Ruthless King (New Orleans Malones #4)

Chapter 35

35

J illy pressed her legs together. “Dry as a bone down there.”

A wicked look entered his eyes, reminding her who she was dealing with.

This wasn’t a man who would ever back down from a challenge. This was a man that other men ran from.

And here she was, little old Jilly, trying to pretend that she wasn’t ready to fall into a puddle at his feet and beg him to fuck her.

“I think someone is lying to me. And it’s going to get her into trouble.”

Jilly always seemed to be in trouble lately.

Strange, especially when she’d spent her childhood ensuring she never got into trouble.

He reached under her robe to run his hand up the inside of her leg. “Part your legs.”

She shook her head.

“Jilly, do as you’re told and part your legs,” he commanded. “I don’t like having to ask twice.”

Well, she didn’t want to deny him. She really didn’t. But she just couldn’t. “I . . . I can’t.”

“Why? Because you’ve been lying to me?”

She shook her head. Well, that was part of it.

“No. What if someone comes in?” she whispered. They’d see him touching her. Sure, she had her back to the door and was still fully dressed. But she was certain they’d know what he was doing to her.

“No one would dare,” he told her. “Trust me.”

Oh heck.

Was this a test? To see if she really did trust him?

She parted her legs.

“That’s my perfect girl,” he murmured. “So good for me.” He moved his hand up her leg to the top of her pajama bottoms. “Remind me to buy you some nightgowns. Easier access. I don’t want to have to fight my way through clothing whenever I wish to touch you.”

Dear Lord.

He moved his hand under her pajama bottoms to cup her panty-clad pussy.

Then a finger slid under her panties to run along the very slick lips of her pussy.

Oh, hell.

He thrust his finger deep into her.

She whimpered, pushing her hips up and down.

“I can see that someone was definitely lying to me,” he murmured. “That’s very naughty. Hmm, should I punish you?”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” she said hastily. “I think we can forgo punishment.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t think you deserve to be punished for lying to me?”

“I mean . . . it was a little white lie.”

“A lie is a lie, sweet girl,” he murmured. “And I won’t accept you ever lying to me. You need to be punished in order to remember this lesson. To remember to always tell me the truth.”

That was some crazy logic. But she couldn’t voice her protest because she was concentrating on the finger going in and out of her pussy while his thumb strummed her clit.

God, she was going to come while sitting on his lap in this formal dining room with his brother just down the hallway and Gerald in the kitchen.

It was unfathomable.

It couldn’t happen.

And yet she was getting closer and closer to that peak. She was going to crash. She was going to . . . kill that rotten, stinking bastard!

“Why!” she cried as he removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Why what?” he asked.

That bastard knew what she was asking. He was just being mean.

“Why did you stop? I was so close!” She squirmed on his lap.

“Do you think that naughty girls who lie get to come?” he murmured.

She nodded. “I do. I really, really do.”

“Unfortunately for you, they don’t. This is your punishment for lying.”

That was sooo mean.

Did he know how long it had been since she’d come from fingers that weren’t her own? It was a crime to tease her like this.

“Nooo, give me the spanking instead. Please.”

Amusement filled his face and she noticed how much more relaxed he looked. Had she done that?

Huh. Maybe being edged was an okay price to pay if it meant he looked at her like that.

“Poor baby. And just so you know, you’re not allowed to touch yourself.”

“What kind of diabolical, mean thing is that to tell me?”

This time, his lips actually twitched.

“Although it’s not like you’d know if I touched myself,” she added.

“I’d know. I know everything.”

Damn it. She totally believed him.

“Now, my sweet girl, I have to go to work. What are you going to do today?”

“Hmm? Oh, I thought I might work on my writing. I mean, I know I’m probably not very good?—”

“Stop, Jilly,” he said firmly.

“What?” she asked, staring up at him. He’d caught her working on her plot yesterday, so she told him about her small hobby.

“I won’t have you talking badly about yourself.”

“But it might be bad. You haven’t read it.”

“Then I’ll read it. Tonight.”

“You can’t read my work!” she wailed.

His eyes widened. Probably because she was acting like a crazy person. And she knew she was acting crazy, but she couldn’t help it.

This was her writing . . . it was her baby. She couldn’t let him read it. What if he hated it?

That would crush her.

“No, no, no, you can’t read it!”

“Baby, hush. It’s all right.” He cupped her chin, tilting her head back. “What’s wrong?”

“You . . . I . . . what if you don’t like it? What if it really is terrible?”

“I know I’m going to like it.”

“You can’t know that,” she said, shaking her head.

“I do. But if you’re not ready to show me, that’s fine.”

Her breathing came easier. She was acting like a lunatic.

“Sorry,” she said.

“No need to apologize, my sweet girl. You’ll know when the time is right to show me. Now, I want you to make sure you get plenty of rest. Have a nap this afternoon.”

She sighed. She wasn’t tired. But she also knew that arguing wouldn’t help.

“When will you be home?” It seemed like he usually worked late at night.

“Actually, I’m planning on being home to have dinner with you.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Really. Sound good?”

Oh. It sounded more than good.