Page 130 of Papa's Bébé
Groaning, she started pacing across the room, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand.
So stupid.
So dumb.
How was she going to face him again? Could she live in here forever?
“What do you think, Dicky?” She sat on the bed and grabbed her dolphin. Then she lay on her back with a groan, staring up at the ceiling.
Maybe she should run away.
Join the circus.
Change her identity. It was the only thing she could do.
She stared over at the door. What would she do if he walked in right now?
Part of her didn’t want to see him again. But a big part of her wished he’d walk in right now. Hoped that he would take her in his arms and kiss her.
What would it be like to go back out there and climb into his lap again?
To feel his hard body against hers.
To touch him all over, kiss every inch of his warm, smooth skin.
Another groan escaped her and she rolled onto her stomach. Her nipples were hard and her body was warm.
Getting up, she drew her curtains. She wasn’t ever going to forget to do that again.
A shudder ran through her at the memory of what Ryan had been doing in his car while watching her.
Sick bastard.
She stumbled into the bathroom. She’d already had a shower, but she took another one hoping it might relax her. Instead, she was hyper-sensitive so every touch of her hands against her skin just turned her on more.
It was infuriating.
By the time she finished her shower, her clit was throbbing and she knew she would struggle to sleep until she took care of this hunger.
Drying off, she grabbed Richard out of the bedside drawer and turned him on.
The buzzing made her jump. Shit. He sounded loud when he wasn’t, well, inside her.
There was no way Matthieu could hear her? Right?
No, he was out in the living room, watching television. And once she got under the covers with Richard inside her, the noise would surely be minimal.
Climbing into bed naked, she spread her legs and started to touch her clit with her finger. She moved carefully at first. Soft and slow. Closing her eyes, she imagined it was Matthieu touching her. That his hands were hard on her inner thighs as he lapped at her clit.
A small sigh of pleasure escaped her. Then a louder moan.
She paused, tense. But she didn’t hear anything. He wouldn’t have heard her.
She was safe.
Was she kidding him?
Matthieu lay on the narrow bed in the tiny bedroom and listened to her moans of pleasure through the too-thin walls.
