Page 6 of Dirty Dillon

“Anything,” she repeats, her voice breathy and her eyes wide.

I smirk. “No.”

That riles her up. “What? I thought you said—”

“I said I can think of a few things,” I interrupt, “but I didn’t say I would do them. Besides, I don’t think you’re ready for what I have in mind.”

Cressida’s eyes narrow. “Try me,” she says, her voice daring me to prove her wrong.

I step closer to her, my body nearly touching hers. She inhales sharply, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I’m a big dude and I hope that’s enough to change her mind. “You sure you want me to try you, baby?” I ask, my voice a low growl.

She’s beginning to see that maybe she’s outmatched for once. My guess is she usually gets what she wants with a little flirting.

“You’re definitely not ready to tangle with me. I wouldn’t want to get you all dirty.”

Her eyes flicker to my lips, then back up to my eyes. “I don’t mind getting dirty sometimes,” she says, her voice husky with desire.

This girl is playing with fire, and I have a feeling she’s not the only one who’ll get burned.

“What do you think you can do for me that will be comparable to the cost of a car repair? You got some hidden talent, sorority girl?”

She’s starting to get a little nervous. I think she thought she was just going to pay me in euphemisms and innuendo. “I can give you a blow job?”

She must really want her car fixed because she wears a look of reluctant determination. Who wants a reluctantly determined blow job? Jesus. If it’s not eager and sloppy as fuck, what’s the point?

She slides to her knees and looks up at me with amber eyes full of unease.

Who is this woman? She’s beautiful, smart, sassy...and doesn’t have a lick of real self-esteem. And now I know I’m in trouble because the challenge in taming this brat just did a one-eighty.

I still want to bring her to hand.

But now I want to fix her broken parts too. Fuck me. I coulda had an uncomplicated fuck, but no, I had to go and catch feelings.

“Get off the fucking floor.”

Cressida’s face falls, her mouth turns down while her hands fidget, twisting her dress in her fingers. She loses that haughty princess look for a split second. Enough for me to realize how fragile she really is.

I want her mouth on me more than I should for someone I just met, but I want her taking me in that sassy mouth because she can’t think of anything she wants more. Not because she thinks that’s all she’s worth.

Who did this to her?

Goddammit.

I help her to her feet, then she yanks her arm out of my grasp.

“Well?” She presses her glossy lips together, arms crossing over her chest. I see her putting on her defiant little face inch by inch. What a transformation. How many people does she fool with that mask? “Are you going to fix my car or not?”

There she is. The brat is back. We’re going to enjoy getting to know each other. I haven’t been this excited in a long time.

“I’ll fix your car, princess, but we’re doing this my way. You’ll work as my receptionist for a week, and if you give me any attitude, I’m turning you over my fucking knee.”

Her eyes widen, but I see the flash of heat in their depths. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I stalk closer, crowding her against the wall. She shivers as I place my hands on either side of her head, leaning in until our noses brush. “Try me.”

She doesn’t push me away.

A soft whimper escapes her as she averts her eyes. “I don’t know the first thing about being a receptionist.”

---