12. Levi
LEVI
I rub my fingers across my lips, taking in the sweet little morsel my father has brought to the hotel.
I think he’s made a mistake, but I can understand why he brought her here. My fingers itch with the need to plunge my hands into her red hair and pull it tight. I imagine the widening of her eyes as she realizes I’m not touching her with any kind of tenderness.
Oh, Little Fox. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.
My father seems to think no one is going to be looking for her, that, should she never be heard from again by the rest of society, no one is going to notice. But now I’m curious. How is it possible for a beauty like her to have no one?
We will be snowed in within a matter of weeks, and we needed something—someone—here to keep us sane. She will be an excellent distraction. But then what happens when the snow melts and the roads are passable again? Would we let her leave after she’s experienced what happens here?
Her pale blue—almost a shade of gray—eyes glisten with unshed tears, but I can tell I’ve gotten to her, sexually.
I’d swear I can smell her pussy on the air, and I’m sure if I slipped my hand under the waistband of her sweatpants, I’d find her wet and ripe.
She hadn’t put a bra on before she came down to the kitchen, and her nipples have hardened beneath her thin tank top.
I want to cover one with my mouth, sucking her hardened nipple through the material.
I picture myself closing my teeth around her flesh and hearing her cry out.
I don’t, though. Saying a few things to her is one thing, but physically assaulting her is another.
If I didn’t have to worry about my dad’s reaction, I probably wouldn’t have stopped—I’d have just taken what I wanted—but I know he has bigger plans.
“No,” she snaps. “I don’t like to play games. Now step the fuck away from me.”
I smile and move back.
She looks like she’s going to bolt, but then she glares at me and picks her coffee back up.
“Actually,” she says, “I need the sugar.”
“Right over here.”
I take down the cannister for her.
So, she’s not running, and she’s not crying either. Interesting. She’s trembling, though, and I like that.
I watch her ass move beneath her sweatpants as she adds sugar to her beverage then goes to the refrigerator in search of creamer. She finishes making her coffee and picks her mug back up. She lifts it up to me, as though in a toast.
“Later,” she says and slips from the room, taking her coffee with her.
She was trying to be brave, to show me I hadn’t gotten to her, but I hadn’t missed the tremor in her voice.
I watch her go and ball my fists at my sides to prevent myself from lunging for her.
In my head, I see myself grabbing a fist of that long, red hair and yanking it back, so her neck bends and her chin lifts.
I want her to stare at me with fear and lust in her eyes.
Little Fox.
Do you like to be hunted?
My dad isn’t going to be happy if she goes running to him to complain about me.
Oh, he won’t be surprised in the slightest, but he’ll say I’ve already pushed her too far.
I think he isn’t giving her enough credit, though.
There’s a fire inside her, one that matches her hair color, and I have to admit I’m interested.
I’m all worked up now, my cock painfully hard.
It had taken all of my self-control to stop myself from sliding my hand into her panties and penetrating her.
But now I need a release, and since I can’t have the girl yet, I need to head outside.
Work off some of this frustrated sexual energy with some exercise.
Shame I don’t have a little fox to chase.