7 - BRIXTON

"Pet, don't make me ask twice. You won't like it." The words were out of my mouth before I can help it.

Where did that come from? My dick. It officially thought it was in charge.

Bad dick.

“I am NOT a pet,” she scowls back at me, but it’s like a little cub trying to do a big bad roar, and her voice sounds just as sweet as she looks and smells. She stands still while I look at her, waiting for her to give in and follow my command, and she does, with her own little flair of false bravado.

“Good girl,” I whisper so low I’m not sure she hears it.

I can’t help myself. She deserves the praise. Confirmation she heard it comes when there’s a little misstep in her stride and then she quickens her pace.

The throbbing problem in my pants wants her to run, but not with this girl. That will cause too many unwanted complications, even if she’s the best eye candy I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at.

Trent has himself a little hidden gem. No wonder he was so uptight about keeping her away
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