Kiss the Girl (Naughty Princess Club 3)

“Daaaaaamn,” I whisper when I get halfway down the stairs and come to an abrupt halt, cocking my head to the side.

The word is out before I can stop it, and honestly, if you were looking at what I’m looking at right now, you’d react the same way. Two words: Eric’s ass. He’s currently on his hands and knees, bent forward with his head under the couch in the middle of the room and his ass sticking up in the air. His grey sweatpants-covered ass. All hail sweatpants on a man and how tightly they cling to their rear ends when they bend over, showing every glorious, toned gluteal muscle.

Can I get an amen?

On top of that, he’s not wearing a shirt. The sweatpants are riding low on his hips and from my position up on the stairs, I get a perfect view of every muscle in his back, all of them rippling as he holds his body up with his arms.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Eric complains, making me jump guiltily and quickly look away from his torso to a random spot on the wall above the couch, surprised as hell that he knows I’m here since I haven’t made a sound.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Can we call a truce?”

I look back down at his ass . . . er, I mean him . . . and realize he’s not talking to me. He still has his head under the couch and is too preoccupied with whatever the hell he’s doing to realize I’m here.

I gently clear my throat as I make my way down the rest of the stairs. “Is there a problem?”

Eric’s head jerks back when my voice startles him and he smacks it against the underside of the couch so hard it makes me wince.

“GODDAMN SON OF BITCH!” he shouts, and then he quickly sticks his head farther under the couch and lowers his voice. “No, no, no. I wasn’t talking to you. Daddy loves you and would never yell at you.”

Sweet mother of fucks, what is happening right now?

Does Eric have a kid? And more importantly, why in the hell is the kid under the couch? I’m not much of a kid person, but I’m pretty sure that’s not where you’re supposed to keep them.

While my heart starts racing and I feel a mild panic attack coming on as I move across the room to stand right behind him, Eric finally crawls out from under the couch and stands up.

“Sorry about that. He seems to like small, dark, confined spaces at the moment,” he explains as he turns around.

My eyes widen in horror when I get a look at what he was talking to under the couch. I don’t even have to worry about ogling Eric’s naked chest, which would then cause me to be disgusted with myself later. And it’s all because of that . . . thing he’s hugging to said naked chest. I mean, at least it’s not a kid, but Jesus H—I’d almost prefer a screaming baby at this point to whatever that is.

“What in the hell is that thing?!” I shout, stumbling backwards as Eric starts walking towards me.

“Shhhhh, you’ll scare him,” Eric whispers, running his hand softly down what I’m assuming is the head of whatever the fuck that is, only because right below Eric’s hand are two black, beady eyes staring right at me.

“Don’t come any closer! It looks like it’s getting ready to devour my soul!” I tell him, holding both my hands up to get him to stop walking towards me.

“He’s not going to devour your soul,” Eric sighs with a roll of his eyes, stopping a few inches away from me. “He’s a cat, his name is Derrick Alfredo, and he’s a handsome young man. Aren’t you, Derrick? Aren’t you a handsome young man? Yes you are! Yes you are a handsome young man!”

Eric nuzzles his nose against the wrinkly skin on top of the hell beast’s head, and I shudder. The whole thing is so white it’s translucent, and it’s covered in creepy, wrinkly skin. His ears are so big they look like they could pick up sound waves from Mars.

“Dude, you just lost your man card for that baby talk,” I mutter, even though listening to him talk like that made my heart flutter just a little bit—but I will deny that shit until my dying day. “And that is not a cat. It’s a reincarnation of the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Eric quickly covers the monster’s ear with one of his hands and glares at me.

“He’s a Sphynx. The most famous hairless cat breed in the world,” he tells me haughtily.

“He looks like he’s inside out,” I reply, my nose wrinkling up as Eric turns his body to oh-so-kindly give me a better look. I swear the damn thing smirks at me before snuggling against Eric’s naked chest, his purr of contentment echoing around the room.