Page 42 of Casita Casanova
I lean back in my seat. “So that’s what you’re into? No strings?”
He shrugs.
“Sex with strangers?”
He smirks, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip for a painfully long stretch of silence. He licks his lips, then pulls the bottom one between his teeth, dropping his gaze to my mouth. “Who said anything about sex, Maryn? I could make you come in other ways.”
I stand up quickly, nearly knocking my chair over in my haste. “Good night, Mr. West.”
Chuckling, he stands, then takes his sweet time finishing his glass of wine, all the while, his eyes remain locked on me. Then he sets his glass on the table and inclines his head. “Thank you for dinner, Maryn.”
He steps away from the table and I brace myself for what he might do next, half of me wanting him to grab me and show me all the things he thinks about when he looks at me like that.
The other half of me terrified of the fact that Iwantthat to happen.
Chapter Thirteen
Ridge
This fucking bed is too small; my feet hung off the end all night. It’s also hard as a rock and my back aches something fierce. I need to find a gym today, work out some of these kinks in my shoulders. I spent most of the night jerking off while thinking about my new landlord. When thoughts of Maryn didn’t lead to my cock in my hands, they led to pondering her.
She intrigues me, though I’m not sure why. The feeling is a new one for me.
Women have only everintriguedmewith what’s between their thighs.
That’s about the extent of my interest in anything they have to offer.
And yeah, I’d like to get to know what’s between my new landlord’s thighs, but with Maryn, it’s different. Something about her makes me want to, like…talk?
I shake my head in disgust. This fresh air is poisoning my brain. I need smog and city pollution. I can’t think straight without it. Clearly. I need to get home and fuck a few bottle bunnies, then make some acquisitions for the firm to remind me who the fuck I am.
Cassius Ridgeway Westcott, motherfuckers. I’m a king. A god among men.
And I’ve been shipped off to California like the company can function without me. I scoff, the thought leaving a bitterness in my mouth and a heaviness in my soul. Of course they can’t function without me. They fucking need me. I’m Westcott’s son; he built that empire forme.
Beth better clean this shit up fast so I can get home. Six months won’t fucking work. I should have put my foot down before, but the woman guilted me into compliance.
Well, fuck that. I won’t be pushed out of my kingdom by anyone, not even the woman that reminds me so much of my mother.
I groan and push up off my prison cot.
I’ll put in a week, maybe two, because I’m curious about how the other ninety-nonepercent live, but that’s it. After my two weeks, I’m heading home.
And I better get Maryn into my bed before that time is up. Wait. Looking down at the tiny bed, I nudge it with my toes and listen to it squeak and creak. On second thought, I better get Maryn intoherbed. This one would collapse if I gave her the fucking she so obviously wants.
The sun’s been up for an hour now, and I’m starting to get hungry, but I can’t imagine Maryn will feed me after the shit I pulled last night. But I couldn’t help myself. She makes me want to push her buttons. She rewards each poor choice of words with slight gasps and pink cheeks, those little signs on her body making me imagine what else I could do to her. Deep gasps as I drive into her. Flushed cheeks as I make her work up a sweat riding me.
Instead of saying my name in reprimand, she couldscreamit.
Beg for me.
Fuck. I look down at my Thor. He’s ready for another tug.
I open the door and step outside instead. The cool air will do me some good, and sunrise is my favorite time of day. Even though I missed it, there’s still a hint of that early morning shade of lavender. I stand outside the door of my tiny shed and turn my face up to the sky, closing my eyes as I breathe in that citrusy plant smell.
When I open my eyes and lower my head, my gaze lands on the kitchen window.
And Maryn standing on the other side of it.
