Page 7 of Such a Naughty Girl

‘Can I request sugar and some milk? Or will it cost me more of mydignity?’Her words held a petulant sting whichmademe grin. The girl had bite.

‘It only costsdignityif you let it. Ain’t nobody else gonna know other than Chunk here, and I don’t think he’ll be telling anyone.’

‘Is that a no?’She had a prettyvoice, clipped and haughty. The kind ofvoiceI should have had in my previous life as a finance guy. Would havemademe fit in a damn sight more.

‘I can swing it,’I said, fetching both and watching as she put two spoons of sugar into themug, mixing it, and adding a dash of milk. ‘Thank you.’

Her body relaxed as she sunk back into the couch, shoulders dipping. She watched me with a wary gaze. Like I might snatch themugaway.

‘You gottaname?’I asked, removing my boots and sliding my cold feet under Chunk’s furry side. He hogged the log burner, as usual.

‘I’m not convinced I should give it to you.’

‘You’ve had my dick in your hand and my cum on your face, what’s anameafter that? I’m Emmett.’

The wind chose that moment to whistle hard through the window gaps, and my guest shivered, glancing up at the noise.

Prissy little thing probably never spent the night outside some fancy mansion.

‘It’s Isabelle. Or Izzy. I don’t mind.’

‘You don’t mind… but what do you prefer?’

Blinking, she tilted her head an inch to the right, almost like having preferences of her own was an alien concept.

‘I guess IpreferIzzy. It’s what my friends call me at college. Everyone at home calls meIsabelle. My mother’s always hated nicknames.’A tiny note of defiancerangin her voice.

Good.

Better thatshe learn to cut the apron strings soonerratherthan later. Parents only complicated relationships. Assuming she cared about meeting some young guy. Or girl. Someone who polished their shoeseverymorning andrangtheir Mommyeverynight. Who abstained from anything remotely salacious in search of good, clean fun.

A chump.

‘Izzy it is,’ I said.

The room dipped to darkness, only the orange glow of the burner giving a weak light.

‘Oh, god,’ Izzy whispered.

‘Emmett will do,’ I chuckled, standing to get some pillar candles and standing them on the kitchenette counter.

‘You’re mighty full of yourself for a man living in the back of nowhere all by himself.’

‘You’re free to go if you don’t like it, Princess. Think that coffee will keep you goinguntilthey can get the power back on?Untilyou can ring out and get someone to help with your car?’

Her eyes narrowed.

Thecandlescast a dancing light over the room, my shadow casting over her like a monster as I grabbed a pair of old joggers from my dresser. They landed beside her, dragging her eyes over their worn, grey fabric.

‘No thank you,’she said.

‘Put them on. Your trousers are soaked and I don’t need a stinking case of pneumonia to deal with on top of no power.’

‘Well, at least it doesn’t sound like you want to axe me in my sleep.’She picked the pants up between two fingers.

Using thebathroommade my nose crinkle. It already smelled likeher. She’d only been in my cabin for an hour. Grumbling, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. For the first time in forever, I noted the deepening lines around my eyes. The greyinghairat my temples.

Hell, I looked old.

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