Page 71 of Off-Limits
“Mmm, don’t you look good enough to eat.”
I lean into him with a smile; but catch myself and move away. His hand tightens on my waist, and he pulls me back into him, inhaling and running his nose along the column of my neck.
“Tsk, tsk. Are you being a brat again?”
“I’m trying to paint, Uncle Damon.”
“Blossom.”
“Tin Man.”
Damon chuckles, then licks up the side of my face, causing goosebumps to rise over my flesh. I want to say something smart to him, but the more he licks and kisses my face, the more I forget my damn words.
“Cat got your tongue, Blossom?”
“Asshole.”
Palming my tit, Damon pulls on the nipple ring, and I bite back the moan bubbling up my throat. He’s barely touched me, but I can feel how wet I am by the saturated thong I’m wearing.
As if hearing my thoughts, the hand that was around my waist moves to palm my ass before slapping it.
“What the fuck?” I hiss, and I feel Damon smirk against my cheek.
“Did I say you could keep these on?”
“Well, you didn’t tell me that I couldn’t.”
“Such a sassy little mouth. Maybe I should fuck it so you can’t speak. Would you like that, Blossom?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, gripping the paintbrush in my hand and thinking of how to respond, but when he palms my ass again, I release the moan I didn’t realise I was holding back.
“Such a needy, pretty girl. I bet your thong is dripping.”
“Why don’t you check for yourself,” I say, brazenly, and Damon’s hand moves from my ass to rest on my hipbone.
And then I have a stupid fucking idea, one that will probably get me punished.
So just as his hand skims the top of my thong, I whirl around slash the paintbrush down his cheek, coating it in fire-engine-red while I take a few steps away. Damon looks at me. The line of paint that cuts through his eye and cheek makes him seem more dangerous than he is.
Then he smirks, his brow lifting the red paint, and he looks downright sinister.
“Oh shit,” I whisper.
“Oh shit, indeed.”
He closes this distance between us, and his hand tangles inmy hair, causing me to gasp. Damon bites down on his lip, and I start panting like a dog in fucking heat.
How he does this to me I will never know, but he makes me forget why I shouldn’t be standing here, half-naked with a man more than twenty years older than me.
Damon’s smirk deepens and then he’s stepping away from me. My chest rises and falls quickly, and I look at him confused, wondering what kind of game we are playing. Crossing his arms over his chest, I see the evil plan he’s hatching in his dark blue eyes.
“Get upstairs.”
“Ex-excuse me?”
“You heard me, Dorothy, don’t make me ask you again.”
The use of my full name sends a wave of disappointment through me that I can’t describe or understand, slicing through the lust and playfulness I was feeling moments ago.
