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“Good girl,” he purrs, sliding his palm around the front of my throat and collaring me with his huge hand. “I love it when you do as I say. I know you need a break, but I need you so bad, Little One. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to go. I won’t take your cunt, but I need to see those pouty little lips wrapped around my cock. I need to fuck your mouth and bathe your tongue with my cum.”
I don’t have time to do more than whimper when Tori and a huge, very attractive guy come barreling into the store.
“Oz?” the guy says, looking down at me and blinking in surprise.
“Hey bro,” Oz says, his tone easy, all of the raspy demand from only seconds ago gone.
“Tell him what you just told me,” Tori orders, her arms crossed across her chest as she glares at Oz.
“Etta, baby, this is Nero, he’s my teammate, second-in-command, and our neighbor. Nero, this is my wife, Etta,” Oz says, not releasing his hold on my throat, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the side of my neck, caressing the skin and making my pulse race.
“Wife?” Nero questions.
Oz opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Nero speaks again. “Wait, Etta?”
“My real name is Henrietta,” I say quietly. “It’s nice to meet you, Nero.”
“Henrietta!” Nero yells, his gaze going a little crazed as he looks between me and Oz. “Your stepsister?”
“She’s not my stepsister,” Oz says at the same time I say, “I’m not his stepsister.”
“Hold on,” Tori shouts. “You married your sister?”
“Enough!” Oz barks loudly, silencing everyone and startling the older lady who was just stepping into the store so much that she turns and rushes back out onto the street.
“Come upstairs, we can talk up there,” Nero suggests, turning Tori away and ushering her into the back of the store.
Leaning down, Oz presses a kiss to my cheek. “Come on.”
“Maybe I should.” Pointing toward the truck, I tip my head, hoping he’ll let me escape whatever this confrontation that’s brewing will be.
“No,” he snaps. “Upstairs, they’ll want to meet you properly once they get over the shock.”
“They’re your friends, it’s weird?—”
“You can walk, or I can carry you, your choice,” Oz growls, his eyes warning me not to test him.
Sighing, I tentatively follow in the direction Nero and Tori went. Nero is waiting by a door in the kitchen, and he smiles at me as he gestures for me to lead the way up the stairs. Through a door at the top, I step into a small, slightly shabby-looking apartment.
“Hi, I’m sorry,” Tori says the moment I inch through the door. “Can we try again? I’m Tori, you’re Etta.”
“Hi,” I say, feeling even more awkward now than I did before.
“Come in, please excuse the state of this place, we’ve been meaning to decorate in here, but getting the store up and running has taken all of our time.”
“How long have you owned the store?” I ask, trying to stay polite.
“I worked here for years, but I bought the business and the building a few months ago. Since then, I’ve been slowly changing it from a run-of-the-mill bakery into my version of a French patisserie. I thought it’d take a while to convert the cookie and muffin locals to embrace my fancy French cakes, but so far it’s going really well, and I can’t bake fast enough to keep the counter stocked.” Unlike downstairs, Tori’s expression is open, and she hasn’t stopped smiling.
“I’m not surprised, everything looks delicious,” I say, offering her a cautious smile. Truthfully, my experience with girls hasn’t been great. Even before my middle school friends decided to hate me, I’d always struggled to relate to most women. I’d assumed that as an adult, it’d be easier to navigate and understand grown-ups, but if the tattoo studio I worked in for the last three years is anything to go by, bitchy girls stay bitchy girls, no matter how old they get.
Tori isn’t giving me mean-girl vibes, but I’ve been wrong before.
“I’m sorry about how I reacted downstairs,” she says, sounding completely earnest.
“That’s okay,” I tell her softly.
“It’s not. What I should have said was congratulations. But honestly, Oz saying you were his wife when I had no idea he was even dating was a shock.”
