Fuuuuuck.
The impish look on her face is gone, and replacing it is an expression of innocent hunger.
She wants me.
I've fucked enough women to know when someone's faking it, and so I know what I'm seeing is real.
This eighteen-year-old girl can have any guy in the world, but instead she wants me, a man who's old enough to be her daddy.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Lust grips me by the balls, and I can only clench my fists against the urge to yank her close and finally feel her cute, pert breasts rub against my chest.
"Keep your damn promise," I force myself to say.
She swallows hard. "I w-will."
Thank fuck.
"For now."
My eyes widen.
Was that her way of saying she's tricked me?
"You—-"
"We should be hurrying inside," she says quickly, "or Uncle Nic might start asking questions." She spins away before I can say another word, and that's when I see her dress is completely bare at the back, which means...
No fucking bra.
The words pound in my head endlessly as I force myself to follow her inside.
No fucking bra, dammit!
Why the hell does she never wear a bra when I'm around?
I have to take a deep breath when I hear the voices of my friends.
Don't let the girl get to you, I warn myself.
You're twice her age, remember that.
So if there's anyone who should be calling the shots here, it's you. Not her!
A few more moments pass before I feel sufficiently back in control, and since I already know my way around Nic's apartment, it doesn't take much time before I'm joining everyone at the dining room.
Nicolaas and Stone are already there, and so is their secretary Ms. Cavendish, and of course...her.
The two guys welcome me warmly, and after a quick exchange of small talk, we settle into our seats, and I find myself seated next to Scarlett.
Tonight's dinner was supposed to be for us to discuss our next joint venture, and it's the reason Scarlett's presence actually took me by surprise. This isn't the first time I've talked shop over dinner with Nicolaas and Stone, but in all those times, Scarlett has never joined us.
It just goes to show how determined the brat is to make trouble—-
What the hell?
I nearly lose hold of my fork when I feel her soft, dainty foot rubbing over mine. This isn't my first fucking time to play footsie under the table, but the fact that it's Scarlett's foot right over mine makes a huge fucking difference.
My balls have started aching like they've never experienced an orgasm, and my big, hard dick is straining against my jeans like it's about to die if it doesn't get a taste of pussy in the next minute.
I shift in my seat, but this only makes things worse, with my cock now positioned at a stupid angle inside my jeans.
Scarlett glances at me. "Is everything alright?" Her tone is deceptively innocent while her eyes are the soul of mischief, and just like before, I'm tempted to turn her ass pink with a few hard spanks.
Damn her.
She knows everything is not fucking alright. But since her question has everyone on the table glancing at us, I can only force a smile and say pleasantly, "I was just wondering about your caterer."
Stone grins. "That good, huh?"
"This will probably come as a shock to you," Nicolaas says dryly, "but my niece is actually responsible for everything."
"Congratulations," I say politely to Scarlett, but this makes her laugh for some reason.
"When Uncle Nic says I'm responsible," she tells me, "he doesn't mean I'm the one who called the caterer or something. What he means is that I'm actually an exceptionally good cook, so anytime you need a helping hand in the kitchen, just let me know."
"I...see."
It takes every fucking bit of my self-control to keep my voice steady, with Scarlett placing said helping hand on my knee while I'm speaking.
FUCK!
Scarlett's hand moves up to my thigh, and the rest of the evening becomes an eternity of torture. When dinner finally comes to an end, I do my best to act naturally, but it's no fucking good.
I've done my best to delay things, tried hard to bide my time so that I can rise discreetly to my feet, but it's as if the Fates are against me, and all it takes is a second.
One fucking second for everyone to glance at me and realize I happen to be sporting the world's biggest boner behind my jeans, and then—-
"I'm so sorry, Uncle Slater," Scarlett cries out in a panic. "This is all my fault." Tears well up in her big, doe-like eyes as she turns to my friends. "I had his prescription mixed up at the office, and instead of vitamins he ended up taking...you know...and that's why...he...he...ended up with...that."
There's another second of silence, and then Ms. Cavendish is clearing her throat while my friends are coughing to hide their smirks.