Then you’re going to fuck me like the brat I am.
In the middle of the sidewalk, I drop Cassandra’s hand and grip the back of her neck, forcing her to a stop.
She looks up at me, and I want to see her just like that—wide-eyed and full of mischief—with my dick stuffed down her throat.
Cassandra presses a hand against my chest and sways into me.
“Girl.” My jaw is so tense I barely get the word out.
Her stance softens, and the sides of her mouth pull up. “Yes, Daddy?”
Fuck. Me.
My cock throbs, and every muscle in my body tenses.
I pull her closer and slide my hand up the back of her head until I’m gripping her ponytail. “That’s three.”
Her lids lower, and I don’t think she’s faking the intoxicated look this time.
She’s perfect.
Then her other hand slides out of her hoodie pocket, and three little spheres are in her palm. Red, yellow, and orange.
My grip tightens as she lifts her hand and pours the Skittles into her mouth.
“Cass—”
She opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out. The candies sitting there.
For me.
“You are a fucking brat.”
I seal my mouth to hers.
Her tongue pushes into my mouth, and I swipe mine across the top of hers.
The Skittles slip off her tongue, igniting my tastebuds.
The kiss is sweet. And filthy. And nostalgic.
Cassandra tugs at my jacket.
“Hans,” she pants.
I keep my grip on her hair, holding her still as I pull back. Then I let her see the Skittles on my tongue before I swallow.
She lets out a small whine, and my dick strains against my zipper.
“Come,” I demand, even as I start striding toward the hotel, dragging her with me.
She has to take quick steps to keep up with mine. But I slow when we near the front doors of the hotel.
I slide my hold back down to her neck, then down around her shoulders as we step inside the building.
Cassandra instantly falls into her drunk club girl routine, leaning her weight into my side.
Our footsteps echo around the black and gold lobby, and she sways to the quiet jazz music playing overhead.
Cassandra shifts her shoulder against my side, and then she slides her hand into my pocket. With a fucking giggle.
There’s a man, about my age, working the front desk, and his eyes are locked on Cassandra’s bare legs. And if this douchebag doesn’t stop staring at my woman, I’m going to need a second body bag tonight.
I clear my throat loudly and slide my hand from Cassandra’s shoulder to the back of her neck in a blatantly possessive move.
The man finally looks at me, and I feel a small amount of satisfaction at the way he takes a small step back, his animal instincts reacting properly.
“G-good evening.” The man remembers his job.
I skip the pleasantries. “We need a room.”
“No problem.” The man focuses on his computer. “How many nights?”
“Five nights,” I snap.
Cassandra turns into me and places her hand on my stomach. “Just five?” she teases.
Teases.
Her hand starts to trail lower, and I slap my free hand down over hers, keeping it still.
The man clicks his keyboard, but I don’t miss his eyes jumping between us.
“Grab my wallet, Little Girl.” I keep my gaze on the man, but my attention is all for Cassandra.
She wants to play this game, I’ll play.
Her hand twitches against my stomach, and I know if mine wasn’t over hers, she’d be gripping my shirt.
My wallet is in my pocket where her other hand already is. I know she can feel it. I know she could pull it out without an effort. But she slides her fingers deeper into my pocket, scratching her nails across my upper thigh, moving toward my dick, before she grips the leather and pulls it free.
I tighten my fingers on her neck.
The man tells us a total.
Controlling the move, I use my other hand to slide her palm down my stomach to my belt buckle.
Behaving for once, she curls her fingers around the metal and keeps them there. Keeping herself right where she belongs.
She has to wiggle her arm out between us to hold my wallet up. Rather than handing it to me, she uses her thumb to flip the folded leather open and holds it still for me.
I flex my hand on her neck, showing my appreciation, and use my free hand to pull a credit card out.
Like all my documents, it’s not my name. But the name on the credit card matches the name on the driver’s license also in this wallet.
I hand the credit card over for the man to run.
He hands it back to me with the room keys, and I don’t wait for more.
I’ve been here. I know how to find the elevators, and our room number is written down on the little paper card holder. And if I catch him looking at my girl again, I’ll snap.
Cassandra sways against me as I walk us to the elevators.
I keep my grip on her as we wait.
I keep my grip as we ride up two floors.
I keep my grip on her as I walk her down the hall.
I keep my grip until we’re in the room, with the door shut and locked behind us.
Then I let go.
