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Hermione Granger had a cigarette pinched between her teeth. Dark mahogany lipstick stained the tip. A plume of bright white smoke obscured her eyes, but if it hadn’t, all Sirius would have seen was sharp black eyeliner that would make the browns of her eyes look like they were positively glowing.Hermione didn’t smoke. She was dead set against it, actually. Seeing the wretched thing in her mouth sent a spike of anger through Sirius, because he knew whose terrible influence was responsible. Then a spike of something else shot through him, because fuck if she didn’t look good doing it.He'd soon need a cigarette of his own if he wanted to make it through this alive.Sirius shifted in his seat, glad that the dining room table was covering his lower half. Had he been sitting in his favourite wingback in the study, for example, the uncomfortable bulge of his cock within his trousers would have been clearly visible to everyone in the room.That would be humiliating.Pansy Parkinson knew anyway, of course. The bitch always knew. It was like a sixth fucking sense or something. When Sirius tore his eyes away from the sharp point of Hermione’s manicure as she plucked the fag from between her lips, he was met with the piercing stare of Miss Parkinson.Her eyes locked on his, then dropped knowingly down to the table covering him. They lifted back up, and a single perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirked. The corners of her burgundy-painted lips curled into a smirk, and her eyes fixed intently on his. Sirius wanted to wring her neck.“Let’s go, Granger,” Parkinson said without averting her eyes. “If we dally too long we won’t be fashionably late anymore, we’ll just be regular late, and that’s not any fun.”“Bye, Sirius,” Hermione said with a parting nod in his direction and an innocent little wave. “Have a good night! Bye, Harry.”“Bye,” Harry said from the sink behind Sirius. “Be safe.”The girls turned and headed toward the stairs. Sirius tried, he really did, to not let his eyes slide down, but he was a weak man. Hermione’s skirt was black and shiny and just barely long enough to cover her arse, which was pushed up into a perfect little bubble by the red-soled stilettos she was wearing. And fishnet fucking stockings. Fuck.Sirius’ lip curled.He tore his eyes away only to once again meet the knowing and absolutely insufferable stare of Pansy Parkinson as she looked over her shoulder at him before joining Hermione on the stairs.“Bye, Mister Black. Have a good night.”The fucking cunt winked at him, then she was gone. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps carried from upstairs, followed by a thud as the front door shut.Sirius’ blood was absolutely boiling under his skin. His hands were practically shaking.“Are you all right?” Harry asked.“I’m fine,” Sirius snapped.A pause, and then, “You sure?”Sirius had to literally bite his tongue before he could bring himself to respond calmly. “That Parkinson girl is a bad influence.”“Really? I think they’re good for each other. Hermione never really had any girlfriends in school, so I think it’s nice for her to be able to let loose every once in a while without me and Ron always hanging about.”Sirius sucked in a long, slow breath through his nose.He didn’t agree.He didn’t agree at all.He actually thought a chaperone sounded like a delightful idea, but he didn’t share that opinion.He hated Pansy Parkinson, and he was fairly sure that she hated him too. It had become very, very clear in recent months that the girl had it out for him. Why else would she be doing this? Why else would she be worming her way into Hermione’s life the way she was? No, she definitely had a personal vendetta of some sort with him.For whatever reason, Pansy Parkinson wanted him dead, and her murder weapon of choice was Hermione Granger.And fishnet fucking stockings. ~~~ Harry said his goodnights, then headed to the Ministry for his graveyard shift. Auror training would be the death of him, Sirius was sure.It could also very possibly be the death of him, as being left alone in the house was well-documented to take its toll on Sirius.Normally when Harry was gone, Sirius would end up staying up until the early hours of the morning chatting with Hermione in the library. She had so many ideas and notions and it gave Sirius great pleasure to hear (and often counter) them. Sometimes he truly believed in the points he was arguing or the lessons he was trying to teach, but other times he simply relished in getting a rise out of her.He'd grown so terribly affectionate of her in the years she'd been staying there with him and Harry. He was distressingly competent in convincing himself that she'd grown affectionate of him as well, though rational thought always burst that bubble once the sun rose and reality returned.But ever since she’d struck up a friendship with that awful Parkinson girl, she’d been gone more and more. Dinner dates, club nights, house parties. Hermione had suddenly become very social, and ageing ex-cons weren’t typically on the invite list.He was on the torture list, however, since he was almost always home to “give his opinion” when the girls were playing dress-up upstairs.“Mister Black,” that awful girl would say, “what do you think of this outfit? It’s sexy, right?”She would then parade Hermione around in some ridiculous skin-tight ensemble that made her look like teenaged-Sirius’ ideal wet dream and Sirius would have to grapple with his desire to insult Pansy’s fashion choices while also not insulting Hermione’s absolutely divine appearance.“It’s adequate,” he would say, to a responding smirk from Pansy.
“I think it will look better with the shoes. Hermione, love, go put on the heels for Mister Black so he can see the whole look.”
“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Sirius would snap as soon as Hermione stepped out to grab said shoes.Pansy would put the tip of her pointed nail between her teeth and smile at him roguishly. “And I’ve told you not to lie to me. You saw her thighs. They look incredible and we both know it.”
“Don’t be crass.”
“Crass is my middle name, Mister Black. What I wouldn’t give to have her sit on my face and suffocate me with those thighs.”
The image was so vivid that Sirius had to leave the room while Pansy’s ugly cackling laughter chased him out. He inevitably ran into Hermione (literally) in the hall as she made her way back in, her perfect tits crashing flat into his chest so he could feel every curve pressed against him. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back, hoping desperately that she couldn’t feel the accompanying curve from his crotch that tried of its own accord to press up against her.“Excuse me,” he said, “I forgot I had something important to do.”She sputtered adorably as he slipped past her, her pouty lips pushed out enough to bite, and Sirius closed his eyes lest he admit that the very important thing he needed to do was go wank in the shower.But now they’d gone, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts. They were headed to a dance club, and dressed like that, they were both certain to be swarmed with unsavoury men with only one thing on their minds. Nevermind that it was the same thing Sirius had on his mind; at least Sirius knew he was trustworthy, which couldn’t be said for the randy sex-obsessed youth of today. Hermione deserved better. Better than him, better than them, and better than that insufferable Parkinson girl that was corrupting her more and more, day by day.It was peer pressure, plain and simple. Hermione wasn’t the promiscuous type. She didn’t do loud music and tight clothes and random hookups with strangers, and she most certainly didn’t smoke. It wasn’t her. It was that awful girl.Hermione was sweet. Untainted. Sure, she had her sharp edges, but it only made the rest of her all the more precious. It spoke to the shadowy place in Sirius’ mind that craved safety and belonging. She was like home, and he wanted her to himself, not that he’d ever have the courage or the audacity to suggest such a thing.He was everything she wasn’t. Dark, twisted, tainted.She deserved better, that was the whole point.He’d contented himself to watch from a distance, to be happy to be her friend and temporary housemate, and seek nothing more from her.Until she befriended that awful girl who started putting thoughts in her head and putting her on display for Sirius to see. It put thoughts in his head, which wasn’t a good thing. Fantasies seemed more realistic, possibilities seemed within reach. But they were just that: fantasies. That wasn’t who she really was, it was just Pansy, but the line was becoming blurrier and blurrier with each passing week.It was driving him mad.Midnight passed, and Sirius still sat alone in the library with an unread book open on his lap. His skin was crawling. He felt dirty, scummy. His skin felt tight and unpleasant. He needed a shower.Yes, a shower would clear his head.He snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the table as he stood and stalked upstairs.The house was quiet. Too quiet. He hated it. He hated the way the stairs creaked, the way the windows whistled when it was windy, the way the shadows filled every dark corner of the old house as if they were coming to personally claim him as their own.Sirius wasn’t meant to be alone in a place like this. He hated it more than anymore; more than even Pansy Parkinson.He practically raced to his room, snatching a towel and a clean pair of trousers before heading to the bathroom across the hall.The wall sconces flickered as he flipped them on and he turned on the shower head, undressing while he waited for the water to warm up. The room was cold, so cold his breath practically ghosted out in front of him as he waited. His nipples pebbled, and gooseflesh spread out across his body.No amount of chill in the room would stop his cock from standing to attention, however. He was a goner. Truly done for. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind. Hermione, standing before him, white smoke obscuring her face, the only visible part of her the dark lips parted to allow the smoke out.His heart pounded in his chest as he stepped into the clawfoot tub and pulled the curtain closed around him. The water hadn’t warmed enough yet. It shocked him, sent a chill down his spine, and he wrapped his hand around his cock.His eyes fluttered closed. He saw the curve of her neck as she walked away from him, her hair piled high on top of her head, only a single strand falling down to trail down the length of her spine going down the back of her dress.He gripped himself tighter. The water heated up. His hair fell limp and clung to his face, but he didn’t push it away. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter to keep the water out, and breathed through his mouth as his face became overwhelmed. He put his free hand against the old tile wall behind the curtain as he began working himself with his other hand.He saw the way her hips bobbed left and right as she climbed the stairs; her voice like honey when she spoke to him.“Did you want to come, Sirius?” he imagined her saying. She would never really say that. He knew it in his heart, but under the spray of hot water, she could say whatever he wanted her to say. “We could have fun together.”“You don’t need an old man like me,” he responded in his head. The chase was half the fun.
“Oh, but I want you to come. I’ve wanted you to come all this time. Please, Sirius.”
He took a step toward her, close enough that their chests could touch with only one more small step. She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes big and round and innocent, and he looked down at her, eyes heavy, chest aching, fingers trembling in anticipation.“Sirius, please,” she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering.His hand tightened around his cock as his imaginary hand lifted, his knuckles running softly over the line of her jaw. How soft would her skin be? Her eyes closed, her head tilted into his touch, and she released a long, yearning breath.“I want you,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.He could feel his groin tightening, his entire body tensing. He surged forward, his hands encompassing her face as he crashed his lips into hers. She opened her mouth eagerly, letting his tongue delve in and run across hers. Her chest pressed against him, leather squelching against his bare skin, because of course he was shirtless and dripping wet in his fantasy.Her hand came around the back of his head and wound its way into his hair. Her fingers formed a fist and she tugged. His lips left hers as his head pulled back. He saw her feral grin as she licked his saliva off her lips and held him there, just out of reach.“Do you want me too, Sirius?” she cooed.“Yes, yes, I want–” he panted into the steam. “I want you–”He squeezed his eyes shut as they began to sting. When he opened them again, it wasn’t Hermione standing before him but Pansy Parkinson, the white stick of a lolly poking out from between her pursed lips as she stared at him hungrily. She reached up with her free hand and pulled the stick out, revealing a rosy pink sweet that she pulled through her lips, staining them with its dyes, until her lips made a ‘pop’ sound.“You want me?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.He was gone. Far too gone to turn back now. “Yes, yes, I–”An arm draped across Pansy’s neck from behind and Hermione’s face slid in to rest atop Pansy’s shoulder. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips open. She looked at Sirius, then over at Pansy, and she smiled.Pansy stuck the lolly in Hermione's waiting mouth. Hermione sucked it fervently, eyes fluttering closed. Pansy then leaned forward. She was so close her lips could touch his if only she wanted them to. “Then beg," she whispered.Sirius cried out as he came. He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t control it. It was too late. Far too late. His cum spurted out, sliding down the side of the vinyl curtain, and it took all of Sirius’ effort to not stop breathing.His hand eventually slowed, his chest shuddered, his eyes shut tight.Shame was already creeping in before he’d even managed to open his eyes again.What the fuck was that? his mind screamed.He dropped his hand from his cock, which was already starting to grow limp, and took a step back. From what, he didn’t know, but he needed to get away from whatever the fuck that was that just played out in his mind.He was dirty. He was awful, and lecherous, and inappropriate.His heart pounded, his mind cleared.He reached forward for the knob and turned the water cold. He resisted a yelp as the temperature changed, and stepped back under the spray. He shivered, but did not step away.He deserved this.He needed this.Perhaps he was just as bad as the rest of them. ~~~ He laid awake in bed for the better part of an hour before accepting that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.He was naked, never having bothered getting dressed after his shower, lying with his body covered but one leg hanging out into the chilly night air. His foot was cold, but he deserved it. The blankets were too warm and made him feel sweaty and suffocated. He didn’t deserve their comfort anyway.He eventually huffed his way out of bed and stalked to his closet.This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. He was a grown bloody man, not some blasted teenager. He had no business lusting after girls twenty years younger than him. He had no business entertaining fantasies about his friends (or enemies) nor laying awake all night worrying about her well-being.And what bloody business did Pansy bloody Parkinson have worming her way into his inappropriate fantasies anyway? The fucking audacity of this bitch! How dare she!Sirius pulled on a pair of ratty old pyjama trousers and a dressing gown, which he wrapped tight around his waist. He didn’t bother with a shirt, because fuck it, this was his house anyway.He stalked down the stairs barefoot and made his way into the kitchen. He put the kettle on to boil.He was losing his goddamned mind and he knew it. This had to stop. Something needed to change.He poured the hot water into the cup and idly bobbed the tea bag, watching the colours seep out into the water.Where the fuck had they hidden the sugar? Fuck it, he'll drink it plain. He didn't deserve sugar anyway. Perhaps he should move out. He’d let Harry keep the house, let Harry allow whomever he liked to live there with him, and Sirius could get a flat somewhere, or perhaps go renovate one of the old summer homes. The house was too dreary for him anyway. He hated it there. A change would be good for him. Sunlight, new furniture, white painted walls. It would do him good.The hot water scalded his tongue as he drank it, but Sirius didn’t care. It was grounding in a way. He needed that too. He’d let his imagination get out of hand lately. Grounding would be good.He didn’t know how long he sat there (hours, probably), simmering in his rage, before he heard the front door bang open overhead. Stomping footsteps echoed through the floorboards, the door slammed shut, and he heard a woman shriek. He was halfway out of his chair, ready to run upstairs and valiantly save the day, when he heard a chorus of giggles and amused voices. He sank back down and scowled into his cup.They were both here. Hermione brought that bloody Parkinson girl home with her. At least it wasn’t a man. At least she came home at all. Or would he have preferred otherwise?The stomping footsteps reached the stairs and he had a brief moment of panic that they might come down to the kitchen, but then they faded in the distance and he knew they’d gone up to the rooms. A door banged somewhere off in the house, and then it all fell quiet.Sirius slouched into his chair and frowned.He should feel relief, but he didn’t.Wasn’t that what he stayed up for? Why he couldn’t sleep? Hermione was home, safe and sound, and he could rest easy now.Except all he felt was sick.He waited a few more minutes just to be sure that they were both firmly in bed before finishing his long-since-cold tea, depositing the cup in the sink, and heading back upstairs.He had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained down on his feet, when he reached the landing for his room. His door was open, as he left it, but there was something wedged into the doorway.Was that a shoe?A glossy black stiletto with a red sole was wedged between the door and the frame, preventing it from closing.A pathetic sounding whimper snuck its way out from within the room.Merlin’s saggy tits, Hermione’s in my room, he thought in a panic. Was she drunk? Had that awful girl got Hermione so smashed that she couldn’t even find her own room? Would she be asleep? Had she undressed?Images of Hermione naked, drunk, and asleep in his bed flitted through his mind. His cock reawakened from the thought alone.Stop it, he chided himself. Thoughts like that were so wildly inappropriate, he should be jailed again just for thinking them.He should leave. He should turn around and go back downstairs and sleep on the sofa in the sitting room, or maybe even one of the guest bedrooms. He looked down at himself, at the open dressing gown exposing his bare chest. He was far from dressed for company. He could go steal a shirt from Harry’s room perhaps…“Yes, just like that!” a voice cried from inside his room.Sirius’ brain slammed to a shuddering halt. Was that–? Is she–?A shaky breath fell from Sirius’ open mouth and he took a step forward unbidden. He ought to turn around. He ought to leave and push every thought and memory of this from his mind, but his feet were moving of their own accord. His hand lifted without his permission. He put his palm on the wood of the door and pushed. It glided open, not a squeak to be heard.The first thing he saw, his eyes still cast down, were the clothes littering the floor. Jackets, shoes, shirts, and a black lace brassiere. He lifted his eyes, his heart beating in his throat, and looked right at the bed.Bushy brown hair was fanned out across his duvet as a woman lay flat on her back. Her uncovered breasts heaved with every laboured breath she took. One leg was bent at the knee and balanced on the edge of the bed, while the other was hooked around the bedpost. A head of dark hair bobbed between her legs while the woman's fists clenched the blankets in an iron-clad grip and her hips rocked up into the person’s face.“Yes, yes, oh, please!” Hermione chanted, because it was undeniably Hermione lying on his bed.A third hand came up and cupped itself around one of Hermione’s breasts. It squeezed. Hermione moaned. The fingers slid upward until the thumb and pointer fingers were pressed against her taut nipple. Hermione’ breath shuddered, and the fingers pinched and twisted.Hermione cried out. Her back arched. The muscles in her stomach fluttered. Her head tilted back and Sirius saw her eyes squeezed shut tightly and her mouth open wide as she cried into the night.The hand on her nipple released and fell back before squeezing the meat of Hermione's thigh so tight that the flesh grew pale. Sirius followed the movement and met the eyes of the person crouched there. Dark eyes, shrouded in charcoal, and sleek black hair framing her face.“Oh, Pansy,” Hermione groaned.The woman’s eyes were fixed intently on Sirius where he stood in the doorway. He couldn’t see the lower half of her face, but he could see the shifting of her cheeks and knew she was smirking. Sirius felt rage bubble through him. It was her. That woman. That awful, insufferable woman.Hermione’s body finally relaxed onto the bed and Pansy rose up, her tongue laving one last swipe across Hermione’s cunt as she lifted halfway onto the edge of the bed. She rested her elbows on the mattress, still nestled between Hermione’s legs, and never took her eyes off of Sirius.She was topless, but a barely-there bra covered her nipples. The top of her stockings rode high over her belly button while her skirt sat low on her hips. She rested her chin in her hands and leaned forward.“Enjoy the show, Mister Black?” she asked.Sirius’ heart flipped.Hermione’s eyes flew open and she whipped around. They fell on Sirius only briefly before she looked away and started scrambling.Pansy smirked, her eyes crinkling in delight.“Oh my God!” Hermione gasped.Her arms flew up to cover her chest and her knees slammed shut, almost smacking into Pansy who only just moved out of the way in time. She fisted the edge of the duvet and pulled it up to cover herself.Her hair was a mess and her lipstick was long gone. Her eyeliner had smudged down her eyes but it didn’t look bad, it was actually quite sexy.Hermione looked around the room and Sirius saw the moment she realised where she was; that she was not, in fact, in the privacy of her own room, but rather in his.“Oh my God, Sirius, I’m so sorry!” Hermione cried again.“Why are you apologising?” Pansy asked, the epitome of calm where she remained perched on her knees against the edge of the bed, arse swaying gently behind her. Pansy then rose up and sat on the edge of the bed beside Hermione, making no effort whatsoever to cover herself. Their bare shoulders brushed. Sirius closed his eyes.“Because we’re in his room!” Hermione exclaimed. “This is so inappropriate. I’m so sorry, Sirius!”“He doesn’t seem especially put-out.”“What?”“Look at him, he’s hard as a rock.”Hermione’s eyes fell down to his pyjama trousers, which were indeed tented as far as the fabric would allow. Sirius quickly dropped his hands to cover his shame and re-wrapped the dressing gown tighter. Hermione’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an adorable little ‘o’.“I didn’t… I’m not…” Sirius stammered.The goddamned Parkinson girl smirked again. Sirius wanted to wring her neck. She slid forward on her hands and knees and climbed across the bed, bent over so he could see the tops of her tits hanging out of her little corset top. She shimmied off the bed, stood, and approached him slowly, hips swaying, while Hermione remained on his bed, legs folded under her, wide-eyed and precocious.“Is this not what you wanted?” Pansy whispered in his ear when she reached him.“Excuse me?”She looked over her shoulder to where Hermione still sat and Sirius followed her gaze. Her eyes snapped back to his and he couldn’t help but follow. Her smudged makeup made the hazel of her eyes pop straight out at him. She was so intense, so assertive. Sirius’ cock twitched.“I know you want her,” Pansy said. She leaned forward so her lips brushed ever-so-gently against his ear as she spoke again. “I want her too.”Sirius’ eyes fluttered against his will. His stomach swooped.“She plays coy, but I know she wants to as well.”“You’re lying.”“Look at her. She’s so ready.”“This isn’t right,” Sirius choked out.“What’s not right about it? She’s dressed up like a Christmas present, waiting to be unwrapped.” Her hand popped up to delicately cover her mouth then, but the crinkle around her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Oops, sorry," she said. "I actually already unwrapped her for you."“You’re drunk,” he said with a gulp. “I won’t… I won’t take advantage.”Pansy grinned widely and took a step back. Her hand dropped to her chest and fanned out delicately. “Oh, I’m not drunk!” Pansy exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. She looked over her shoulder once again. “Are you drunk, Hermione?”Hermione shook her head emphatically. Pansy turned back to Sirius.“See,” she said. “No one’s drunk here. Unless it’s you that’s drunk, which just wouldn’t do. I wouldn’t want to take advantage, you know.”“I… I’m not.. I’m not drunk.”“Excellent. So we’re all on the same page.”“But I heard… I heard you stumbling downstairs. And laughing.”Pansy shrugged. “Girls will be girls,” she said with a smirk. “So what will it be, Mister Black?” She ran one finger down the open hem of his dressing gown, gently exposing the hairs on his chest as she did so. “Do you want to fuck her? Or would you prefer to watch as I fuck her first?”Sirius wasn’t entirely sure that his heart hadn’t stopped beating completely. He gulped. His eyes flicked between them, both watching him so intently. Hermione scooted forward slightly, her lower lip pinched between her teeth. Her legs spread beneath the blanket as she scooted closer. He could see her knees peeking out, but he couldn’t see more. He needed to see more. He was practically about to explode.Their eyes met, and he saw the fire burning behind her eyes.Her arms relaxed and the duvet slipped down just enough that he could see the tops of her breasts. She was completely naked under there. Was this real? Was this really happening?“You’re lying. You’re manipulating me,” he stammered.“Am I lying?” Pansy turned over her shoulder to Hermione. “Hermione, am I lying?”Hermione’s eyes flitted between Pansy and Sirius like a deer caught in the headlights. She shook her head.“Use your words, love.”“No, she’s not lying,” Hermione said.“Say you want him.”Hermione gulped. “I want you,” Hermione confirmed. “I want you, Sirius.”In a move more bold than Sirius had ever seen before, Hermione let the duvet fall and puddle in her lap. She heaved a deep breath and her chest swelled. Sirius thought he might die.“Sweet Circe,” he breathed.“Circe’s not going to help you here, Mister Black.”“Don’t call me that.”“Oh? What should I call you then? Sir?”His eyes whipped to hers. “You don’t want to do that.”“Don’t I? What about Hermione? Should she call you sir?”Pansy was like a spider and he was caught in her web. She had him exactly where she wanted him and he knew it. Had she planned this? Manipulative little bitch."Fuck you," he said feebly."That's the plan."Sirius glared, teeth clenched.“Do you want to fuck me too?” she asked when he didn’t respond.Sirius practically growled as his eyes turned to her. She smiled, too perceptive for her own good.“Use your words, Mister Black.”His blood was practically boiling. “No, I don’t want to fuck you. I hate you. I think you’re vile.”“Oh? Perhaps something else, then?”“Something else?”“What would you like to do to me? You could simply fuck me into the mattress until I’m begging you to stop. You could tie me up and make me watch as you fuck Hermione until she’s begging you to stop. Deprive me of my own release. Tease me, torture me, destroy me.”“I don’t…”“You could lay me down with your boot on my throat and deny me while she fucks you. Or would you prefer I do that to you?”Images flashed behind his eyes; possibilities. Red-soled stilettos pressing against his throat. Delicate hands tied to his headboard with a bed sheet. Two mouths, kissing him at once. Lipstick smudges on his chest.“It’s your choice, Mister Black. This is your room, after all.”“Don’t call me that,” he snarled.“Yes, sir,” Pansy whispered, eyes flashing.Hermione whimpered in the distance, but Sirius didn’t have time for that yet. He’d snapped. His decision was made. He couldn’t take this any longer. He focused on Pansy, his intentions set. She grinned, her tongue cheekily peeking out from between her teeth.She knew, of course. She always fucking knew what he was thinking.“Get on your knees," he ordered. “Yes, sir,” she said, and she sank down to the floor.