back on her elbows, her legs spreading just a bit.
I groan feeling a wild, lawless thirst open up inside me. The femininity of her body is stunnin g . Too stunning. And any control I have begins to slip away with my sanity. I tip my head back and stare at the wall space above the bed .
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Think of mud, think of Travis butt-naked, anything else. . .
I try, I force, but I always stray back.
Even with my eyes closed, through the darkness, I can recall her body in all its glaring beauty. How her bra hugs her lush tits, and how the sheer fabric had strained as she bent lower on the bed. . . and how I almost made out two ripe, red cherries.
Jesus Christ.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. And sure, I want her, but not like this.
I could shoot myself.
Maybe I was the tosser.
"I think I get it now," she continues in that breathy tone, poking me in the knee with her heel until I open my eyes. "How about this?" The moment I see her, she turns over onto her stomach, then moves to sit on all fours. "Was I wrong about you being submissive?"
" Adelaide ." I shake my head slowly, unsure as to why something about this is making me feel humiliated.
"Or maybe you like those really complex positions?" She turns so that she is sitting on her knees and facing me. "You want to tie me up? Gag me? Throw me around a little bit, huh, Hatter?" The sweet seductiveness in her tone vanishes, replaced with a bitter reproach.
She sits up on her knees, sliding her hands over my shoulders as she leans in, stopping only when her lips are just inches from mine. "Or do you want to make this some sort of game. . . ? You want me to play the dirty patient and you can be the doctor?"
She holds onto my shoulders as she arches her back, tilting her head forward until her eyes lock on mine. I clench my jaw, moving my hands behind my back, refusing to join in on her antics.
"Oh, Doctor Hatter," she moans, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. "I have a problem that needs your undivided attention."
"Quit it, Adelaide." Grabbing her arms from my shoulders I shove them away. I jump up from the bed, pushing her back in the process, and grab her dress, realising just how thin the material is. I hurl it at her. "And put your damn clothes on."
"I'm sorry," she murmurs innocently, leaning forward so that she’s on all fours again. She looks up at me, batting her eyelashes. "I didn’t realise you have something against doctors. . . Maybe the schoolgirl and the big, mean teacher? I'm sure I can use a—"
"Stop screwing around." I snatch my jacket up from the floor and hold it out to her. "And I said—put some damn clothes on."
When she makes no move to take the jacket I move round her, pulling it over her shoulders and then clasp it together in the front. She smacks me away, but I’m stronger, pulling her to her feet.
"Put this on." I pry her arms from her body in an attempt to dress her. It’s only after touching her that I can feel she’s trembling. My eyes wander over her, taking in how badly she is shaking.
I was wrong. I’m not a tosser.
I am a complete and utter bastard.
She gives way somewhat, allowing me to slide the jacket over her shoulders. When I move to button the front, the back of my hand grazes over her smooth skin. She shoves me away.
"Don't," she hisses. "I can dress myself.” I hold my hands up to show I wasn't going to touch her. “Anyway, you're supposed to be undressing me."
"What is this all about?"
"Well, pardon me, I thought that's what a whore is supposed to act like."
"You’re not a whore." I say, knowing at that moment, just how upset she is with me.
She gives a harsh, derisive laugh. "Oh, I thought I’m bought and paid for tonight, Mr Hatter."
Her lower lip quivers, and tears well in her eyes. I can’t decide what she’s more upset over: Having been wagered or having stripped in front of a stranger.
"How much did you pay for me, you son of a bitch?" She tightens my jacket over the front of her,
I groan feeling a wild, lawless thirst open up inside me. The femininity of her body is stunnin g . Too stunning. And any control I have begins to slip away with my sanity. I tip my head back and stare at the wall space above the bed .
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Think of mud, think of Travis butt-naked, anything else. . .
I try, I force, but I always stray back.
Even with my eyes closed, through the darkness, I can recall her body in all its glaring beauty. How her bra hugs her lush tits, and how the sheer fabric had strained as she bent lower on the bed. . . and how I almost made out two ripe, red cherries.
Jesus Christ.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. And sure, I want her, but not like this.
I could shoot myself.
Maybe I was the tosser.
"I think I get it now," she continues in that breathy tone, poking me in the knee with her heel until I open my eyes. "How about this?" The moment I see her, she turns over onto her stomach, then moves to sit on all fours. "Was I wrong about you being submissive?"
" Adelaide ." I shake my head slowly, unsure as to why something about this is making me feel humiliated.
"Or maybe you like those really complex positions?" She turns so that she is sitting on her knees and facing me. "You want to tie me up? Gag me? Throw me around a little bit, huh, Hatter?" The sweet seductiveness in her tone vanishes, replaced with a bitter reproach.
She sits up on her knees, sliding her hands over my shoulders as she leans in, stopping only when her lips are just inches from mine. "Or do you want to make this some sort of game. . . ? You want me to play the dirty patient and you can be the doctor?"
She holds onto my shoulders as she arches her back, tilting her head forward until her eyes lock on mine. I clench my jaw, moving my hands behind my back, refusing to join in on her antics.
"Oh, Doctor Hatter," she moans, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. "I have a problem that needs your undivided attention."
"Quit it, Adelaide." Grabbing her arms from my shoulders I shove them away. I jump up from the bed, pushing her back in the process, and grab her dress, realising just how thin the material is. I hurl it at her. "And put your damn clothes on."
"I'm sorry," she murmurs innocently, leaning forward so that she’s on all fours again. She looks up at me, batting her eyelashes. "I didn’t realise you have something against doctors. . . Maybe the schoolgirl and the big, mean teacher? I'm sure I can use a—"
"Stop screwing around." I snatch my jacket up from the floor and hold it out to her. "And I said—put some damn clothes on."
When she makes no move to take the jacket I move round her, pulling it over her shoulders and then clasp it together in the front. She smacks me away, but I’m stronger, pulling her to her feet.
"Put this on." I pry her arms from her body in an attempt to dress her. It’s only after touching her that I can feel she’s trembling. My eyes wander over her, taking in how badly she is shaking.
I was wrong. I’m not a tosser.
I am a complete and utter bastard.
She gives way somewhat, allowing me to slide the jacket over her shoulders. When I move to button the front, the back of my hand grazes over her smooth skin. She shoves me away.
"Don't," she hisses. "I can dress myself.” I hold my hands up to show I wasn't going to touch her. “Anyway, you're supposed to be undressing me."
"What is this all about?"
"Well, pardon me, I thought that's what a whore is supposed to act like."
"You’re not a whore." I say, knowing at that moment, just how upset she is with me.
She gives a harsh, derisive laugh. "Oh, I thought I’m bought and paid for tonight, Mr Hatter."
Her lower lip quivers, and tears well in her eyes. I can’t decide what she’s more upset over: Having been wagered or having stripped in front of a stranger.
"How much did you pay for me, you son of a bitch?" She tightens my jacket over the front of her,
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