Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“I don’t hate myself for using you. At all.” He waggles his eyebrows in an appreciative leer. “And yes, I brought the money. Go get dressed, and we’ll take it down to the salon together.”
I climb off his lap. “Do I have time for a quick shower?” I call over my shoulder as I pad to the bedroom.
“Do what you need to do.”
I turn on the water and pop in the shower, making it quick, not wanting to keep him waiting. The heaviness and confusion that plagued me this morning is gone, and now as I shampoo my hair and shave my legs, a new excitement bubbles up. Bobby’s still into me. My debt’s getting paid off. And our honest conversation made me feel safe with him.
When I step out of the shower, I find Bobby sitting on the bathroom countertop, waiting.
I yank the towel from the rack. “Eek! You surprised me. I’m sorry, am I taking too long?”
As usual, he looks casually elegant, his khaki slacks crisply ironed, the short-sleeved button-down square cut at the bottom to wear untucked. “No, I just wanted to watch.” His eyes rove across my wet shoulders, then skip down to my legs.
I drop the towel to give him the full view. “I’m yours to ogle.”
He grins. “My buddy Dean just texted to say he has tickets to the Yankees game next week. You want to come?”
“I’d love to! Oh wait” I give him a coy look over my shoulder as I head out the door– “Why are you even asking? I thought I’m supposed to be available to you anytime you demand, unless I’m working.”
He lunges and catches me around the waist before I make it out the door. Hauling me back, he puts his lips to my ear, nipping the shell of it before he growls, “Are you really going to tell me how to do my job?”
“No.” I laugh.
He squeezes my ass, then cranes his neck to inspect my backside. I examined myself in the mirror this morning, fascinated with how quickly my ass recovered from punishment. Only a few red lines remain from my whipping.
“How is this beautiful ass today?”
I consider lying. I certainly don’t want him to ever spank me harder than he did. But he seems so good at reading me, he’d probably know a fib when he heard it. “A little sting-y in places, but mostly fine,” I admit.
He turns me to face him, squeezing and kneading my ass. “Does it scare you to hear I can’t wait to do it again?” His voice is low and seductive. Giving pain definitely is his pleasure.
I swallow. My clenching, dripping core says no, regardless of my reluctance to admit anything to my demanding lover. “A little.”
“I jacked off this morning to the memory of how you looked laid out on those pillows last night. All that sweet begging.”
I flush, irrationally pleased by his turn-on.
He releases me and gives my ass a light tap. “Go on and get ready.”
“Yes, Master.” I laugh and go into the bedroom, pulling on a halter top and jeans.
“Mmm, mmm,” Bobby says when he sees me. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Chapter Ten
Lexi
I finish up with my last client the next day and sweep up the hair on the floor.
It feels good to have paid off Arissa, and she’s acting friendly to me, but honestly, I’m still hurt. I really, really hope I get the job at Stellar, so I can leave this place.
True to his word, Bobby had his secretary schedule an appointment for me with the EMDR therapist today, as well as a wax, manicure, and massage at a studio nearby. When I texted him to say thanks, he replied, I take care of my girl.
His girl.
The words produce an effervescent tension in me. Because I’m not his girl. Not really.
I’m his beck-and-call girl. Not his girlfriend.
I’m his available-for-sex girl. Not someone he spends the night with.
Crap. And this growing disappointment that we aren’t and can’t be more signals that I’m developing feelings for him. Which I never planned to do.
I put the broom away, and my client gets up. The door swings open, and an imposing, dark figure crosses the frame. Bobby's carrying a bouquet of orange roses, and he looks like a million bucks, as usual.
My heart leaps at the sight of him, adrenaline erasing the weariness of working on my feet all day. The ache and stiffness in my knee. Ondrea has gone home for the day, and my client and I are the only other people in the salon. I beam a smile and hold up my finger to indicate I’ll be done in a minute.
He nods, leaning up against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, the flowers tucked under one arm.
“Ooh, who is that?” Joanna, my client, asks.