“I’m not allowed to be in a room alone with a man. People would get the wrong idea. My virtue.” I threw up a little in my mouth. My virtue hadn’t existed for a long ass time.
“It’s ok, I promise. Don’t embarrass me,” he insisted, and I cocked my head.
“Embarrass you?” I looked at him in confusion.
He stepped towards me and nodded his head slowly.
“One minute. I promise I only want to talk. I won’t do anything else. Just don’t run out of here and embarrass me. You don’t want to get on my bad side.”
My hand danced around for the doorknob, and he frowned.
“I feel uncomfortable,” I breathed. “I don’t want to talk to you. They need me in the kitchen. They’ll be looking for me.”
He considered this for a second before lunging forward and wrapping his large hand around mine and clamping down on it. Cutting off my ability to open the door and leave. His bulk pressed against me. He had a nice, spicy cologne on. It was a jarring juxtaposition, to scent something attractive and yet press against the bulk of someone you didn’t want.
“Don’t do that. I promise I just want to ask you a few questions. I won’t touch you. I promise.”
I snorted, unable to keep it together. He promised? This guy was predictable as anything. They allpromisednever to do anything until they did. What if I was another girl? They would have been terrified in my position. I wasn’t scared, though. I had the means to incapacitate any man, especially ones like Paul, who were led by their cocks.
“I said no,” I repeated, lifting my chin, and glaring at him. Giving him one more chance. He shuffled forward, and the press of something hard against my hip made me want to roll my eyes. Of course, because this wasn’t bad enough. Didn’t take him long to break that promise.
“Don’t you know who I am? I’m Paul Wicker,” he breathed. His face held a look of pity. “People don’t say no to me.” My eyes rolled involuntarily.
“You’re married. This is wrong,” I tried again, patience snapping.
“You’re so pretty,” he tried a different tack. “There is something in you, I can tell. Your eyes aren’t innocent.”
He wasn’t wrong, but he was barking up the wrong tree. I’d had enough of this conversation. Paul thought he was sitting on the top of the food chain, but he’d pinned the wrong girl to the wall.
I wasn’t innocent, that was true, and he was about to find out.
“I’ll sit and talk for one minute,” I promised, and batted my eyelashes like I was giving in. He almost melted with excitement. He released my hand and gave me barely enough room to move past him. I sent a surge of lust to him, almost the bulk of what I’d collected so far, and watched as it hit him, hard. He grunted, falling to his knees. The thing with lust was that I only needed a small amount. There was no need to rely on it fully. I preferred to coax it out with my skills. What I’d given Paul? It wasn’t a pleasurable amount of lust. It was an amount large enough that it was surging through his bloodstream, hardening his cock until it was painful. Paul whined, looking at me in horror. I smiled at the wet patch that formed through his pants a moment later. The lust had barreled through him so hard that he’d come in his pants.
The orgasm wouldn’t have been fulfilling. It would have cut short and left him wanting more. A punishment he deserved for thinking he could bail me up and get away with it. Not bothering to stay for how he dealt with the mess, I ducked out the door and hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Christabel's horrified gaze met mine, her eyes wide in horror. As I rounded the bench, I caught sight of her fingers shaking slightly and her gaze sweeping over me, confirming I was all in one piece. She knew who was behind that door and hadn’t wanted to be caught standing in front of it. I could see the remorse pouring off her for leaving me, but the terror was worse. Paul had done something to her. It made my stomach revolt. His own sister? He was a monster, if that was the case.
“He didn’t hurt me, if you were wondering,” I murmured, looking about the room. She shuddered, leaning her hands on the bench. Suddenly, one of them shot out and squeezed mine. Her gaze caught mine, her eyebrows jammed together.
Sorry. She seemed to say.I’m sorry.
I shrugged, wanting to assuage her guilt but unsure of what I could say in a crowded room.
“Allera!” Margie called. “Can you help serve up the potatoes?”
Whatever I wanted to say to Christabel would have to wait.
Chapter 3
Iwasravenousbythe time lunch arrived and my feet were aching from rushing around the kitchen. I tucked my hair behind my ears, trying to neaten the flyways. Trent was sitting across from me between Kellen and Tate, listening to the latter with a decisive nod. He looked relaxed, like he’d spent the last hour talking and unwinding. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes, focusing on siphoning up the tiny trickles of lust that I could sense. I could feel Paul’s gaze boring into the side of my head.
Luckily, he was sitting five seats down, next to his wife, who was a sweet faced brunette with a riot of freckles. He was being rude, staring at me so openly, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on anyone calling him out. I would bet money that I wasn’t the first girl he’d pinned to a door, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. My heart ached for Christabel though, who was sitting next to me. She squirmed under the heat of Paul’s focus, even though it wasn’t directly turned towards her.
“Let’s give praise to the Lord for this bountiful meal,” John Wicker called out, and thanks murmured out across the table. What, no thanks for the woman who just slaved away to put it together for you? I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t wait to get out of this sexist shitshow.
“You want one of these?” I brandished a basket of rolls to Christabel who looked up at me with surprise. She took one with a quick nod and dropped her head again.
“I told you, she doesn’t talk,” Kellen interrupted across the table, frowning at me. I screwed up my face, tearing open a roll and slathering it with butter.