Page 34 of Peaches

“I don’t care how, I don’t care what it takes, you tell them my real name, because I’ll be damned if having to go by Kimberly isn’t making me slightly insane.”

My smile widens because if only she knew just how much her submission screams with that little request, she’d never have made it. And God, I like it. I crave it.I want to claim it, for my pleasure and personalself-gratificationonly, and never stop.

“Deal, Peaches. But only if you agree to drop the Brettly bullshit when what I really want you to call me, is Sir,” I joke.

Kinda.

Not really, I think to myself as my grin widens and the look, a mixture of shock and thrill on her face, makes my dick harden.

We’ll work on that one.

9

Grace

Sex!

Shoulder biting, back scratching, knee wobbling, toe curling, mind numbing, perfectly dirty and delicious in every way - sex!

That’s all that is on my mind when we enter Magnolia Cottage, both stop dead in our tracks, stunned, and drop our bags to the ground simultaneously, making a loud thud echo through the space.

“Well, this is awkward,” Romeo whispers next to me.

Yes, we’re back to that.Romeo.Because if I’m forced to live with him until further notice, it will be a whole lot better for my conscience if I think of him as something forbidden. Something I want so badly to have, but shouldn’t let myself touch, either. Much like his counterpart Juliet should have kept her thoughts and her hands to herself if she knew what was good for her and maybe she’d still be alive. A fact I’m drilling into my head at this very moment, attempting to drown out the little voice that struggles to scream louder than anything else, (because I really don’t want to die), but all I hear is the harlot in me as it comes roaring back to life through my ears and thunders the one thing I want out of Brett Beckett more than anything else is in the world is … Sex.

Well, maybe not anything else, but at this present moment - absofuckinglutely!

Turning quickly, I face the Don Juan in question and glare at him as if he totally planned this. And I wouldn’t put it past him if he did. His sudden acceptance earlier of us living here together still sits as a pretty big thorn in my side.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re sleeping on the fucking couch,” I hiss.

He makes no attempt to answer me as his eyes stay locked forward, his mind still trying to catch up, just like my own, to another twist it looks like neither of us saw coming.

Okay, I guess maybe he didn’t plan this.

My mouth goes dry as I turn back around and face my fears, the ones that scream dirty little secrets I want so badly to let myself indulge in while I tell my conscious to go fuck itself, while I inevitably fuck the man at my side. So, God, yes, please fuckinghelpme, I silently swear, as I feel myself let out a heavy sigh because I know I can’t let myself do that.

Heavy sighs should be reserved for…

Shut up, Brett!

Damn it, even when he’s quiet his voice still rings through my ears, mixing dangerously with that of my own dirty little subconscience.

Subbeing the operative word! Because I’m all for submission if he’s the one dominating. And if what he told me earlier really is true, then I’m all for learning new and exciting things as well. The name “Sir” absolutely added to my vocabulary, just don’t tell him that.

“Could be worse,” the present, and oh so real Brett at my side says as I bite my lip, furrow my brow, and take in what’s in front of us.

From what I was told on the way here, after Brett was kind enough to drive me home and let me pack a few bags, a.k.a. the ones now lying at our feet, this cottage had two bedrooms, one bathroom, a decent size study, and a large enough kitchen to make us feel right at home while also providing us the space we’d need for privacy.

The room before me shows no such sign of that ever being true. Then again, the last time Brett saw this place was pre-renovation.

A renovation that has taken what was supposed to be a multi-room private retreat into a large, open concept, more like studio cottage, with just one (get that! ONE!) enormous king size bed complete with four rustic bedposts, (God, cover your children’s ears and cue the kink in me), highlighted perfectly in the far back middle of the adorable space.

The bed is dressed up all in white with several large plush pillows and big, cozy, throw blankets on top of the white down comforter. Making it seem virginal. Un christened. Chaste. Something you’re not supposed to touch until you’re ready. And oh, that makes mesomuch more ready.

Looking around the space, a fireplace sits off to the left with a massive area to either sit on the couch, or one of the two fancy armchairs, while you enjoy a good book or watch…

My head bolts to the right. Then to the back two corners of the far room. I spin around to look behind me and quickly realize what I was already dreading.

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