But it had to be said, Elijah’s cock with sparkling silver jewelry through it? Now that looked pretty. Like when you put decorations on a Christmas tree, it goes from plain to beautiful. Well, Elijah’s pecker was my Crimble tree right now.
That’s why I didn’t take my eyes off it as I walked toward the door and ended up flipping over the back of my couch and landing on my shoulder. Like that wasn’t bad enough, thanks to his sweats being a million sizes too big around my waist even with them rolled up to camel toe proportions, they slid down my legs until they dangled off my ankles.
I probably would’ve wanted to die from embarrassment normally, but I couldn’t get the mental image of what I’d just seen out of my head. It was playing on repeat, and now the curious side of me wanted to know what they felt like.
More knocking at the door reminded me why I was walking away from the pretty pecker in the first place.
Using my shit upper body strength, I began to push myself up so that I could stand when two large hands wrapped around my sides, and I was lowered onto the floor with my back against his front.
“Answer the door, pixie,” he whispered in my ear, making goosebumps break out all over my arms. “Don’t forget, I’m your dirty little secret for now,” he added, smacking me on the arse and snapping me out of my dirty daydream.
Shooting him a glare over my shoulder, I yanked the bloody sweats back up and pointed at the bedroom. Pressing a soft kiss to my lips, he nipped the lower one before he sauntered back from whence he came.
The shift in the dynamics of our relationship had happened quickly. We’d gone from ‘nice to meet you’, to him flirting with me, to him helping me after I’d been shot, to him turning up looking like mincemeat, to jewelry in his Johnson, to him nipping my lower lip and kissing me.
Was I going to complain? Hell no. But I’d definitely glare at him so he didn’t think I was an easy Minnie—which is exactly what I did, only what I saw just added to my girly spanky banky.
His back, the muscles, the perfect backside.
This time when I tripped, it was because his tight arse cheeks had hypnotized me as they scissored with each step. It was also Dobby that I tripped over, so he let me know his feelings by swiping his nails across my foot and hissing at me as he waddled toward his bowl of food.
Seeing that the clock on my living room wall said it was just coming up to eight o’clock, I frowned as I checked the peephole to see who was calling so early.
It was MeeMee, my grandmother. Huffing out a laugh as I unlocked it and threw the door open. I was about to say good morning or ask if it was an emergency, but she breezed in and kicked my door shut, taking me with it because I was still holding the handle.
“Lock it,” she hissed, pulling me back and doing it herself anyway. “We need to talk.”
Backing away from her and tripping over Dobby again, I watched her storm past me to my kitchen and set up the coffee maker. I never used it, I was a fan of pods and simplicity, but she was old school and the only reason I had the damn thing.
“Oh, and tell that boy to put his pants on and come out, too. He’s going to need to hear this,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled down three cups.
What was going on? And how did she know Elijah was here?
A smarter person might have put two and two together and assumed she’d seen his vehicle out front. Maybe they’d even have realized they were wearing men’s sweatpants that they wouldn’t have bought for themselves, even by accident, because of how big they were. Maybe—just maybe—they’d have wondered if she’d seen him helping me up from the couch through a tiny gap in the curtains?
Me? I did none of that. Instead, I blushed and stumbled through to my bedroom again, discreetly looking around me as I went for hidden cameras. Yeah, I wasn’t a smart person at that moment—I’d penis-struck by Elijah’s perfect, pierced pecker.“So, he’s been released?” Elijah asked, frowning as he thought over what MeeMee had just told us.
The man who’d tried to rape me, Orson Riley, had been released and was now living in a small house in a place called Hayes that bordered the town it’d all happened in, West Wickham. He was on license—aka probation—but that didn’t mean jack shit because he’d already been seen out and about in the town I’d lived in.
Judging by the information she had, he’d even been out last night at The Swan pub in the center of town, laughing it up with his mates like he didn’t have a care in the world. If I’d still been there, I’d have more than likely bumped into him. The thought made me feel sick.