“What did you think I was going to do with it?” King dipped his gun into the ink.
“I don’t know, but not that!”
“Pup?” King asked softly.
“Enough with the questions. You’re distracting me. Go the fuck to bed.”
“But—” I started to argue.
“Bed. Now. Or you can choose to stay, but I’m warning you, if that’s the decision you make and you are still here when I’m done, I’m bending you over that couch and fucking you into next week.”
I scurried out of the room as fast as I could, not stopping to catch my breath, I could still hear him laughing as I closed the door and sank to the floor.
I was totally and utterly, for lack of a better word, FUCKED.
You looked so fucking cute, sitting there concentrating. Where the fuck did that come from? I hadn’t even realized I’d said it out loud until I saw the redness rise in her cheeks. On the other hand, flirting with her and making her uncomfortable was by far becoming my newest and most favorite source of entertainment.
Since she started eating Preppy’s cooking, it only took a couple of days for Pup to pack on some weight. The additional few pounds had done amazing things for her figure. Her sunken cheeks were a little fuller and somehow made her appear even more innocent and cherub-like. Her tits and ass were rounder and begging to be touched even more so than before. She had the body of a woman and the face of an angel and I was constantly walking around like a thirteen year old who had to keep adjusting himself to hide his raging hard-on.
The truth was I didn’t bother her while she was sketching because I didn’t want her to move, and I was perfectly content to just sit and stare at her all night. But then, she would cross and uncross her legs while biting her lip, and all I could think about was how I wanted to be the one to bite that lip. How wet I could make her between those legs.
I didn’t get up from my stool after Neil left because I was afraid she’d look up from her sketch and see my cock standing at attention through my jeans. If she were any other chick, I would draw her attention to it, but I didn’t want to send her running into the other room. I already felt her fighting off whatever attraction she had for me. The horrible truth of the matter is that I didn’t want to scare her away.
Because I actually liked having her around.
Somewhere, somehow, my anger towards her had turned to some sort of fucked-up affection.
Which I had to put a stop to right a fucking away, because any sort of feelings for her other than contention and lust would only get in the way of the plans I had for her.
She was afraid of me. That much was obvious, but there was a fire there, too, and the more she fought it, the more it turned me on.
The way her body reacted to me told me that there was only so long she could resist the inevitable. The inevitable being me fucking her until she couldn’t remember her own name.
It’s not like she knew it anyway.
But I did.
An unfamiliar nagging feeling tugged at my gut.
I brushed it off. There wasn’t time to entertain any feelings of guilt. A better opportunity to get Max back was not going to just fall into my lap like this again. And in the meantime, I was going to spend my time with her as I pleased. In her case, that meant doing everything I had to make her warm, wet, and willing.
“Boss-man!” Preppy shouted, bounding into my studio with his pupils dilated, forgetting to blink like he’d just snorted blow by the fucking truck full.
“What’s up, Prep?” I asked, putting the finishing touches on the tattoo Pup had sketched for me. After I saw it, I needed it on my skin, immediately and permanently and for the life of me I didn’t know why. But after it was done, I felt like a weight was lifted.
“What the fuck is that?” Preppy asked, pointing to the back of my hand. I wiped off the excess ink and blood and held it up so he could see.
“It’s a tattoo, dumb-ass. Or did you forget what it is I do in this room?”
“I know it’s a tattoo, fucker. I just wanted to know why you were tattooing yourself right now.”
“You’ve seen me do it a hundred times so what’s the fucking big deal?” I barked, not liking Preppy’s third degree.
“What exactly is it?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder as I put a layer of plastic wrap over the top.
“It’s nothing. Pup drew it. What exactly is it you wanted?” I hated being short with him, but I wasn’t about to answer questions I myself didn’t exactly know the answers to.