Page 81 of Dizzy

“You’d be bored.”

“I’m already bored.”

He studies my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for. He should be able to tell from the way I organized the mugs on the counter from biggest to smallest that I’m tellin’ the truth.

“You can’t. I’m workin’ on a new mod.”

“And what? It’s top secret?”

He stares at me evenly. “Why don’t you watch TV?”

“I already watched TV.”

“Did you run out?”

“I want to watch you work.”

He raises his brows. “No.”

Then, he sets his glass on the counter next to the empty Chinese cartons and heads for the door. The sink’s an inch to the right. The trash can’s right under the counter, for that matter.

He slides open the door.

“You just gonna leave your trash on the counter for me to clean up?”

Oh, my Lord. I sound like my mother. I don’t even really care. “Are your arms broke or just your manners?”

Dizzy stops mid-step and turns back to me and cocks his head.

“I said it.” I suck my cheek and raise my eyebrows right back.

And he grins so wide, I can see his back teeth. He eyes the clock and shrugs a shoulder. “I guess I got a few minutes, naughty girl.”

And then he starts for me. Oh.

Shit.

I bolt, shrieking. Down the stairs, out the front door, around the house. I haven’t totally lost my mind. I don’t want him to catch me in the middle of the road and have the neighbors call the cops. Houses are spread out here in the country, but sound carries.

He catches me on the deck stairs in the back of the house. I have a half-formed plan to get back inside and lock him out, but he grabs me mid-step. My legs flail.

“Let me down!”

Instead, he holds me tight to his chest and bends forward until my boobs are pressed against the wood stairs.

“You asked for it, baby.” All I can see are the utility tubs under the deck through the gap between stairs, but I can tell he’s fiddling with his belt.

Uh, oh. I don’t know if I’m ready for this yet. We looked at it together on his phone, and it turned me on, but I don’t know if I want this in reality.

It’s not like me to start shit I can’t finish, though.

Should I saybanana falafel?

But then I wouldn’t know what’s gonna happen.

He must feel the fight leave my body. He rises, no longer pinning me down with his chest.

“Hold on to the steps, naughty girl.” He cracks his belt. Blood surges to my pussy, making me swollen and needy. I whimper, and I grab the edge of the step, screwing my eyes shut. If it’s too bad, I can safe word. Or say stop. He will. I’ve tested him.

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