Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I almost whine for a refund, but my words clog in the back of my throat when a second after securing my hands to the chair, Caleb’s palm connects with my backside before his crotch soothes the sting of his spank.
“Dear John,” I gabber out when he dances behind me like we’re at a gritty nightclub. He grinds against me, rolls my hips with his, then works the chair like it’s a stripper pole, and the whole damn time I can do nothing but drool in awe.
He’s going to make a killing, and I’m one hundred percent jealous.
Not about the money but how many women he’s going to grind his crotch against.
I stop wallowing in self-pity when Caleb asks, “Are you ready for the big finale, Jessie?”
Usually, I hate nicknames, but I like Jessie. That probably has more to do with who’s saying it than its meaning.
I’d let Caleb call me anything if he does it while grinning at me like he is now. He’s either loving my muted response to his provocative performance, or he’s thoroughly enjoying himself.
I hope it’s a combination of both.
“Hold on… you want me on the floor?” I query between bouts of breathlessness. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Caleb,” I murmur as he makes my back one with the carpet before raising my hands above my head. “They may not be in a wedding dress, but most brides spend a pretty penny on their bachelorette outfit.” I choke on both my spit and my words when Caleb flattens his palms to each side of my head before he does a handstand. “Fuck the outfit.”
I breathe out heavily when his upper body strength is displayed with the utmost brilliance. His body practically floats above mine until the beat of the music changes. When it hits the chorus, the hip grinds start all over again, and every inch of my body sets on fire.
I go between moaning and giggling when Caleb tosses me around like a rag doll. He finalizes his performance on the floor, but instead of leaving me limp on the floor, he uses my body as if it is a prop. He arches it, bends it, and flips it over.
Heidi’s bachelorette party was the first I’ve attended, but I’m reasonably sure his performance is on par with some of the best performers available. I am having the time of my life, and he’s wearing his Monday-to-Sunday underwear.
He doesn’t even need a sparkling G-string.
By the time the song ends, I’m sticky, sweaty, and in desperate need of a vibrator.
I’m on edge, and it appears as if I’m not the only one noticing.
Caleb peers down at me with humored eyes and a cheeky yet still somewhat reserved grin. “What do you think, Jessie? Do I pass the test?”
Since his crotch is still aligned with mine, I can’t talk through the buzz roaring through me, so I nod instead.
“Good.” His smile sets off fireworks inside my womb, but they turn out to be duds when he rolls off me to join me on the carpeted floor. “Because I really need the money.”
His whispered words reveal they weren’t for me, but I respond as if they were. “Are things really that dire?”
He peers up at the ceiling for what feels like forever before he eventually slants his head my way. I smile in gratitude for his honesty when he sheepishly bobs his chin.
“Then I guess it leaves you no choice. You need to—”
“Buy bedazzled trunks?”
I laugh so loud my words are almost inaudible. “Them, and…” I build the suspense with a pause. It does that and so much more. It makes the lust crackling between Caleb and me blistering hot. “You need to hire me as your manager.”
“What?” He sits up so fast he makes me dizzy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jess.”
“Why?” When he moves into the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water, I follow him despite my wobbly legs. “You deserve top dollar.” I gesture my hand to him before returning it to me. “I’ll ensure you get it. And…”
When I pause again, Caleb mutters, “What’s with all the pausing? Just spit it out already.”
I hit him with a frisky wink, glad I have him on edge, before disclosing, “You need me there.” When he arches a brow as if to say, why, I add, “You can’t tie her up before the performance. It won’t matter what you’re wearing. The instant you walk on stage, the groping session will begin. If I’m there, I can get her on stage, tied up, and reminded of the contract stipulations before your performance, and I’ll only take a teeny tiny thirty percent cut of the profits.”
“Thirty percent? I’m not giving you thirty percent for tying someone up!”
Since he went straight to the point I knew he would, I pretend there’s nothing more to discuss but my retainer. “Fine. Ten percent but you buy burgers on the way home.”