She has tears in her eyes, but she’s not crying. Those are tears of anger.
I know the difference.
“Gonna behave now?” I ask.
She tips her chin up even higher. Looking down her nose at me. She’s got that haughty princess act down, that’s for sure. No one’s gonna knock her down a peg. Especially a guy like me.
That look says I’m not worthy of her anger. I’m not even worthy of her contempt.
And honestly, I don’t really give a fuck. She’s not my problem anymore. All I gotta do is take her inside, lock her up, and wait for her stepfather to show up with some asshole he hired to give his stepdaughter the attitude adjustment she so very badly needs.
“Good,” I say, taking her silence as submission. “Come with me.”
I hold her arm tight. Probably too tight. But she did try to run. Twice. So I’m not taking any chances. It’s four in the morning, I’ve been driving for hours, and I’m not in the mood to go chasing her across that wide-open lawn in the front of the house. She probably wouldn’t make it to the woods, but you never know with this girl.
Just thinking about hunting her down in those dark woods pisses me off and it hasn’t even happened.
Not gonna, either. Because I grip her so hard, she whimpers.
“You’re going to bruise me,” she protests as I drag her up the impressive front stairs to the mansion.
“You mean like you bruised my jaw?” I ask.
“You kidnapped me! What did you expect?”
I shake her a little and say, “Just be quiet,” as I punch in the security code for the house and swing the door open wide.
She resists, but I pull her through the door, then close it, and lock it up tight. “You know this house?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she growls.
“Good. Then you know the security system it has. Every window is locked. Every door is locked. If you break a window and try to get out, this system won’t call the police, Lyssa. It calls in a whole team of guys like me who will not simply spank your ass and demand respect. They will hunt you down, shoot you with tranquilizers, and then tie you up in your bedroom. So think very carefully before you make yet another bad decision in your life. Because it will get ugly.”
I shove her. Hard. Probably harder than I need to. But I want her to understand that I’m not fucking around. I need her to behave for just a few hours so I can collect my payment and get the fuck on my way. Forget I ever met this girl or her miserable stepfather.
I flick on the light and find her standing in the middle of the opulent foyer, her back to me.
And damn, I really did spank her hard. One ass cheek has a bright red handprint on it.
She takes a deep breath.
Lets it out.
But doesn’t turn around.
I take a moment to study her backside, that urge inside from earlier resurfacing. Because she is stunningly beautiful, even from this view.
Then I picture her pussy in the van, her legs spread open wide, her bouncing breasts, and begin to get hard again.
I need to take this fucking cup off. I can’t believe I drove three hours wearing that stupid thing.
But good thing you had it, Mason. Otherwise this night might’ve gone a little different. You might not be here right now. And as much as I hate to admit it, I took this job for a reason. A very urgent reason and I need that payment from her stepfather. I have big plans, all of which depend on seeing this through.
She looks over her shoulder at me. Frowning. Almost pouting.
“Not gonna work,” I say, shaking my head. “You can pout those plump lips all you want. Not gonna work on me.”
She huffs and turns to face me. Unashamed of her naked body. Maybe even quite proud of it. “I’m not pouting at you. In case you didn’t notice, I’m having a personal crisis right now. This isn’t about you.”
I toss the keys to the van on a nearby table. She can’t get out of the house, so there’s no reason to worry about the keys. “In case you didn’t already figure it out,” I say, “everything I do is about me, Lyssa. So I won’t be joining your pity party.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Good. You weren’t invited.”
“Go put some clothes on.”
“I don’t live here,” she snaps. “This might be my house, but I have no intention of ever living here. So there are no clothes. I guess you should have thought of that before you ripped my dress right off my body.”
I laugh. “You always go out clubbing wearing no panties and no bra, Lyssa? Is that the image you like to project?”