But something in my heart, my brain, knew I was lying to myself, knew that this was starting to be more, a kernel of emotion blossoming, taking root. I shook it off, cursing myself internally. This wasn’t the time to have second doubts because I was just about to lay down the rules, establish myself as the man of the house.
So I turned back to the brunette, who was nibbling on her sandwich once again.
“Baby,” I said gently. “While you’re with me I want to set some ground rules. There aren’t many, but there are a few I thought you should be aware of.”
And she nodded, licking her lips slightly, lapping up a couple crumbs. I was so distracted by that pink flicker that I almost lost my train of thought again, almost jumped her right there, under the kitchen lamps. But fuck, back to business.
“Of course, Mr. Jones, I’m all ears.”
And I nodded approvingly.
“Good, because the first one is this,” I said, pulling a tiny black g-string out of my pocket, the lace sheer and fine, the crotch nothing but a postage stamp of cloth. “When you’re in the house, this will be the only thing you wear. I want everything else bare, boobs, butt, ass, open and creamy.”
And the girl gasped, her cheeks flushing. Again, that g-string couldn’t have been more than a square inch of cloth at most.
“But Mr. Jones,” she sputtered. “I –I –I’ll get cold!” she protested helplessly.
I grinned wolfishly at her.
“I’ll set the house temp so that it’s eighty degrees at all times, you’ll be toasty baby, I’ll make sure of that. In fact, it’s already at eighty-five.”
And sure enough, the girl overheated again, a delicate flush rising to her cheeks.
“I did think it was a little hot,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to the table before stealing a glimpse at the g-string again. Fuck, the tiny piece of lingerie was so small, so flimsy in my hand that I bet she was already thinking how I’d rip it off in one fell swoop, that bit of fabric no match for my aggressive ways.
And I laughed deep in my throat because the teen was right. And there was more.
“Good, that was rule number one. Rule number two is that when I’m in a room, you’ll need to show me your pussy.”
She gaped again at me, mouth open.
“But I don’t get it Mr. Jones. Aren’t I supposed to be wearing … that?” she gestured at the lacy g-string in my hand. “That would co-cover me,” she stammered.
“Yes,” I ground out, my eyes hot on her body. “But you’re gonna be pointing your pussy at me at all times, pulling the cloth to the side so you’re bare. Like this,” I demonstrated with the g-string, stretching the crotch to one side so there could be no mistaking exactly what she was supposed to do. “Your kitty is mine and I expect it to be open for my gaze and touch whenever I want.”
And the girl gasped again but I could tell she was turned on too.
“Oh my god, Mr. Jones, oh my god.”
I could tell Lindy thought she was in the middle of some Fifty Shades of Grey dream scenario, but there could be nothing further than the truth. Christian Grey was a boy, a sissy trying to figure himself out. By contrast, I was an adult male, alpha, dominant, and had been playing with females for years. I knew exactly what I was doing, and exactly how I wanted to do it.
“Got that honey?” I rumbled deep in my chest, my voice as soothing as liquid amber. “Got that?”
And the brunette nodded slowly.
“Yes, I – I think I got it,” she stammered, blushing again.
That was good enough for now because I’d saved the kicker for last.
“And honey,” I said slowly, “My last stipulation is that you fall asleep with my dick in your body each night. It can be in your pussy, your mouth or your ass, but it’s gotta be in you somewhere, pushed up tight.”
And that one made Lindy audibly shriek then, her gasp sliding into a high-pitched whine. Because I’d said nothing about oral or anal so far, maybe she thought the ten days with me were going to be just pussy sex, just a little dick in twat, a little creaming kitty on my pole. But hell no. HELL no. I fucking love a woman’s ass, that dry, hot heat, the anal breach so tight, so mysterious, and I wasn’t holding back this time or ever.
And the girl’s mouth? Well those pink pouty lips had had me distracted from the get go, made my motor rev for years, and there was no better place for them to be than circled around my dick, kissing me, licking my member, sucking me hard until her cheeks hollowed. So yeah, rule number three? It was the cherry on top and I was looking forward to having those lips on me tonight in fact. Fuck, I was looking forward to being in Lindy every night from here on out.