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His Plaything(5)

By:Ava Jackson



“If I'd had any say in the matter, this wouldn't be your place.”

She faltered for a second, then glared with renewed grit. “Your dad just married my stepmom, remember?” She raised her thumb and pinky to imitate a phone and fake-sobbed, “Boo-hoo, Nixon won't stop covering the apartment in skank juice. It's not my fault I have to live with him. Why is he so mean?'” Her voice returned to normal. “I complain to Cynthia, she complains to Russ, and Russ crawls so far up your butt—”

I held up one finger. “Okay, first of all: Don't you ever call Pam a skank again. She's a cool girl. In fact, she's a grown-ass woman, which means she can screw whoever she feels like. Even if she weren't my friend, she wouldn't deserve your catty trash-talk. So grow the hell up.” I paused to relish the look of shock on Avery's face. “You see the pattern here? How other people's sex lives are none of your fucking business?”

“It becomes my business when you and your friend—” She spat the word like she was trying to get the taste off her tongue. “—roll around naked all over my home. People have to eat on that table!”

I threw up my hands. “Then I'll wipe it down when we're done. Easy solution. Glad we had this talk.”

“That's not even close to what I meant, and you know it! All your … stuff needs to stop. No more random bimbos in the apartment. No hot sex on every horizontal surface.” She flicked her wrists in a quick nope-nada gesture, making her bracelets chime and her chest wobble. Goddammit. “It's just one semester. I won't be having sex, either, so I think you'll survive.”

I couldn't decide whether I wanted to laugh or punch the wall. Like hell I'd keep my dick dry for another seven weeks. Another fourteen weeks, if I counted the training mission I'd been assigned for after my leave ended. I'd been waiting since last November and nothing in the world could keep me another second. But I had to admit, Dad had interfered in my business enough for one day, and I'd really rather not turn my condo into a war zone. I didn’t want to constantly be at odds with Avery... So I had a dilemma on my hands.

But what if the solution was staring me in the face? My lips quirked as I eyed Avery with new intent. If I wasn't allowed to bring home strange women, and she wasn't having sex with anyone … maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.

My eyes dropped down her body again. It was a gorgeous one, and it probably hadn't gotten a good, sweaty fuck session in a while—or maybe ever. I'd be more than happy to fill in for that duty. The personality inside that body seemed as stiff as a board, but then again … I didn't quite get the sense that she was stuck-up, even though her clothes looked expensive. But they were sexy as shit, so who was I to complain about that? She took care of herself and enjoyed feeling well put together. The designer labels sprinkled all over her clothes and the gold bangles on each arm told me that much. And her spitfire streak had been a nice surprise; she probably weighed a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet, but she hadn't hesitated to chew out a six-foot Navy SEAL built like a brick shithouse. A guy didn't meet that kind of girl every day. And I had to say, even if she pissed me off a little, I liked what I'd seen so far—and I wanted to see more. We hadn't really had much chance to interact during our week at the ranch. Now that we'd be living together, I definitely wouldn't mind getting to know her better.

My train of thought derailed when Avery snapped, “What? Did I say something funny?”

I must have been staring at her in silence. “Nope, just thinking,” I said slowly. Screw it—the only way to find out what's on the table is to ask. “So what do you propose?”

“Huh? Didn't I just tell you what I wanted?”

“And I said it was fucking ridiculous. But since you apparently weren't listening, let's get a few things straight.” I raised my eyebrows at her until I was sure she'd stay silent. “I just spent nine months deployed. Do you understand what that means? Thirty-six weeks under enemy fire, roasting alive in some godforsaken desert with only my hand for company.” She blinked her great big green eyes. Boy oh boy. If that level of bluntness had offended her delicate sensibilities, she was in for a whole new world. “And then I was visiting family at the ranch. You remember that part. Not exactly a prime opportunity for pussy-hunting.”

Her innocent blush made me want to push even harder. Just how red could I make those cheeks turn? Holding my hands behind my back, I took half-step closer, leaning forward slightly to emphasize the height difference between us. Her long, curled lashes fluttered, and she wet her lips, breathing almost imperceptibly faster. I'd made the right guess; she was one of those women who liked being loomed over, got off on the alpha male vibe. In a dangerously low tone, I concluded, “So I was planning to spend the next two months getting re-acquainted with warm … wet … pussy.”

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