Page 5

Sherman

I immediately wrench the door back open, gutted at the look on Miranda’s face, tears starting to brim the lower lash lines of her gorgeous gray eyes. I’m not thinking about what’s right or wrong when I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her off her feet, hugging her tight to my naked chest when I pull her inside the house, kicking the door closed.

“Angel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to slam the door. I don’t know why I did that. Forgive me?”

Miranda tucks her face in my neck, draping her arms over my shoulders, and she purrs out a yes . My cock jerks against her stomach, and as quickly as I picked her up, I set her down again, backing up a few paces.

I look away from her rosy cheeks, pulling a blanket from the couch to wrap it around my shoulders, hiding my half-naked body. She’s probably just as uncomfortable, if not put off, by my lack of clothing as we stare at each other until I finally ask, “What are you doing here?”

She jumps a little as if coming back to the present. “Oh, I’m here to help set up for the party.”

I raise a brow when I check the time on the clock hanging above her head on the wall. “At six-fifty-two in the morning? The party doesn’t start ‘til noon.”

Miranda sucks in her cheeks before answering, “Figured I’d get a head start.” Then she flutters her lashes as she steps closer. “Is there anything I can do to help you , sir?” I back away, knocking into the recliner before I step around it, and she follows me, smiling sweetly. “I’d be happy to help you with anything you need.”

The little angel has no idea how filthy her words sound to a man, conjuring visions of her helping me by twirling her little tongue around my cock the way she did her spoon at the meeting and drinking down my cum so I don’t make a mess. She doesn’t need a perverted old man like me thinking of such things, sullying her innocence.

I go hoarse, pulling the blanket tighter around me, inching toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Something to the side catches Miranda’s eye, and I groan, entirely mortified by the state of my house after days spent wallowing in my misery. The living room is in disarray, the nearly empty whiskey bottle and too many take-out containers—tangible evidence that I gave up on my diet—litter the surfaces.

I rush to the coffee table, holding the blanket with one hand while trying to scoop everything up with the other, fumbling with the bottle. “Sorry for the mess. Maybe you should come back later after I’ve had time to clean up.”

Miranda takes the bottle from me. “Hey, hey, why don’t you let me take care of that instead?”

I try to take the bottle back and only succeed in dropping my blanket, fumbling to recover myself. “Why would you do that?”

“It’ll be my house soon,” she says, stacking the take-out containers. “So I don’t mind cleaning up before our guests arrive.”

“What?” I pull on my ear, wondering if I heard her correctly.

Miranda freezes, holding a container in mid-air. “What?”

“What did you say?”

She snaps back into action, balancing the pile of containers while she looks around the living room for the opening to the kitchen. “Nothing.”

I follow after her, tripping over the blanket. “I could’ve sworn you said…” I stop. I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way she said what I think she did. Maybe I haven’t fully detoxed from all the whiskey yet.

She stops, too, grimacing at the garbage bin that needs to be emptied and taken out. She sets the bottle on the counter and goes to the bin, attempting to stuff everything down far enough to pull on the drawstrings. Humiliation sweeps through me, and I’ve found that I’ve had all I can take. I drop the blanket, grab Miranda’s biceps from behind, and forcefully steer her back toward the front door, ignoring the impulse to steer her over the back of the couch, flip her skirt up, and thrust inside her angelic pussy.

I gently push Miranda through the door onto the stoop. By the time she spins around, bewildered and ready to argue, I have the door open only a crack. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it handled. See you at noon.”

I shut the door on her, throw the lock, and take my miserable ass to my bathroom. I skip looking at myself in the mirror as I shove my pajamas down and step into the shower, stroking my cock to completion before the water has even turned hot. And then I do it all over again, needing to empty my mind of Miranda in all her innocent glory before I attack my messy house to ready it in time for the company-wide party.

I trudge through the living room afterward, hanging my head, deciding to hit the kitchen first, only to be greeted by the sight of Miranda on her hands and knees, her plump ass high in the air as she scrubs at some spill beneath the table in the eat-in breakfast nook.

“Angel!”