Page 11 of Never Die for a Sinner
The lamb and the big bad wolf.
I smirk, leaning forward and placing both my hands on the dresser beside her, effectively caging her in. She’s so small, I tower over her, especially at this angle. She keeps her eyes on my chest, refusing to meet my gaze.
“I think you’re pissed off because I’m not bringing you into my room at night. I bet if I slipped my hand into your panties right now, you’d be soaking wet for me.” She swallows audibly, a tremor moving through her. She looks to the side when I press just that hair’s breadth closer, nearly aligning my body with hers. “That what you want?” Her breath hitches when I reach up, dragging my knuckles down the side of her neck. “You want to befucked until you don’t have to think about anything but me and the things I’m doing to you, sweetheart?”
Fuck, she smells like heaven. Like salvation.
Like everything I can’t fucking have.
“You’re an asshole,” she grits, her voice breathier than usual. “And I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me a million dollars.”
“Is that so?”
A throat clears behind us, and Ava launches away from me like I’ve just spontaneously caught fire. I don’t move for a moment because I don’t give a fuck who’s at the door. I’m having too much fun.
“Ava, what are you doing in here?” Paulina’s voice is stern, and I cock a brow in her direction. She’s never been outwardly warm toward the housekeeper, which is strange to me. Usually, Paulina loves the strays with as much heart as anyone else in the family.
I mean, fuck, she practically keeled over when Mila went missing the second time.
“I-I-I’m sorry.”
There’s thatI’m sorryshit again. I’ll break that habit if it fucking kills me.
“I’ll just go.”
“I think that would be wise,” Paulina says, her cheeks flushed with irritation.
Ava rushes to grab the sweeper cord, but I beat her to it. Picking it up, I don’t hand it to her. I look right over her head at Paulina, and judging by the way her lips tighten, she understands exactly what I’m saying.
I’m the only one allowed to fuck with Ava. Aunt or not, I won’t tolerate her hostility.
“It’s okay, Paulina,” I murmur, stepping right into Ava’s face. She glowers up at me, and the eye contact sears. “She can look if she wants. We both know she wouldn’t know what to do with it if she got her hands on it.”
And then I drop the cord in her hand and push past her into the bathroom to shower and jerk off to the image of the pretty little housekeeper on her knees for me, moaning my name.
My brother doesn’t look up from his newspaper when I plop down in the chair across from him.
“Rough night?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, scrubbing a hand over my hair. It’s getting long, but I have no desire to go to a barber and get it cut. Barbers require small talk. I’m not one for small talk.
“Paulina came to tell me you were rude to her this morning.”
Snitch.
“Paulina was rude to the housekeeper.”
Christian smirks. “Justa housekeeper, or a particular housekeeper?”
My brother is turning into a gossip.
“Does it matter? She’s staff.”
“Funny how that only applies when you’re trying to talk yourself out of fucking her.”
“Please, tell me more, Mr. Psychologist. I’d love to hear what other theories you’ve got.”
“Therapy might do you some good. Fix that loose screw in your head.”
