Natalia
LADIES FIRST
DALTON
R ed truly is her color, blood staining nearly every inch of skin. My girl got her hands dirty, cleaning up my playroom.
My girl? The fuck? She’s not mine. She’s meat. End of story.
I crook my finger again impatiently, ready for this next test to begin. Let’s see how she likes a medium rare burger, if she’s capable of cooking one. I might have to marry her if she is. Oh no, if only I had someone to be my best man. I must’ve been too much for my adoptive parents to handle. They didn’t adopt another kid. Or maybe it was the dead dogs turning up in the neighborhood that sent fear curdling their stomach?
Natalia walks over slowly, eyes bouncing everywhere but on me. Oddly, I liked her earlier perusal, eyes drifting up and down my body. Did she like it? Cocking my head, I wonder, do I want her to? I know I liked my hands on her and her lips pressed to mine.
“How did I do?” There’s a slight waver in her voice, but her chin lifts, showing a hint of a backbone. My lips lift into a smile. I always liked fireworks.
“Fantastic. Let’s move this party upstairs. Task two is going to be delicious, if you play your cards right.” My head jerks toward the exit and she approaches cautiously, reminding me of a skittish rabbit. One wrong move and they’ll bolt. I don’t move out of her way, wanting her body to brush me on the way out. It’s almost comical, the way she leans nearly to the opposite side of the narrow doorway to avoid touching me.
I don’t give her a break, walking tight on her heels after locking the bottom door of the basement after us. Her neck swivels back and forth constantly, likely not wanting me out of sight for long. Aw, I’m touched.
My smile dips with my eyes. Round ass cheeks lift and fall with each step up the stairs, mesmerizing me, saliva pooling in my mouth. Why have I never noticed a woman’s ass before her?
Because they’re meat.
Meat. Meat. Meat. Meat.
I want to bite one of them. I wonder if it’s like a jelly filled donut, all creamy goodness inside. If I bite hard enough, will she gush for me? Fuck! Now, I’m thinking about other places she probably gushes from. Sonofabitch. She needs to die. Like yesterday.
“Hey!” My eyes snap from the roundest ass I’ve ever seen into exasperated brown eyes, a cute little flush staining her cheeks. I just know she tastes better than a burger, at least.
“Eyes up here, perv,” she snaps and I laugh, enjoying her spirit. Good. I hated the tears anyway.
“Oh, I know where your eyes are, little flower. Watch your step. If you’re too busy watching me, you’ll break an ankle.” Right on cue, she stumbles on the next step and I’m bouncing up two steps to wrap both arms around her, pulling her in tight to my body.
Holy fuck. She feels good. All soft curves and those plump cheeks I was admiring rest right against my cock.
“You can let me go,” she squeaks, body held stiff. I wonder if she feels Junior waking up. Shaking my head, I loosen my hold, letting her regain her balance, before I do something stupid, like ask to taste her where she gushes. She scurries up the next few steps without once looking back, leaving me behind to stare after her.
If I don’t kill her soon, I’m so fucked. Maybe I’ve been fucked since I tasted her mouth last week.
* * *
NATALIA
My body twitches, a live wire activated by the strange man’s nearness. Freshly showered, he smelled like amber and pine, no hint of the gore that coated him earlier. And his cock moved against my butt, spurring me to flee up the stairs.
I’ve read this book before. It belonged to Lauren and Sarah. Tremors travel to my fingertips and I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear his soft footsteps behind me.
“Skittish, are you, little lamb?” His voice slides over me like velvet over butter. I prefer him covered in blood, eyes wild with madness than the smiling, dimpled man striding toward me, dressed all in black. He leans against the door frame of the second door, a mocking tilt to his lips.
“I want a bath. And clothes.” My demand comes out only a little shaky, but I hold my ground, maintaining the two feet separating us. His head tilts in a considering manner, and I’m almost certain he’s going to refuse. Until his lips stretch wide. Whatever comes out of his mouth, I’m certain I won’t like.
“Under one condition, my sweet flower.” He holds up one finger, dimples deepening with his smile. “You let me watch you dress.” His arms cross over his chest, back resting against the door frame, ankles crossing. The picture of leisure.
Oh, I’ll make him eat his fucking “condition.” Two can play at being the devil. I saunter up to his leisurely lean, watching his pupils expand, until my toes brush the tips of his black loafers. Leaning up on my toes, lashes lowering, I smile when our faces are inches apart.
“My condition to your condition is that you can watch but not touch.” I let my lips barely graze his before lowering to my heels, gasping when a large hand lands on my hip, fingers denting the skin.
“Deal,” he growls, scraping his nails across my skin when he pulls his hand back. His other gestures at the stairs to our right.
“Ladies, first.” He smirks, mischief dancing his eyes. I’m not a violent person but him, I wouldn’t mind smothering in his sleep. Daydreaming of murder, I turn on a heel and march toward the stairs, feeling his eyes burning my skin. It would be a stroke of luck if he stumbled and snapped his ankle. A girl can dream.