“Hey, babe.” Brad loops an arm around my waist and presses a quick kiss to my lips. He leers down at my cleavage. “The things I’m going to do to you later.”
“Brad!” I playfully smack him. Just a day ago, him saying that in front of his friends would have me blushing and dying a little bit inside. Now, the sentence feels clumsy and silly. How can it be anything else when I have his father’s voice in the back of my mind?
Tight little cunt made just for me. Now that you’ve had a man, Neveah, you’ll never go back to fucking boys again. Now be a good slut and cum all over this cock again.
I shiver, and Brad’s grin widens. “We’re going to play some video games. You want in?”
“Video games?” I lift my brows. “Brad, we’re at a beach house. You play video games all the time at home.”
“Air conditioning feels too good to be outside.” He shrugged and released me. “Want a beer?”
I bite back a sigh, resigning myself to hours of boredom. I like video games, but he and his frat brothers are so damn competitive, it takes the fun right out of it. After Brad yelled at me once for my death-kill ratio on Call of Duty, I always find an excuse not to play. “Maybe later.”
“Cool.” His attention is already straying to where Chad and Paeton have set up the Xbox. He and Braedon round the kitchen island, ribbing each other as they drop onto the couch, already bickering about who’s playing first.
That’s when Mr. Jones comes into the kitchen.
I suck in a harsh breath. He’s changed out of his lounge pants and into a pair of blue shorts…and nothing else. I drink in the sight of his broad chest, my body pinging with the memory of touching him. Of him touching me.
“Hey, Dad.” Brad barely looks over. “Done with work already?”
“Took the day off.” He moves to the fridge with only the barest glance at me and pulls out two beers. “What are you boys up to?”
“Pretty obvious.” Brad laughs and nudges Braedon. “Use your eyes, old man.” Paeton clicks a button, and the loud sounds of the start screen fill the room. The boys keep arguing over who’s going first, finally landing on Brad and Paeton.
Mr. Jones pops the caps off both beer bottles and comes to stand next to me at the kitchen island. “How’s your day going, Neveah?” The words are correct, but the tone is a little too deep, filled with a little too much insinuation.
“Good.” I turn around and lean back against the counter. It’s tall enough to hit me in the small of the back, which is just as well because my legs suddenly feel a little weak.
“Beer?”
I nod slowly. “Sure. Thanks, Mr. Jones.”
He hands it over, his arm brushing my left breast as he does. And then he doesn’t take his hand back. He presses it to my stomach as he seems to turn his attention to the video game, its faux gunshots already making my head hurt. I take a quick sip of beer and hold perfectly still. He shouldn’t be touching me even this little bit, not when we’re in the same room as Brad.
Sure, they seem entirely encompassed in their game, and one time I literally walked through the room in my underwear, and not a single one of them noticed, but…
“Did you follow my command, little girl?” His question is so low, it’s almost lost in the louder sounds of the room.
Holy shit. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Let’s see about that.” His hand drops to my knee and rises, his fingers dragging along the inside of my thigh. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but spread my legs a little to give him better access. I stare at the oven in front of me without seeing it as he cups my bare pussy. Mr. Jones doesn’t react at all. When I glance at him, he seems entirely enthralled in the boys’ game. “Your phone,” he murmurs.
I pick it up and look down as if scrolling through social media. Instead, all I can see is his muscular forearm disappearing beneath my white dress. All I can feel is his fingers gently sawing through my folds, creating just enough friction to have me fighting not to pant, but not enough to finish me off.
I shouldn’t want him to finish me off. Bad enough that he’s playing with my clit while my boyfriend is like ten feet away. Orgasming? I don’t know if I could stay quiet.
“We’re going to get caught.” The words are barely more than a whisper. Even as I speak, I pull up my camera app and switch to video. I don’t look at Mr. Jones as I set my beer down and use my free hand to pull my dress up just enough to see exactly what he’s doing to me. His fingers are soaked with my desire, and he must realize what I’m doing because he spreads my folds and then pushes two fingers into me, fucking me slowly. In the background, Brad whoops and yells something about a headshot. There is no pretending the hand currently playing with my pussy is not my boyfriend’s. I whimper a little. “Mr. Jones.”