Page 7 of Mine To Break
And she hadn’t even played with him yet. Not really.
Even more, he needed help. Help only she could give. Unfortunately, that meant he’d probably walk as soon as she’d helped him through his sexual issues, but she’d sure have a grand time helping him find as much satisfaction as he could stand. Because she had no doubts whatsoever that she could satisfy him over, and over, and over. If she’d dared touch him beneath the table tonight, he would have spurted all over the white linen tablecloth.
He whirled again and strode straight toward her, hands clenched, lips drawn back from his teeth in a vicious snarl. She didn’t move or react, holding her ground and willing him to settle down for her.
Breathing hard, he stood before her. “What is that crate for? Tell me, damn it.”
Gently, gently,she reminded herself. When she wanted to seize his lapels and drag him down to drink all that glorious fury from his lips. “That kennel is Pumpkin’s. He wouldn’t take too kindly to anyone else using it.”
His eyes blazed, his nostrils flaring as he shifted from outraged male ego to straight-up jealousy. “Who the fuck is Pumpkin?”
Tipping the bottle, she took several long swallows of hard cider, making him wait. Stewing a little would be good for him.
“Mal…” he growled warningly.
Which only made her purr. She stepped closer to him, ignoring the hard look in his eyes, the threat of his clenched hands. She leaned up like she wanted to whisper something into his ear, and he automatically leaned down toward her.Such a good boy, though she didn’t say that aloud for fear of riling him up again. “Pumpkin is Mama’s Pomeranian.”
