Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
As much as I loved my birthday and all the attention that came with it, I cringed through “The Birthday Song.” How was one supposed to react to a room full of people, some of them naked, singing to one?
“That’s embarrassing,” Charlotte whispered, and took my hand.
I laughed and shook my head. “You think this is too much.”
“Your whole life is too much,” she said wryly.
That hit me in a sore spot I hadn’t expected. Had spending this time here soured her opinion of me? When we’d met, I’d been a guy in a baseball cap trying to avoid an alligator. She’d treated me like a regular guy, not a billionaire who needed to be impressed. After this, would she see me as some needy asshole who wanted constant, lavish adulation?
The interminable musical interlude ended in a round of cheers. Champagne corks popped around the room and waiters moved into position to offer glasses to the assembled guests.
“Let’s all raise a toast to the man of the hour,” the DJ added.
And then “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow” started up.
A waiter approached us with a bottle of champagne, and Charlotte clapped her hands. “Wait, wait, don’t open it! There’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
She dropped to her knees in front of me, unhooking her top, and for a moment I thought I was about to get a much, much better toast. But she tossed the bra aside, flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, and said, “Do that thing where you open it, and it splashes everywhere. It’s so filthy.”
“That’s what’s filthy about tonight?” I reached for the bottle. The waiter had already begun to loosen the muselet. I finished, then gave the bottle a hearty shake before popping the cork loose with my thumb. The carbonation exploded a stream of white foam from the mouth of the bottle, all over Charlotte’s perfect tits.
Okay, yeah. I got the filth inherent in the visual metaphor. The fact that it wasn’t the substance it was meant to mimic somehow made it dirtier than if I had come across her chest myself, and whoops of laughter from the crowd followed as she rose up on her knees, took the bottle, and ran her tongue around the neck.
Wheels rumbled across the theater floor, and I looked down to see Miranda and a few other staff members moving the enormous cake into position as the singing ended. Everyone raised their glasses, the DJ played a drum roll, and the top of the fake dessert flew open.
“I knew it,” Charlotte chided me slyly.
“Wait,” I said, because I knew exactly what would pop out of that cake.
A gorgeous, large-breasted woman with deep golden skin and a lean white man with dark hair jumped up enthusiastically, revealed from the waist up.
“Well played,” Charlotte acquiesced.
“That’s not the best part.”
The man’s eyes closed, his head lolled on his shoulders, and the woman clung to him, her long, silky black hair falling into the frosting. They were both lost in ecstasy, unable to hold back. The man gripped the messy rim of the cake top, gave it a push, and it fell open, revealing two more women inside, on their knees, sucking and fingering frantically.
The two recipients must have been getting a full work up since the moment they’d all piled into the ingenious contraption, and they reached their climaxes almost at the same time; the woman’s knees buckled and her mouth dropped open in a moan we couldn’t hear over the delighted reactions of the guests.
Charlotte wound one arm around my thigh and looked up at me with adorably pleading eyes. “Let me give you my gift now.”
I reached down to caress her face. “In a little while. We don’t have to stay long, but I should at least thank people for coming.”
“No, I mean, here,” she emphasized. “Right here.”
She climbed to her feet and walked away from me without another word, right down to the big cake. Staff members were helping the performers down and closing up the top.
As I watched in disbelief, Charlotte leaned over, pressing her body into the frosting and bracing her arms on the rigid structure beneath. She looked back at me over her shoulder.
“Well?” She asked.
How could I refuse?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
(Charlotte)
I waited for him, my tits sliding in the shockingly cold and deep frosting. There was no cake beneath, but something sturdy, which was I was grateful for. Otherwise, I might slide and end up on the floor.
It was a risk, I knew. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to follow through. But my horniness bolstered my courage as he slowly made his way down the stairs and the crowd eagerly closed in around us.
He stepped up behind me, his hands moving between us to open his zipper. “Are you sure about this?”
No, not at all. Which was what made it so thrilling.