My father and Ella are flying back and forth, spending most of their time in DC. We have the house to ourselves except for Rose, who's here during the day. I'm worried she's catching on, but Caulter insists she's not. He turns on the charm when she's around, flirting with her and complimenting her cooking, wrapping her around his finger the way Caulter does with all women.
I have to reluctantly admit I can see the appeal. Caulter can almost be charming when he wants to be.
“Hey, sugar-tits.” He speaks softly, and I start, looking down to see him with that stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, Caulter is real charming, for sure.
“You almost gave me a heart attack.” I step down the ladder, but his hand is on my leg before I reach the bottom, sliding up underneath my skirt.
“I’ve decided something,” he says, cupping my ass with his palm.
My breath hitches in my throat, the way it always does when he touches me, and I grip the side of the ladder with one hand and try to slap his hand away with the other. “Stop touching me.”
“Why?” he asks, ignoring my directive. He pauses when he reaches the top of my ass and realizes there’s nothing there - no top part of a thong strap. Behind me, he squats down and peers up my skirt. “No panties.”
“You know why I'm telling you to stop,” I say. “My father and Ella got in last night, and they're around here somewhere. And the fact that I'm not wearing panties means nothing.” The lie is pathetic and feeble. I got dressed thinking about Caulter. No panties was with Caulter in mind.
Caulter’s hand is on my back, preventing me from getting down off the ladder. He slides his fingers between my legs, pressing against my entrance. “You’re full of shit, Princess,” he says. “Your father and Ella left to go out somewhere, so we're all alone. And you forgot your panties just for me.”
“Not true,” I whisper, but I arch my ass back, pushing my * against his fingers as he slips them inside. His thumb teases my asshole, sending shivers of arousal racing through my body. “We shouldn’t do this...not here.” Or at all, I tell myself. I have to stop doing this with him.
He responds by sliding his fingers further into my dripping *. “I’ve decided that from now on, you wear dresses. No panties. Skirts only.”
I laugh, but it turns into a moan as he reaches around with his other hand to stroke my clit. “Where the fuck do you think you get off, telling me what to do?”
“We've been through this before. I own this.”
“You’re crazy.” I can’t think clearly, distracted by what he’s doing to my body. Until a nose in the hallway startles me. “Shit. Stop.”
A look of irritation crosses his face, and he withdraws his fingers. I start to step down, thinking he’s giving me a reprieve from his delicious torment, but he grabs me by the arms before I can make it off the ladder, turning me around and pushing me back hard. “I want you now.”
“Did you just hear that?” I ask. The step of the ladder digs into my back, and I would slip and fall down, except for the fact that he’s pinned me there. I’m looking down at him, my head angled just above him. I shouldn’t be preoccupied with how he looks at me, his expression clouded with lust. I should be preoccupied with how my father and his mother might be somewhere in this house, how they could walk in at any moment. I should be preoccupied with how my father’s face would look when he walked in on the two of us in the library.
“I don’t hear anything,” he says, sliding both hands over my ass.
“Anyone could come in,” I protest. But the void left by his fingers is too distracting to allow me to focus on anything else.
I can’t be one of those girls who loses her mind once she gets a little bit of cock. Except it's not exactly a little bit, I think as he unbuckles his jeans and pulls out his dick. Nothing about it is small. “There’s no lock on the door.”
“And you’re not wearing any panties.” He pulls a condom from his pocket. I raise my eyebrow at him, and he smirks. “Don’t worry, I’ve just taken to carrying them with me now, being in the same house as you and all. You never know the when opportunity will strike.”
“I’ll have to make sure to wear panties around you,” I whisper, before he brings his mouth down hard on me, his kiss practically bruising. His tongue presses against mine, warring with mine, the movement an expression of our relationship.
When we come up for air, he looks at me sternly. “I said, no panties,” he growls. “Skirts and no panties. It’s a new rule.”
“You don’t make rules for me,” I say.
“I’ll take them, then.”
“What, you're going to take my panties?” I ask, laughing. “Good luck with that.” I start to step down from where I’m standing on the ladder, but he halts me, putting his hand on my breast. “Don’t,” he says, his thumb rubbing my erect nipple through the fabric, as he wraps the other hand around the base of his cock. His hardness is against my inner thigh, and I’m so wet.