Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Hello?”
“Are you not working tonight?” I enquire.
“No, I was in today, but it’s Lucca’s late shift tonight. I’m home…alone.”
A deep laugh resonates from my chest.
“You shouldn’t tell men you’re home alone, sweet Sofina. It’s a sure way to have uninvited guests stopping over.”
“You wouldn’t be uninvited,” she breathes.
Goddamn, she takes me from zero to a hundred in a second. Every part of me buzzes and burns with need.
“You’re playing with fire,” I growl.
“I’m on fire,” she whispers, her voice taking on a husky undertone.
“Sofina, are you being a bad girl?” I groan, releasing my cock once more and giving the tip a squeeze.
“Depends on what you classify as bad, Mr. Hayes.”
Fuck.
“Tell me what you’re doing right now.”
“Lying on my bed.” A soft sigh escapes her. “On the money you gave me.”
“And?”
“And speaking to you…while I touch myself.”
“Where are you touching yourself?”
“My breasts and now…”
Heavy breathing sounds make my cock strain for release. I’m so fucking hard I could burst.
“And now?” I prompt.
“Inside my shorts,” she pants out.
“Say the words, Sofina. What are you touching?”
“My…my pussy.”
Good girl. Shit, I didn’t expect this from her. There’s a reason I’m so fucking attracted to her. It’s because she craves my praise and approval, probably as much as I want to give it.
“Tell me what it feels like to touch yourself,” I urge.
“Gooooood,” she drawls out. “I’m wet and warm and tight, Mr. Hayes.”
“You don’t have to call me Mr. Hayes.”
“What should I call you?”
“What do you want to call me?” I ask, tugging at my thick length. Cum beads at the tip, glistening as I slide the pad of my thumb over it. Up and down in firm strokes, imagining Sofina is rubbing at her cunt as I do.
“I don’t know…Sir?” She laughs, and then her breath hitches. “What do your friends call you?”
Damn, I want it all from her, her words, her giggles, her voice, her orgasms.
“They call me Ronan,” I grunt. “Or sir,” I add with a grin.
“Are we friends?” she asks.
“Do you want to be?”
“So much so. Good friends. Really good friends.” She cries out, “Oh God…”
“Some people call me that too,” I tease.
“What does the girl from your office call you?”
“Eve, my receptionist?”
“No, the other one.”
Ahhh, jealous little girl.
I know she means Starla, but I like to torment her.
“You really want to know?” I growl, jerking my cock harder, listening to her making beautiful little sounds down the line. I want to reach through it and lick every inch of her. I shouldn’t still be here. I should be hunting her down like the animal I am and devour her. Feeling her coming undone with me inside her.
“Yes.”
“Daddy.”
A lot of girls balk at that name and say it’s gross, but not all of them.
The good ones like it.
“Daddy,” she cries out like the perfect little woman she is.
My cum spurts from me like creamy ribbon streams. “You’re a good girl, Sofina.”
I find myself staring at the money stuffed back in my purse and biting my nails anxiously. How am I supposed to know what it is Ronan is expecting me to buy?
After last night, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud that might disperse at any minute. The money was given to me for a purpose, and I feel like if I don’t do as he wishes, I’m a fraud in some way. I zip up my purse and go to my wardrobe, but pause when I reach for a black shirt.
Edgy. Dark. Heavy makeup.
He’s right. I do hide. When I was growing up, I was obsessed with Adele. Her voice was majestic and she was classically beautiful—still is. Her voice stole the show, not her style or looks.
I drop my hand and look down at the vest top I’m wearing. It’s gray, dull, boring. On a whim, I change into a navy dress that feels a little more airy and girly. I could use more outfits like this one.
Maybe a shopping spree is exactly what I need.
“I need you to take a shift today. Hollie is out sick,” Lucca barks from the kitchen.
Ugh.
I swear, my brother has a radar anytime an inkling of happiness or excitement flitters through me. It’s like he homes in on it and tries to squash it like it’s a pesky bug.
“No,” I tell him as I make my way into the kitchen. “It’s my day off. I have plans.”
“I’m not asking,” he fumes, pouring a mug of coffee.
“No, Lucca. You can either ask nicely and sweeten the request, or you can find someone else.”
“You’re a fucking brat. You know that, right?” He slams the coffee mug down, making the brown liquid spill onto the counter. “Fine, you can have the stage for an hour.”
My heart skips and my stomach flips. “Really?”
“I’ve never questioned your talent, Sofina. Only your expectations of an industry flooded with talented people willing to do shit to further themselves in it. It’s a dog eat dog world out there.”