Page 122 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

He unfurled his arms, pushed me back and tipped my chin to look up at him.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” And that would be my deathbed claim.

In fact…

I slapped his arm away. “Get off me.”

My freedom lasted less than a second before Gio curled his arm back around me.

“What are you going to do about it?”

That was a valid question. He’d proven his strength, so clearly I couldn’t fight him off. And he didn’t exactly care about what I wanted. Actually it was the opposite. If I didn’t like it then I was pretty sure he would do it. There was only one option left.

“I… need to pee.”

Excuses I was good at. Plus it wasn’t a total lie. I really did need to pee.

“So pee.”

“What?”

He didn’t mean right here, did he? Was that a thing? Did people really get off on that? I wasn’t one to kink shame but I didn’t see the enjoyment in that. Then again I didn’t see the enjoyment from sleeping with your dick in a girl so…

“I’m just kidding.” Gio kissed my cheek and nodded at the open door on the far side of the room. “Go pee.”

Hold up, something wasn’t right here. Since when does Gio joke? I didn’t trust it, but I wasn’t going to argue either. The instant he took his hand off me, I jumped up and bolted for the bathroom.

That was when I realized that there were undiscovered muscles up high on the inside of my thighs, and they were very angry with me. No, angry wasn’t right. They down right hated me.

Ever see someone do a bowlegged walk when they had to pee? It wasn’t pretty. On the upside, there was nothing remotely sexy about the way I waddled into the bathroom. So, there was no risk of turning Gio on again.

When I sat down to relieve myself, the ache in my thighs was overwhelmed by the burn that rolled through my vagina. Could skin catch on fire, because I think that would hurt less? I suddenly understood what Memphis meant when he used the word raw in relation to sex.

A word that Gio apparently needed to learn the definition of, was privacy. I was still sitting on the toilet when he sauntered in as if he owned the place. Which he kind of did, but still.

“Seriously.” I shrieked while quickly covering my chest.

He arched a brow at my folded arms. “I had my finger in your ass last night, I think we’re past modesty.”

Oh crap, I forgot about that. To be fair, I was probably half conscious at that point. Not that that fact made me feel any better about the situation.

“Can you leave?”

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Why would I do that?”

“So, you’re just going to watch me pee?”

“Why not?”

“Um… because it’s weird.”

And degrading. Maybe that was the point? Huh? Was that his game? Alright. If he wanted to watch me pee, then he could watch me pee.

I sat up straight – while keeping my arms over my breasts – held my head up high and emptied the rest of my bladder. He was not going to degrade me.

It would’ve been nice if he would’ve turned around so I didn’t have to fight so hard not to grimace. That and I wouldn’t have to see his dick. It was hanging there like a sleeping weapon of mass destruction. Weren’t they supposed to get smaller when they weren’t hard, because he didn’t look smaller?

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