Page 75 of Brutal Prince

She found her phone in her bag and quickly text someone. I couldn’t stop looking at her. That mouth I wanted to kiss again and again and that body I yearned to fuck one more time before she left.

I sat up and stretched my arms along the back of the couch as she walked back to me. “Are you going to tell me?” she asked again, standing over me.

I chuckled. “I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

She smiled and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously while her right foot found my crotch and pressed against it.

“Are you trying to mess with the devil?” I asked her.

She barely flinched at my comment, digging her toes into the meat protected only by a single piece of fabric. “Are you trying to hoodwink Medusa?” She bent over me so our faces were dangerously close, “Bad idea.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, enjoying the game. “I like the way you think, Medusa,” running my hands up her bare thighs.

“Tell me,” she hissed, pressing her foot further down on my bulging crotch.

I grunted in both pain and desire.

“What did my father do to be sentenced to death?” her voice was gravely and showing no signs of fear.

I pulled her down on top me to possess her mouth. “I have to go,” she breathed.

“No, Cattus. Stay with me a little longer,” I groaned.

“I can’t. It’s getting late and I have to check on…”

“Who?”

“My mom,” she said so quietly, turning away from me so I couldn’t see the guilt on her face. What she felt guilty about, I wasn’t exactly sure? Woman feel guilt far too easily from a thousand years of enslavement tattooed into their memory cells.

I knew everything about Cattus. Her invalid mom. Her boyfriend, my little brother. Her job. Her schooling. Her girl gang downstairs probably pent up and prepared to break their nails to fight a monster like me off her. I knew all about those girls and their boyfriends and had no qualms. They were no threat to me. I was too good at covering my tracks to worry about a bunch of angry college students seeking justice.

“Come see me tomorrow night,” I demanded, “and the night after that.”

She frowned. “What about your girlfriend?”

“What about her? Maybe I want to take you as my girl.”

“You mean you’d dump the senator’s daughter to date a busgirl at a burger joint?” her voice was sharp. She’s no fool. “I doubt that.”

She got me there. There was no way in hell I could dump Vic. It would ruin everything our two families had planned for us. However, it might be high time to have a conversation with her about our future. About our unborn children’s future.

“You’re so frustrating,” she snapped, finding her pants and pulling them on under the heat of my gaze.

“I have obligations to Vic and her family,” I told her.

“I’m not frustrated about that. We have no future. I’m not even thinking beyond tomorrow. I’m talking about the fact that you refuse to answer my question.” She stomped her foot crossly, showing a temper that lived up to her hair color. I enjoyed her little tantrum immensely.

“I’m thinking beyond tomorrow. I’m thinking I want to share more evenings with you.”

“There you go again,” she bit. “Avoiding answering my damn question.”

“Do you feel guilt?”

“Huh?”

“For letting your father’s killer fuck you.” It was a swift sharp comment that seemed to shake her.

She turned her back on me and stepped towards the door. “I have to go.”

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