Straddling him

"Take off your clothes."

His voice is gentle yet full of authority. I pause, my eyes widening as my mind goes wild.

"What?" My lips quiver, and my grip tightens around the towel he handed me a few minutes ago as I shake my head in refusal.

I'm not that kind of girl. I'm about to say so when he speaks.

"Your clothes are wet. You need a change of outfit, or you'll catch a cold," he says, his lips tight and his eyes fixed on my shivering body as he clarifies his intentions.

My mouth forms an "O" as I watch him go upstairs. He returns a few minutes later with a shirt and extends it to me. I hesitate, wondering if I'm making the right decision, but then he nods at me.

"Don't worry. The shirt is mine," he adds, handing it to me.

I accept it, and he nods toward the guest room. I don't say a word as I move into the room, lock the door, and head into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, I take off the towel and his jacket and stare at myself in the mirror.

I see my appearance clearly, and the image staring back at me makes me blush. My white singlet is now transparent from being soaked by the rain, exposing my nakedness. You can literally see my breasts, the shape of my nipples, and even their pinkness.

I get it now. This is why the security guards were staring at me earlier.

Fuck.

And the worst part is that Rory's father also saw this part of me.

In one swift move, I pull off the singlet and dry my body and hair with the towel. I take off my shorts as well, then change into his shirt.

Once I'm wearing it, his scent floods my nostrils, and I have to take a deep breath at how wonderful he smells. He has a musky aftershave scent.

I stare at myself in the mirror and notice how the shirt barely covers my thighs. But this is better than nothing, right? I can't think too much about it. The man is only being kind to me.

There's really no need to overthink things.

I spend an extra ten minutes in the bathroom before leaving. The first thing I see when I step out of the room is a cup of tea.

He hands me the tea on a tray, leads me to the dining room, and helps me sit down.

"How do you feel?" He asks, taking a seat opposite me.

"I'm better. Thank you for your kindness, sir," I say appreciatively as I take a sip from the cup.

He nods and watches me for a few minutes before asking, "So, what did Rory do that had you cursing at him so late at night? Did he run off with another woman? Don't tell me he did that to you." He asks. He sounds genuinely interested in my story.

I nod and shake my legs nervously as memories of Rory's words and actions flood my mind. Before I know it, I'm pouring out my heart to a man I barely know.

He hands me a handkerchief and continues listening as I tell him everything about how Rory and I met and how we got together.

"Rory literally begged me for a chance. It's been three years. I didn't think he could ever do this to me. I didn't think he could do this with anyone, especially someone like Beatrice. He was supposed to be on my side," I complain, sniffing and dabbing at my tears.

He nods again, then leans closer and pats me gently on the shoulder.

After the gesture, he asks another question.

"So what next? How do you plan to get revenge on him?" He inquires.

His words cause me to pause, and I fix my eyes on him.

"Don't tell me you plan to let him go after what he did to you. Rory is my son, and I know throwing tantrums won't work on him. You need to make him mad. That's the only way he'll realize his mistakes. He'll also come to realize what a wonderful person he lost," he says.

His words make me blush, and I lower my gaze shyly. "I haven't... I haven't thought about that, sir," I admit.

"It's not too late," he replies.

"I..." I'm about to speak, but his next words make me snap my gaze back to him.

"I can help if you'd like," he offers.

"What?" I gasp, shocked and confused.

What does he mean by that?

"The best form of revenge you can take on him right now is by pretending to date me. Think about it," he says gently.

I pause, my brain immediately going to work as I consider his words.

"But... but..." I'm about to speak when he cuts in again.

"I've always taught Rory to be responsible. I taught him to respect women. Why? Because we all came from women, and we've got to respect that fact. But he's clearly ignored my teachings. I'd have none of that. I'd like to teach him a hard lesson," he explains.

My mouth forms an "O" as I stare at him. If he puts it that way, it makes more sense. I swallow hard and keep staring at him, speechless.

I want to accept his offer, but... I'm scared.

I mean, I barely know this man. He's rarely in town. I've only seen him once before, and that was a year ago. The only reason I recognized him was because of his resemblance to Rory.

"One month..." he continues. "Let's make him think we're in love with each other. Let's pretend to date for one month."

"One month?"

This doesn't sound like a terrible idea.

I lower my head again and think it over, and after reaching a decision, I smile at him.

"Yes. Yes, sir. I accept the deal," I say.

Not only will I be teaching Rory a lesson, but I'll also be stomping all over Beatrice's pride. That works for me.

I see his lips curl into a small, almost invisible smirk.

"Do you agree to it?" He asks, his eyes glowing.

"Yes." I nod more eagerly this time.

I can't help getting excited when I think about how Rory will feel when he learns about this. It's definitely worth a shot.

"All right. Stand up. Let's get on with the first part," he says, rising to his feet.

I rise with him.

"Where are we going?" I ask, staring up at him.

He's a really tall man. I think he's about the same height as Rory, maybe even taller. He's definitely broader, though. More muscular. He clearly works out a lot.

"To set the stage," he replies as he heads toward the stairs.

I follow him, and we end up in his room, tucked away in a secluded corner of the house. I've never been in this part of the house, even though I've visited more times than I can count. Rory asked me not to venture there, and I listened.

Being in this part of the house feels... unreal.

Once inside, he takes off his singlet and sits on the only sofa in the room. I silently gasp at the number of tattoos and scars on his body, but I don't comment on them. Instead, I stand before him quietly.

I don't know what he's planning, but I'm ready for it.

I've heard the man is in his early forties, but he could still pass for a thirty-year-old. He's dangerously attractive. And I think he's actually more handsome than his dickhead son.

So spending time with him won't be a problem for me.

"Grab my phone," he orders, gesturing toward the device on the nightstand.

I obey. I pick it up and return to him.

He gestures to his thighs, urging me to come closer.

I bite my bottom lip at the thought of what we're about to do. I feel my body heating up, but I don't shy away from my responsibility.

I walk over to him, climb onto his lap, and straddle him.