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“Before we get started, a little housekeeping,” I announce, annoyed to be taking any time away from what I came here to do, what’s currently claiming all my attention, and what upsets me to think I have to waste time with anything else.

Moving back to the entrance of this colossal home, I swear I can smell the fear Jenson’s body is emitting. It smells like cold sweat and piss. Good. He fucking deserves it.

“All right,” I say, standing over him and his wife. “Listen up and listen good.” Kneeling down I put my face right in Jenson’s. “You try anything and I swear I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about trying to scoot around inside here to some emergency panic button you might have set up. Cops come I’m screwed so I’ll screw you in the process. I’m not afraid to go back to jail, especially not for ending you.”

“Wait. Where…where do I know you from?” Jenson asks, his expression pinching.

“Youdon’t…just like I never knew you, even when I thought I did you fuckin’ prick.”

Standing to go, Jenson throws a Hail Mary. “Wait! If this is about a business deal gone wrong we can rectify it. There’s always a solution,” he says, his voice amplifying as I put more space in between us as he struggles to say anything that will get my attention, that will stop what he knows is about to happen.

“The solution is taking something very near and dear to you. And wrecking it.”

“No!” he cries out, as I turn the corner, moving back into the space where she is lying on the couch. But now she’s gone.

For the first time, a part of my plan has gone off the hinges. What was I thinking leaving her alone? I got so ahead of myself that I didn’t account for the fact that this smart as a whip, young and resourceful angel, might just take flight and fly this joint.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.”

She wants to make this a game. I’ll show her a game.

“The entire house is surrounded by convicts just waiting on me to step outside,” I fabricate. “So if you try anything, you’ll be filled with bullets so fast you’ll look like Swiss cheese.”

Just when I go and think all wealthy people are pussies she surprises me, lunging at me from behind a sculpture with a knife, albeit a butter knife.

Sidestepping her easily, I grab her forearm and squeeze, causing her to drop her weapon. “Feisty one, aren’t we?”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” she cries.

“Oh, I’m going to have my way all right. I’m going to have…everything,” I add, my eyes raking over her body.

I throw her over my shoulder again, but this time I carry her up the marble staircase. “Which one of these is yours.”

“No,” she protests, pounding her fists into my back, not willing to divulge which room she sleeps in.

Screw it then. I take her to the first one.

The door’s slightly ajar already so when I put the sole of my boot into the door it flies open easily. Stepping inside I move through the immaculate space that looks like no one has so much as set foot in here for years, let alone stepped foot in it.

Tossing her on the bed, I open the window, the crisp fall air just what I need to keep me from passing out from my rising body temperature, thanks to her.

Reaching behind me I unzip this damn skeleton bodysuit, pulling it past my torso, watching her eyes skate over my muscles as I peel it off from my legs.

Discarding my boots, I step out of the tight thing and then move back to the door, opening it so far that it’s flush with the wall and then I drop my Halloween costume onto the floor, making sure the door stays open as wide as possible. No way can I resist her parents hearing what’s about to come next.

“What are you doing?” she says loudly, her voice laced with fear as she slides up onto her forearms and scurries toward the top of the bed.

“You know exactly what I’m here to do. You,” I announce, grabbing her ankle and pulling her toward me.

She fights for a second but then suddenly the fight in her starts to dissipate until it’s completely non-existent.

I almost want her to struggle more, want her to fight, but for clearly the first time in her life she’s got the hands of a real man on her, and she can’t do anything other than submit.

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you not to do this?”

“You can beg,” I tell her, grabbing the bottom of her catsuit by her ankle and ripping it straight up her leg, the sound of the fabric tearing causing her to jump. “But that would only turn me on even more.”

I kiss the top of her foot, damn near worshiping her perfection before my lips pepper their way up her leg, over her sensitive kneecap, and onto her thigh.


Tags: Lena Little Erotic