m showing you things about yourself you didn’t know, or maybe didn’t understand before.” He uncrossed his ankles and sat back in his chair, running his fingers over her hair. “That makes me happy.”

And damned if she didn’t lean into his fucking palm.

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