Page 59 of Dizzy

I’m watching him, too. He’ll get a dab of cheese in his beard, and then he’ll wipe his mouth with a worn handkerchief. I’ve noticed he keeps one in his pocket.

It’s funny. Carson and Parker can both sit in their chairs with their heels on the seat and their knees tucked to their chests. Dizzy hardly fits in his. His muscular thighs spill past the sides, and his broad chest totally hides the back of the chair. Only my chair fits just right.

I’m Goldilocks.

Soon enough, both pots are empty. Parker’s eyeing the dirty dishes and casting me grudging glances. I was thinking about offering to clean up, but not now.

“I’ll see to these,” Dizzy says, pushing back from the table. “Boys, you want to order a movie?”

“Seriously?” Carson’s stoked.

“You know the passcode. Don’t pick nothin’ your mom is gonna fuss at me about.”

That is putting a great deal of trust in a seven-year-old.

“Pick one of them superhero movies that you haven’t seen,” he suggests.

“We’ve seen ‘em all,” Parker grumps.

“Then watch one again.”

Carson has no problem with this. He races off, and I guess Parker realizes he better beat his brother to the remote if he wants any kind of say in the decision-making, ‘cause he shakes off his moping and flies off, hot on his tail.

Dizzy turns his attention to me. “We got three solid hours if they pick the last one that came out. The one where they time travel.” He listens for the movie music to blare, and then he smiles, wicked as sin. “You. Go to my bedroom. Take off your pants. Bend over the side of the bed and wait for me.”

I swallow. Instantly, my pussy creams.

Is he serious?

He jerks his chin toward the master suite. “No panties.”

I don’t even have any panties except the ones I bought today, still in the bag with the tags on.

Am I going to do this?

I slowly push back from the table and stand.

It’s wrong, isn’t it? Kinky. I shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t want to do this to me.

I look at him. His gaze is even and sure. There’s a twinkle in his brown eyes. This is a game. I have a safe word.Banana. Orfalafel. I’m not sure where we came down on that.

But it’s also not a game. I’m broke, friendless, and I’m in some kind of trouble with his MC. He’s older than me; he’s got a ton more money than I do. Really, he could do whatever he wants. I’d probably take it for a few more nights of a warm bed and a full belly.

I chew on my lip as I walk slowly down the hall.

I did rack up nine hundred dollars in clothes on his credit card in twenty minutes. It surprised the shit out of me how easy it is to spend that much money.

He could always return the clothes.

Iwasbeing a brat.

Excitement’s thrumming in my belly. My body wants this. Not the pain. But what comes with it. That blissed-out state. That feeling of being tethered down by a cord that can’t break. Secured.

I don’t think he’dreallyhurt me. But what if he doesn’t know his own strength? What if it’s okay, and then it’s not? What if I say stop, and he doesn’t? What if I saybanana, and he laughs?

Even the fear is a mind fuck. On the one hand, it’s ratcheting up my anxiety higher and higher. On the other, it’s amping up the wild nerves swooping in my belly. Making my nipples ache for his touch.

I linger at the door to Parker’s room. I bet if I just went to bed, Dizzy would drop it. And he might never try it again.

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