Page 24 of Inked Daddies

I laugh, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Wow, Marie. That’s a little forward, don’t you think?”

Her eyes go wide, and she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! That was rude—I didn’t mean to?—”

“Don’t bother me none. I like when a woman says what’s on her mind.”

“I was just…curious. And nosy. Sorry.”

I smirk, letting the moment hang in the air for a second longer before answering. Money is not up for discussion anytime soon with Marie. She doesn’t need to worry about that kind of thing. “Let’s just say I’m financially comfortable and leave it at that.”

Her lips part slightly, like she wants to ask more but doesn’t know how. I can see the interest in her eyes, though, and I can’t help but like that she wants to know more about me. It’s flattering to think she cares.

The thought of someone like her caring about someone like me…even I know that it’s wrong. I’m not enough of a monster to pretend otherwise. She deserves better. But more than that, she deserves someone who respects her enough to let her make her own choices.

And if she were to choose me and the guys…

“Well,” she says finally, her voice quiet. “The anatomy books are over here. Follow me.”

She leads me to the back corner of the library, her steps quick and a little unsteady, like she’s not paying attention to her footing, perhaps too distracted to do so. As I follow her through the narrow aisles, it’s impossible to pay much attention to anything at all. Her ample ass takes up all my vision under her thin sundress. They’re Marie’s usual uniform—she has a taste for the ones that swish when she walks, and I have a taste for watching her walk. This one is sky blue with white flowers. It would look perfect crumpled up on my floor, or lifted up over her ass as I take her from behind.

The closer we get to the shelves, the redder her face gets, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going through her mind. Is she still nervous? Is she thinking about Trick?

Stalking behind her, I feel like a cat chasing a mouse, cornering her until she reacts. What kind of reaction would Marie Durand give? Is she a moaner or a screamer? I like both, but I’m curious to know for certain. Would she just lie there? I don’t think so. I could ask Trick, but that would gall my sense of pride.

She’s quiet and shy and careful, and those types always give the best reactions. It’s as if they’ve pent up their energy to save it for something worthy.

What I wouldn’t give to see this woman orgasm.

When we reach the section, she stops abruptly and gestures to the books in front of her. “Here they are.”

She looks flustered, like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself now that she’s brought me here. Her fingers play with thehem of her skirt again, and I find myself watching the way they twist the fabric, nervous and delicate.

“Marie,” I say softly, and she looks up at me, her cheeks still pink.

“Yeah?”

I step closer, keeping my voice low. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she says, though her voice wavers slightly. Her eyes dart to my lips, like she wants me to kiss her.

Not yet. “What’s this I hear about you putting on a show for Trick last night?”

Her eyes widen, and her face goes from pink to full-on crimson in the span of a blink. She stumbles over her words, her hands fluttering like she doesn’t know what to do with them. “I—what—he?—”

It’s adorable, honestly. “Breathe.”

Petulantly, she says, “Iambreathing.”

Feisty when confronted. All the better. “Trick told me you knew he was there. You knew, and it didn’t stop you. If anything, his presence encouraged you.”

Her mouth opens and closes, and she finally settles on crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes darting away from mine. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I wasn’t trying to?—”

“But you did,” I say, stepping even closer. I can feel her body heat at this range. The night she was attacked, I relished holding her close to me. Feeling her soft, warm ass pressed against me was almost enough to wake the beast, but her fear—her very real fear—was not an aphrodisiac. I love a good bedroom game asmuch as the next man, but when a woman is in peril, it’s not the time to make a move.

Now is.

She looks up at me again, her eyes wide and full of something I can’t quite name. Fear, maybe. Or excitement. Or both. She breathes the words “I did.”

“Was that only for Trick?”

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