Page 46 of Queen Of Dark Money

Sheglanced behind herself, a worried look in her beautiful blue eyes. “Butthe mess–”

“--can wait until you’re patched up,Ipromise.”Ideposited her on the couch and lifted a pillow to cover myself.Itwas more for her than me,Itold myself as she let her gaze drop again, blushing and looking away with a quickness.Gonein the day of light was the brave, ballsy woman from the night before.Inher place was a demure socialite who’d had time to consider her rash actions.Shewas playing me, though.Icould feel it.Somethingabout her reactions felt ingenuine, unreal.Likeshe was scripted to act a certain way.

Whichwas the real her?Lastnight, or the one before me now?Perhapssome blend of both?

“I’llgo grab the first aid kit,”Itold her, hurrying down the hall as her eyes burned a hole in my ass.Ididn’t mind nudity, but this was strictly a look-but-don’t-touch situation, and ifIleft my cock hanging beside her face like that, the carefulRiverwould disappear, and in his place would rise the dominant, sex-drivenRiver.Theone who’d been denied his feminine company the night before because ofher.

Hewanted her to make it up to him.AndIwas inclined to let him make her.

Mytext toKingand his crew last night had come back with a single order–keep her safe and unharmed.Inmy honest opinion, that meant keeping her safe from myself and the others, too.Sowith a sigh of resignation,Isettled in, determined to do my part untilKingcalled me back today, like he’d promised.

Ididn’t like to be kept waiting, though.

Itook advantage of her compliance and slipped into a pair of shorts asIstumbled my way through my room, searching for the stupid first aid kit my security dude made me keep on hand after a particularly aggressive night of partying with some girls from the poles one night.Oneof them had slipped and fallen, cut her head up real bad, and bled all over an expensivePersianrug.WecalledEMS, but we could have dealt with it ourselves with better first-aid preparedness.Sonow, all the staff took basic first aid classes and knew where to find all the necessary supplies.

Iwas never more grateful for that decision thanIwas right now.

Iwas supposed to keep this girl safe, unharmed, and already she was sustaining cuts on herself over a fucking glass.

Thiswould be a hell of a week.

Asan afterthought,Igrabbed one of my own teeshirts, a second pair of shorts, and some socks out of a clean basket of laundry and ran back out into the living room, pleased to see she’d stayed whereItold her to.

AsIapproached her, some of her playful, teasing demeanor reappeared, probably thanks to the clothesI’dmanaged to put between my cock and her eyeballs.Shelifted her foot daintily inthe air and waggled her toes pointedly at me, a grin plastered to her lips.

“Areyou going to bandage me up, good sir?Hownoble of you.”

Mybrow rose at her sass, butIdidn’t play into her taunt, choosing instead to focus on her wound.Shedidn’t even hiss asIpoured almost pure rubbing alcohol on it, which was impressive.Iknew grown men who acted like babies with that stuff.Shetook it like a champ.

Alsobehavior unbecoming of a socialite brat.

Odd.

Butnot my problem.

Iwasn’t getting paid to ask questions.Iwas being instructed to watch a single, precious asset.Andwatch her,Iwould.Look, but don’t touch.

Storyof my life.

“Here,”Imuttered, grabbing her by the ankle. “Holdstill.”

Myhand pried open her gash, making sure there was no glass in there beforeIgrabbed a butterfly suture and began tugging the skin together.Itwas in the arch of her foot, so it’d make walking painful for a while.

Iwasn’t averse to carrying a woman around, butIusually did it whileIwas balls deep inside her wet pussy.Ididn’t make a habit of turning intoPrinceFuckingCharming.Andtoday was not the day to start.Anyprolonged contact with her would only be bad news, spelling trouble with a capitalT.

AndIdidn’t need any trouble, thank you.

“I’llhave one of the guys bring up a set of crutches for you,”Itold her matter-of-factly, wrapping some gauze around her foot, followed by an ace bandage wrap.Neatlysecured and ready to heal,Idropped her foot like a lead weight and shoved the small pile of clothes at her, suddenly flustered by the hero worship inher eyes. “Here.Ifigured you might like some actual clothing to wear.Putthese on.”

Shestared down at the clothes like they were venomous snakes that might bite her if she moved. “Arethese your clothes?”

Ishrugged. “No, they’re thePope’s,”Ideadpanned, rolling my eyes. “Ofcourse, they’re mine; who the hell else’s would they be?”

Sheblinked slowly, staring down the hall. “WhataboutRafe–is that his name?Rafe?”

Ofcourse she’d assume he stayed the night.Imean, we did give her the impression we were a thing.Nevermind the fact that we weren’t an item like that–we were just convenient company for each other when the mood struck.Shedidn’t know that, though.

ShouldIeven bother correcting her?

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