His words hit her like bullets, not just because part of what Mike was accusing her of was true, but also because Mike Lancer really did look angry enough to come through the glass.
But she swallowed her fear and picked up the phone. “If you don’t get out of here, I’ll call the police. And then you’ll have to explain to them why you’re so far away from Forest Brook, shouting at us.”
Mike paled. Unlike Beau, he’d always been way more concerned with keeping up his family’s name.
He slammed his fist against the glass one last time, but in the end, he walked out of the shelter, glaring over his shoulder at Josie all the way.
And Josie let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Oh, my God! That was so scary!” Nancy said beside her. Her voice cracked on the last word and she covered her mouth with both hands, obviously fighting back tears. This was why receptionists tended not last long at Ruth’s House.
“It’s okay,” Josie said, drawing the younger girl into her arms. “I was scared, too.”
“I feel sick,” Nancy said into her shoulder.
“And I felt sick to my stomach, too,” Josie said, thinking about how Beau used to actually hang out with Mike before he’d left his Alabama life behind to join the NFL.
“No, I mean really sick!”
Then Nancy emptied the contents of her stomach down the back of Josie’s shirt.
“I’m so sorry!” the younger woman said sheepishly a few hours later when Josie left the center, dressed in some donation box clothes Sam had picked out for her while she’d been scrubbing Nancy’s regurgitated dinner off her body in one of the center’s showers.
“It’s okay,” she answered with a weary wave.
Josie was bone tired when she finally arrived home to a completely dark house a little after two a.m. But she found herself having to fight off the temptation to crawl into Beau’s bed and curl up in his strong arms.
He’s not paying to comfort you after a long day, she reminded herself as she crept past his door, and walked up the stairs to her own attic room. Besides he was probably furious with her for leaving without giving him the chance to throw a temper tantrum that would have kept her there longer than necessary.
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she reached her room and turned on the light.
But then she turned around and screamed in surprise. Beau Prescott was standing in the middle of her room, so rigid and straight, he would have looked like a statue if not for the fists opening and closing at his sides. And for once, despite his sunglasses and beard, she could tell exactly how he was feeling.
Furious. More furious than she’d ever seen him.
CHAPTER 15
“WHO HELPED YOU GET UP HERE…” But then she trailed off, noticing the state of her small attic room. It looked like an elephant had come trundling through with papers scattered all over the floor and a chair knocked onto its side. No need to finish the question, because she already had her answer.
Beau had gotten his own self up here, that was how determined he’d been to confront her about leaving.
“You can’t be mad,” she said. “You said it was my old job with sex, and my old job had time off.”
“Take off your clothes,” he growled.
“I’m allowed to take time off.”
“You’re allowed to take Friday nights off. It’s Saturday morning now, so you belong to me. Now take off your clothes.”
She was about to protest, but before she could even get a word out, he said, “Take off your clothes or I’m going to do it for you.”
She eyed him warily, thinking there was no way he would or could actually follow through on that threat. But then as if reading her thoughts, he closed the space between them, and the next thing she knew, her long-sleeved donation box t-shirt was being ripped down the center and cool air hit her torso.
“What are you doing?”
He shoved the ruined top off her body, then his hands fumbled down her sides and the next thing she knew, the yoga pants were coming off. He shoved them down over her hips before tearing her thin cotton panties off her body and throwing them across the room.
“There,” he said. “Now get down on your hands and knees.”
“Wait,” she said, holding her hands out.
“Shut up,” he said. “Don’t say another fucking word to me. Just get down on your hands and knees.”
“I don’t think—”
“If I have to tell you again, I’ll find someone else to meet my needs, and you can go back to wherever you were living before my mother dredged you up. It’s your choice. Get down on your hands and knees or get out.”
It’s your choice. Josie clung to those words and tried not to think too hard about what she was doing as she got down on her hands and knees. “Whatever you say, Mr. Prescott.”
In less than a second, he was behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his dick lodged in the back crevice of her vagina. She held her breath again, expecting a rough entry, but then she felt two of his fingers press down on her clit, rubbing, rubbing. It was too hard to be called a caress, but not so hard that it to hurt. It was a punishment, she realized with a moan, one designed to show her who had the most power over her body.
And it was working. She could feel her formerly dry kit kat, begin to weep with need. As if to confirm it, he said. “I can feel you wet on my fingers. Your pussy’s begging me to get inside of you.”
He plunged his fingers into her, almost like he had that Wednesday after breakfast, but this time he didn’t also massage her clit.
She tried to resist, but the heat he was creating became too much. Soon she was riding his fingers, pressing back against his dick. Having it lodged against the bottom of her kit kat like this was nothing short of torture, and the two fingers inside of her just weren’t enough.
She found herself reaching up behind her and trying to guide him inside, but he grabbed that hand and pinned it to the floor. At the same time, he used his thigh to spread her legs further apart, so his fingers were even less satisfying than they had been before.
It only took a few minutes of this callous teasing before she was completely out of her mind.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she said. “I can’t—”
He suddenly took his hand out of her pussy and shoved the two fingers that had been plumbing her depths into her mouth, effectively stemming her flow of words.
“Taste how hot you are right now, how fucking much you want this. You’re such a bad girl, Josie.”