I must’ve eventually fallen asleep, because soon light blared against my lids. Groggy, I lifted my head. Always gro
ggy. None of us Crownes slept well. My grandfather didn’t sleep, liked to compare himself to Teddy Roosevelt too much. My mother and my sister Gemma used pills. I don’t know what Abigail did; maybe she slept with her demons like me.
I shook the hair out of my eyes and got out of bed.
“Ouch!” Snitch yelped, rubbing her thigh.
I lifted my foot back instantly.
“Sorry. Not used to having guests,” I said.
Not used to having people, period.
She shot me a look. I could tell she didn’t believe I hadn’t done it on purpose, but I didn’t care enough to tell her. I waited for her to look at me, or look at me then look away, but she only glared at the floor. Her lips were a soft heart in the dawn light, begging to be kissed, sucked, bruised.
I jumped out of bed, putting distance between us. Snitch really was poison ivy. Itchy, painful, annoying, impossible to ignore until you rip it out at the roots.
“Umm…Gray,” she called. “I mean, Mr. Crowne.”
I paused at the stairs. “Yeah?”
“Umm…if I’m going to stay with you…I need to shower, and stuff.”
It happened in a flash, before I had a second to fight back. Snitch naked, and then I was hard, fucking rigid. I shifted, swallowing, rubbing my right eye until I saw white, trying to rid the image of Snitch. What did she look like underneath all those clothes?
I can’t decide if it’s a good thing that she dresses like an Amish nun, if seeing what’s beneath those clothes would drive me crazier, or stop my wondering.
“There are four-and-a-half bathrooms in my wing,” I said, voice rough. “You can use one. Never use mine; it’s the north one.”
I picked up my pace, taking the open stairs two at a time.
“Wait!” she called after me. “Which one can I use?”
I took a detour into my office and slammed the door shut behind me. I didn’t move. My heart pounded, and I felt like I’d just run from the fucking cops. My cock was hard as a rock. I couldn’t stop getting hard around this girl. I banged my head against the door, willing my cock to go down.
The shower turned on, water spraying. It sounded close, like she’d chosen the one just down the hall, and I went rigid at the thought of her, water running down her body. I had only the barest idea of what she looked like. Her clothes were so damn bulky and shapeless, but I knew what she felt like against my chest, how her thighs spread between mine.
But how did her hips curve?
I didn’t move from my spot. Listening to the water spraying. My cock pressed against my sweats, a wet spot darkening the fabric. Since she came on my thigh, I couldn’t get the thought of her pussy out of my damn head. Now I was picturing it—her—naked, wet.
Water dripping down her gingerbread skin.
Between her thighs.
Fuck it.
It’s like porn. It doesn’t mean shit if I jack off to her. I slid my hand beneath my pants, grasping hot, rigid flesh, determined to finish what I’d started earlier. Get it out of my system.
I stroked myself to the spray of the shower, the image of her like a siren calling to me. Her skin is so fucking soft. The kind for kissing and sucking and biting. She hides so much of it. I bet it’s soft everywhere. I groaned, the doorknob digging into my back.
Bite me harder.
Fuck—that hickey I gave her is faded. I want to mark her again. Cover her in bruises. Between her thighs. On her cunt.
My grip tightened. I tugged.
Hear her gasp when I sink my teeth and tongue into her.