She was pretty.
No. That didn't sound right at all.
Pretty was not the word to describe Nellie Lovett.
No, not when she was around him.
Desperate.
Hungry.
Sexy.
She was so acquiescent to his needs, his demands of her. She would do anything he asked, she had proven that to him. She seemed, more often than not, to be reading his mind. Sashaying up the stairs in her tight, form-fitting outfits that hugged her full curves and revealed her cleavage to him.
She always showed up when he wanted her. Or maybe he just always wanted her when she showed up.
But she was pretty.
When she baked, her fingers covered in the white flour as she worked the dough purposefully, softening it and shaping it for the pies.
When she hawked her wares, offering them the best pies in London as she catered to each customer individually.
When they danced, one of her small hands on his shoulder and the other dwarfed by his larger one as he closed it around hers as they waltzed around her pie shop, her face glowing as she delighted in the tenderness of his touch.
She was pretty.
No, not pretty. Not when she was around him.
Not when she was covered in the blood of his latest customer, her fingers digging into the gore and extracting the bones nimbly so she could add the "meat" to the grinder to bake into her pies.
Not when she shrugged out of her tank and bra, exposing her perfectly formed, full breasts that heaved with her excited breathing as he advanced on her, the pretty pink peaks hard as he ran the flat of his blade over them.
Not when she was on her knees in front of him, his fingers knotted in her raven locks as her pretty pink tongue traversed his length as she accepted as much of it as she could into her hot little mouth.
Not when she spread her legs for him, her pretty pink cunt glistening with her juices as she waited for him to take her roughly, as she knew he wanted to.
Not when she let him bend her over the barber's chair, her skirt pushed up over her ass as she tightly gripped the armrests, determined not to cry as he brutally pounded into her.
Not when he used his razor to cut into her pretty pale neck and let her red rubies flow as she pleaded for her life with her eyes, swearing that she did it all for him.
No, Nellie Lovett was not pretty when she was around him.
Not at all.