“Please what?” he mouths, grabbing my right breast.
“Please fuck me,” I gasp.
Chris sits down beside me, his ripped abs rippling with the moonlight bleeding in through my window. I watch his strong hand glide between my breasts, and I hold my breath as he teases his finger straight down the middle of my stomach.
“You’re too good for me,” he purrs, circling my navel.
“Oh God,” I moan as his hand drops lower. His long, soft finger traces over my clit. My back arches underneath him, every cell inside me crying out for sweet release. “Fuck me. Please.”
“Not yet,” he teases, withdrawing his finger. “All good things come to those who wait.”
So much agony courses through my veins as he stands and heads to his wardrobe. His rippling shoulder muscles look slick with sweat as he reaches inside and pulls out…
My shock gets stuck in my throat as Chris returns to the bed brandishing the biggest dildo I’ve ever seen. Staring up into those dark, dangerous eyes, I part my lips and he glides the rubber across my tongue.
“You think you can handle this?” Chris asks.
The desperate, primal need inside me overpowers the fear and I nod. “Y-yes.”
Lowering one hand to the bed beside me, I stare into his eyes as he rakes the rubber down my stomach.
“Open up,” he whispers, parting my labia with the bulbous tip.
Locked in an unblinking stare, my mouth falls open and I scream in ecstasy as he drives into me.
“You okay?” he asks, but I can’t reply. I’m paralyzed in bliss as he shakes my shoulder. “Hey, Harper. Are you okay?”
My eyes burst open.
I take a moment to get my bearings.
It’s light outside.
“Hey.” I lift my head to find Chris Collins grinning down at me. “Some dream you were having, kiddo.”
My cheeks flush with heat as my gaze falls down to my hand on his crotch.
“If you’re trying to feel me up, I think your hand goesinside my jeans.”
Half of me is still trapped inside the sweet relief of that dream. “Did we… I mean…” I look back up into his hazel eyes. “Did we have sex?”
Chris closes the book he’s reading. “No, but we might have to if you don’t move your hand.”
“Crap!” I snatch my arm away and sit up next to him. “So we definitely didn’t?”
“Nope. What were you dreaming about? Thought I heard my name.”
Oh. My. God.
“Get over yourself,” I mumble, pointing at the swell in his jeans. “Maybeyou were dreaming aboutme?”
Chris chuckles. “That’s called morning wood, sweetheart. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Whatever. We’re not on a nickname basis. You’re just some guy who broke into my house and won’t leave. You’re a…squatter! Stop laughing!”
Chris inches closer, but I still can’t shake that damn dream. He could probably go grab those handcuffs now and I wouldn’t even resist. I watch his hand grab the sheet as he pulls it off me. My crumpled sundress is riding up my thighs, his eyes burning into my legs.
“W-what are you doing?” I stammer.
“What’s wrong, kiddo? Not as adventurous as you were last night?”
With his face just inches from mine, Chris reaches behind to my bedside table and grabs his lighter. Striking it, he lowers the flame six inches from my bare thigh. The raw heat warms my skin and my heart races.
“That’s the thing with fire, kiddo. Play with it…and it burns you every time.” Images of a huge dildo cloud my vision, and I jump from my bed. “Leaving so soon?”
“Yes!” I state, way too loud. “I’m going for a cock…” I freeze. “A walk! Thanks for watching me sleep.”
I stub my toe on the bed and limp to the door.
“Bye!” I shout.
After a brisk walk around the neighborhood, I hid behind a tree at the end of my street and waited for Chris to leave. Once he was gone, I headed back home and took a much-needed cold shower.
“This ismy house!” I hiss, wrapping the bath towel around me. “He should be the one hiding behind trees!”
Frowning at the image that creates, I push open my bathroom door.
“Or maybe he should just leave, and no one should hide behind trees.” Grabbing my sundress from my bed, I head downstairs to do some laundry. “I’m twenty-two years old. I don’t need stupid curfews in my own house. Who does he think he is?”
Switching on the washing machine, I notice the sleeve of a man’s shirt hanging out of the dryer.
“Wow!
I’m the ‘kid,’ but the big, dangerous adult man-child can’t even hang up his own clothes. Double standards much?”
Grabbing his shirt, I pull it from the dryer and stare at the label. “Of course it’s Versace. Chris Collins has more money than sense.”
Thoughts of that damn dream race back into my mind and a shudder chases through my stomach.
“Screw it!” I pull off my bath towel and throw it into the basket. Standing here naked and flustered, I slide my arms into the white shirt and pull it across my chest.
The cuffs are at least eight inches past my hands. Giggling as I flap them around, I look like one of those inflatable tube men outside the car dealership in town.
I roll up the sleeves and button it to the neck before climbing up on the washing machine to grab the dryer sheets. Extending my arm, I can’t reach them, and my knee slips. I try to keep my balance, but I can’t.
Fuck!
Panic sets in and time slows as I topple backward. I lift my hands to protect my head and…
I stop falling.
Opening my eyes, I don’t understand what’s happening until I spot two hands pinned to my hips. A second later, I’m spun half a circle before my ass is propped on the washing machine.
“Nice trip?” Chris Collins steps back and grins at me. “This is becoming quite the habit, Harper. That’sthree times I’ve saved your ass now. It’s almost as if you couldn’t survive without me, huh?”
Why does he have to be so damn handsome?
I fold my arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you hit your head? I live here, remember?”
“You don’tlive here!”
He snickers. “I think you’ll find I do. Just arranged to have my mail delivered here.” My eyes grow wide and he lifts a hand. “I’m joking, kiddo. Your dad can’t come home fast enough, as far as I’m concerned. Then I’ll never have to listen to your whining ever again.”
Ouch.
“You’ll miss me more than I’ll miss you!”
He winks. “Keep telling yourself that, kiddo. Nice shirt. I have one just like that.”
“Oh,” I murmur.
I lower my eyes to the silver buttons.
It’s lucky it fits me like a dress because I’m naked underneath this.
“Maybe you should clean up after yourself,” I say. “Then I wouldn’t be wearing your clothes.”
“If that’s a house rule…” Chris glances down at my pile of dirty laundry. “Not sure any of your stuff will fit me.” He locks those dark eyes on me. “Wearing my shirt is the oldest trick in the book, kiddo.”
“Whattrick?” I snap.
Chris strides closer to me, and I gasp when he comes to a standstill between my open legs. Sitting on the washing machine, I’m eye level with him for the first time.
His coffee irises hide so much pain and his pupils are haloed by a jagged yellow sun.
Thoughts of last night’s dream flooding my mind, I lower my gaze to his lips as he says, “I can see your heart beating.”
I smirk. “That’ll be because I’m alive. Us non-android robots have hearts where your swinging brick lives. And don’t change the subject. Why did you say wearing your shirt is sometrick?”
“We don’t have to do this,” he says.
“Because you don’t know what you’re talking about, do you? It’s probably your old-man brain, grandpa. I don’t playtricks on people.”
Sighing heavily, Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out a square sheet of paper.
“Aww, bless,” I tease. “Mr. Invisible had to make notes.”
“Operation Seduction,” he reads, and my mouth runs dry. “Seduce Chris until he confesses his feelings and my dad makes him leave. Step one, melt the silver fox’s ice-cold heart.
The Notebook movie should work. Me, Chris, and Ryan Gosling all snuggled up on the sofa. Step two, buy the sluttiest dress in Slutsville. Step three…”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.