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Ivy searched for something that might humanize him. It didn’t help that the books on his shelves were unidentifiable, or that the only art was a trio of filigree-framed vintage French posters, each with jolly renderings of the Devil.
“Forget it.” She tried to sound normal, peppy even—or as peppy as one could sound when confused for a sex worker and felt up by one’s notorious father-in-law. As she stood, hastily pulling up her skirt and fixing her blouse, she said, “I was never here. This never happened.”
Sunset-hued watercolor flowers bloomed and exploded before her eyes as she reveled in the exquisite sensation of Sever swelling inside of her, filling a deep, visceral space that she didn’t know was there, feeding a hunger she never knew she had.
She had no earthly desire to feel her father-in-law’s [soft] lips on her neck or his [warm, taut] chest pressed against her back... No desire to feel his [strong] fingers on her hips to guide her onto his [thick] cock, taking her, filling her, possessing her and maybe Jason could help her come real quick?
He inhaled, held it for a moment, exhaled. “Do you know I haven’t been slapped in over twenty years?” She opened her mouth, withheld a bitter grin, shook her head. “Say what you’re thinking,” he prodded. “Go on. No repercussions.” “Then you were probably due,” she said. He smiled and squinted at her again. “I think I like you.”
Eyes returning to hers, he said, “I want to have an affair with you.”
It wasn’t a proposition, it was a statement—matter-of-fact, cocksure, as if he were buying a car, and she was the car he wanted.
Did she really not know? He caught her elbow, made her look at him. “Everything, Ivy. You are gorgeous and sexy and clever and fiery and... fun! Don’t you see? You’re everything a man could want.” Eyes wide, her lips quivered and closed. “I’m gonna—go take another shower.” Fuck. “Ivy—” She was already scrambling off. With a rueful sigh, he dropped his head to the floor.
