Page 27 of The Fox

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I can’t even do this simple thing right.” The tears are streaming down her face, and after several tries of wiping them, Amelia just covers her face with both hands, hiding herself from me. She says something and I can’t make it out. I reach over for her wrists, pulling them down onto her stomach, holding them as my thumb caresses the damp skin.

“Say that again, baby.”

Her stare goes to the ceiling and if she were mine, truly mine, I’d count her breaking eye contact as a strike and it’d earn her a pink-tinged handprint against that golden skinned ass. We aren’t there yet, but the second I get to spank Amelia? My palm twitches and I save that vision for my shower later.

I feel her take a deep breath, rolling her lips before she repeats herself.

“Rhodes, I have never been the prize, and yet here you are. An Adonis of a man, lying next to a sack of potatoes like me.”

“I love potatoes.”

“You know what I mean.”

Furrowing my brow, I look at her profile, noting the way her brow slopes into a strong nose. Her lips purse with each breath and as her chest rises, then falls, I take all of her in. She could be in the sexiest scraps of silk and I’d still prefer this version of her. Yes, she’s wearing a sweatshirt and the tightest pair of shorts I have ever seen. The way the skin-tight fabric molds to her valleys and curves would bring any man down in supplication.

My eyes roam back to her face and then travel the length of her hair. Long enough I would wrap it around my fist, guiding her while she kneels at my feet or pounding her pussy from behind. The slivers of purple woven through her strands are fitting for Amelia, giving the smallest glimpse of who is behind the curtain.

“I don’t, Amelia. I do actually love potatoes. I also happen to love the way your body is. This is a warrior’s weapon if you ask me.”

A noise escapes her, letting me know that she isn’t convinced.

“You could make any person, man or woman, fall to their feet and do your bidding. Not only are the curves on your body downright sinful but this,” I tap the side of her head, “this is one of the most brilliant things about you. I’ve never seen you be rude to a single person, you track every little thing about someone, and you command a room simply by being present. You’re usually three steps ahead of everyone else.” I place my hand on her cheek, pulling her gaze to mine. “You are not a sack of potatoes, even though I’d love to eat you.”

A giggle escapes before Amelia realizes it, and I will never forget the sound. Hearing this woman be happy is now my mission, my life’s work. If I could take the sadness and hurt she’s feeling and wrap it into my bones, I would.

The giggles cease, her eyes now focused on the rest of my body. “But what about you?” She asks, gesturing to the raging erection I’ve had since she climbed into my bed, mixing her scent with mine.

“I’ll be fine.” I duck my head to meet her eyes that have lowered and she looks up through those lashes. “I’m old friends with rubbing one out in the cold shower,kochanie. Besides, I’ve a vision in my bed that I most definitely will be using later to my advantage.” Her cheeks heat, the blush rising up her face. “I want you to know that I will stop should you say stop. You letting me in? That is an absolute treasure that I will never take for granted. I want you to know that I am someone you can trust, Amelia.”

Those big, grey orbs widen as they look at me. It is as if I could see into the very depths of her if I wanted to; the flecks subtly marked against a darker grey, variations of hues dancing in the pale light from the lamp on the nightstand.

“I’m not worth it, Rhodes.”

I blink in disbelief, then anger sets in. “I don’t know whoever made you feel that way, baby. I’d kill them if you gave me a name. The fuckers. I don’t like you talking about yourself this way. Fuck them. Fuck. Them.” She gasps, sitting up a little and turning into me. “You are worth more than the stars in the sky, Amelia. It is a godsdamn shame you don’t see it, but that’s alright. I’ll remind you just how much you are worth every day, if you’ll let me.”

I watch as she sits completely straight up, hair draping her shoulders, and she pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands. “Why did you thank me for stopping earlier? I told you I would.” Her hands stop their movement and she swallows hard. I watch her run her tongue along her teeth before she answers.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to trust my body with you. Iwantto. Gods, I want to have you against me so badly. I’ve never been able to say something and another person just accept it.”

I peer up at her, an idea forming in my head. It is very likely that it’ll push her to the upper end of her limits, forcing her to establish a boundary that will be uncomfortable. I can feel my eyes narrowing as Amelia fidgets before me. She is uncomfortable with being in the spotlight but not because she doesn’t like the attention. She’s never felt worthy of being focused on by someone, let alone without stipulation tied to it.

It is time we break that.

I sit up, crossing my legs in front of me so that our knees touch. Amelia moves to mimic my movement, and I softly push her back against my mattress. Maintaining eye contact, I reach one hand up, dancing my fingertips across her temple, before weaving my hand in her hair and giving it a slight tug. That mouth I’d love to slip my cock into parts on a gasp. I bring my other hand to ghost up her arm, blazing a trail from her wrist then to her shoulder, and finally resting at her jaw. I cup it, staring into her eyes, and wait for her to make her move. I watch as her breath stutters, then quickens, trying not to pay attention to the way her eyes heat with desire that she is terrified to act on.

“Do you touch yourself, Amelia?” My voice is lower, softer, and commanding. Another soft gasp leaves her, and I bring my face down to hers, our noses touching. “Tell me, do you play with this pussy when she’s drenched, starving for attention?”

My lips barely touch hers, a tease as I grin against her. Keeping my hand in her hair, I run my other palm down the center of her until I reach the swell of her hips, my thumb rubbing under the hem of her sweatshirt. Her eyes tighten, and I tighten my grip on her crown. “Do you slip one of these dainty fingers between the lips of your swollen cunt, collecting your own wetness before slamming them deep inside you?”

“Rhodes,” she breathes. I rub my fingers along her belly, keeping my touches light and unassuming. I’ve seen her curves dance when no one is around, illuminated by the dimmed lights in her house. She doesn’t realize just how close I’ve been—how well she has been watched over.

“Are you loud as you force your cunt to take another finger, the slight stretch fueling your friction? Do you push these goddess hips as wide as they’ll pull, your fingers hungry to reach that spot you can’t ever seem to get to by yourself? Is your dresser drawer full of toys, ones that you pull out when stuffing your aching pussy isn’t enough?” I pause, waiting for an indication that she’s reached a limit, smirking when I don’t see one. “Can I lift this sweatshirt a little, Amelia?”

She nods, and for anyone else that may have been enough. Fuck anyone else. Nonverbal consent will not work for me right now.

“Words, Amelia.”

“Yes, Rhodes.”My brave girl.

---