Page 3 of Sweet, Sweet Jewel: A Sweet Treats Novel

A man.

He was… beautiful. Thick, luscious brown hair. Sandy-colored skin. Deep, soulful brown eyes. Thin lips. A jaw carved by an expert sculptor.

Jewel blinked rapidly. He was younger than she’d expected. Couldn’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five.

/> “Is this her?” he asked. His voice was deep, causing her to second guess his age. That voice and the searing gaze belonged to an older man with a hundred years of experience under his belt.

Anastasia planted slim hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

Instead of responding to her, the handsome man stared at Jewel. It wasn’t a lecherous gaze. Unlike Stanley, her mother’s ex-boyfriend, who’d undressed her with his eyes, this man’s gaze was slightly removed, as if he were admiring a statue.

Suddenly, he nodded and spoke in a low voice. “Take your clothes off.”

Her heart exploded with a mixture of unease and nerves. Jewel stiffened but, strangely, she felt no horror, no fear. Something about this man made her usual resistance melt away. She wanted to please him.

What was wrong with her?

Jewel’s fingers trembled as she raised her arms to find the button at the back of her dress, but when she heard the sound of fabric thumping against the ground, she whipped her head to the left.

Anastasia stood in the golden light. Buck naked. Her dress pooled around her bare feet.

Confusion spread in Jewel’s head as she watched Anastasia walk over to the man. He offered his hand. Anastasia took it and lowered herself to the rug, splaying her long black hair behind her.

The man glanced at Jewel, smoothly ignoring the young girl prostrate in the thick fibers. His deep voice washed over the back of her neck and down to the tips of her toes. “Watch.”

Jewel nodded her understanding.

The man took his shirt off, revealing a lean back that rippled golden in the light. He unbuttoned his pants and slipped them off, folding them neatly over the arm of the sofa.

Jewel watched it all as if she’d never seen the sequence before, as if her life hadn’t been riddled with men who couldn’t control their lusts and their zippers.

The man dropped to the rug, caressed Anastasia’s cheek and thrust himself inside her. Jewel listened to Anastasia’s moans, watched them buck against each other—all without blinking. All without moving.

Memories of her own sexual experiences struggled to crowd her mind. But she didn’t have a chance to delve into those dark places. Not because she was strong enough or because they hadn’t scarred her.

It was the man.

Even though his body was connected with Anastasia’s, his eyes were glued to hers. She wondered if he found more pleasure in the sight of her staring at them than in the fact that he was having sex.

A minute passed.

Two.

Four.

Anastasia let out a howling cry and the man pulled out.

Slowly, reverently, he climbed on top of Anastasia, his hands around her throat. He finally tore his gaze away from Jewel and muttered to the woman shuddering beneath his weight, “Good job, my pet.”

Anastasia’s moans shifted from unabashed pleasure to snorts of horror as the man tightened his fingers around her neck. Her scrawny knees trembled; her legs kicked.

Jewel’s nerves skittered with fear as the man calmly choked Anastasia in front of her. Was this a part of their agreement? She’d never seen anything like it before. Should she run? Push him off? Call the police?

Before she could decide on anything, Anastasia went still.

The man climbed off her and threw away the condom. Next, he wiped his fingers on a cloth that had been folded neatly on the sofa. His chest heaved and when he looked at her, a warm, almost friendly smile glittered on his stunning face.

Jewel pushed past her anxiety and demanded, “Is she alive?”

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