Page 85 of Money Reigns

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I don’t let her finish.

I nudge her inside, shut the door and grab a cleansing wipe from the counter top.

“Lift your leg,” I say.

She blinks. “What—?”

I don’t repeat myself.

I just drop to a knee in front of her.

Her mouth opens, maybe to protest. Maybe to plead.

But she swallows it.

Good girl.

She lifts one leg, heel anchored on my shoulder, skirt sliding up automatically.

The lace is soaked.Ruined.

“You made a mess, Olivia,” I say, voice low, hands already sliding the fabric aside.

She gasps, just once, as I drag the wipe through her.

Slow. Precise.Thorough.

“Warren—”

“Shh.”

I clean her like it’s my right. Like it’s expected.

Because it is.

She let me take her apart, and now she’ll let me put her back together.

When I’m satisfied, I slide the panties back into place and smooth her skirt down.

Then I rise.

Toss the wipe and then turn back to her.

Her eyes are wide. Breath uneven.

Like she’s not sure whether to slap me or drop to her knees.

I tilt my head.

“You ready for lunch now?” I ask, my eyes dragging down her perfect form. “Or do you need another minute?”

***

She eats like she’s being hunted.

Fast. Small bites. Eyes down. Shoulders tight.

Like a baby deer caught by a predator.

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