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“Well,” he finally said, looking thoughtful. “Are you my slave?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes.”
He arched a brow in that regal look she loved. Regal with a hint of hoodlum. Or maybe it was the other way around. “Yes what?”
She couldn’t keep back a grin. “Yes, Master.”
“Good.” Without warning, he jumped up from the couch with her in his arms. Ignoring her yelp, he strode toward the stairwell. “Then I demand sex, slave.”
“Hmph.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “You should ask nicely.”
He barked a laugh. “Still a brat, I see.”
“Quite a contradiction,” she teased. “A brat and a slave. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
At the bottom of the stairs, he set her on her feet then gazed down at her.
“My bratty slave is perfect for me.” Then he spun her toward the first step and smacked her ass. “Upstairs, girl. My cock missed you almost as much as the rest of me did.”
She walked up the stairs with deliberate slowness, hips swaying, throwing sulky looks over her shoulder.
“Mercy,” he drawled appreciatively, ogling her ass.
He grabbed hold of the track pants she was wearing and gave them a yank, and they puddled at her feet on the landing. The T-shirt she’d borrowed barely covered her bottom, and she widened her eyes at him and bit the tip of one finger.
“You’re such a hot little piece of ass, Everly mine.” He crowded her against the wall and slid his hand up the back of her thigh, picking up the edge of the shirt and holding her in place so he could admire her. “Now give me that look again.”
She complied, but this time she was less cocky and more shy.
At this rate they weren’t going to make it all the way to the bedroom.
Everly giggled then bolted up the stairs, and he growled and swatted her ass before she got completely out of range.
She ran to the master suite and ducked around the corner, then slipped into the closet.
Ambrose’s footsteps sounded in the hall, and she had to cover her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her snickering. She crouched down, peeking through the crack in the door, breathing hard.
Oh fuck. She was in so much trouble.
The very idea of how annoyed he probably was turned her on. She shook her head at herself. Sick puppy.
He walked into the room and stripped off his shirt. Good Lord, he’d been working out more? Like he needed to. He was fucking huge! She licked her lips and let her gaze follow the muscles that defined his arms and chest, the sexy vee that pointed into his jeans—like she needed directions to his dick? He was hard as hell, too, the outline of his cock obvious, the tip poking above the waistband of his jeans. Maybe if she crawled out to him and sucked his cock, he’d forgive her instinctual bratty behavior.
“Come out here, bad girl. Do you really want to be in trouble the first night we’re back together?”
Silently, she nodded, grinning like a lunatic.
“I know where you are.”
A thrill of fear and exhilaration zinged through her. He was bluffing. He couldn’t know.
Ambrose sat on the edge of the bed and looked directly at the closet door. She crept backward, but didn’t stop watching. He unzipped his jeans, and freed his dick. He leaned back on one elbow and wrapped his hand around his cock, and started to stroke himself. Oh God, it was her own personal porn reel. The fact that she was hiding in the closet watching made it seem so much more perverted.
Soundlessly, she whimpered. She pressed a hand between her legs, trying to resist the temptation of letting him win.
“Come here, little slave. Let me give you what you want.”
He was staring right at her. There was no way he couldn’t see her, the way his gaze locked onto hers. Unable to stop herself, she nudged the door open with her fingertips, then watched the play of his hand stroking up and down his monster cock, while she fingered her clit.
