Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Damn that woman had a juicy ass. Firm and round, that backside was made for spanking. Her hair was down, the long tresses brushing the top of her cheeks. He would be able to control her with that hair. He would be able to sink his hand into it and guide her to his dick.
Yes, he should stick close to her to find out if she was playing him in some way.
His dick was talking. Luckily his dick was actually quite the strategic thinker.
She smiled as she greeted Helene and Marie, nodding Durant’s way. Charlie then turned to the bartender. He couldn’t hear her, but the bartender immediately went for a bottle of champagne.
Such a bitch. Thing was, he liked a bitch. He was kind of a bastard. Okay, he was an asshole bastard SOB most of the time. A strong bitch was the only kind of woman who could handle him.
Did he want to be handled?
The question floated out of his mind, and his whole attention was focused on the way Charlie moved and smiled and laughed. Marie said something that had them all smiling as Charlie started to pass out the glasses, and then the gorgeous French actress looked up at her expectantly.
Oh, she was good. Charlie raised her glass and then turned to Helene, saying something that made the younger actress go a lovely pasty white shade. It also made the subby producer’s shoulders slump.
Charlie proved she could keep up with the rest of them when it came to acting skill. She glanced around as though shocked at the reaction to her perfectly nice toast. She was mean, and that kind of got his…nope. He wasn’t going to play this sucker down. His dick was hard as a rock and twice as stubborn. It didn’t matter that she likely had another agenda and had just proven how good she would be at playing the game.
He was going to have her.
Marie tossed that probably expensive champagne right in her sub’s face and then went after Helene in a flurry of ridiculously dirty French. She pointed and screamed and suddenly there were dungeon monitors involved.
Charlie was a gazelle. She leapt over the now crying and on his knees sub, barely avoiding the crop that was suddenly in the Mistress’s hands. She dodged the dungeon monitors and found her way back to him.
He patted his lap. There was no need to go anywhere right now. Not when they had a show to watch.
She sank down and wasn’t so awkward this time. Her arm floated around his shoulders and she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered. “Was that fun for you, Master Ian? Because it was for me.”
She was a bad, bad girl. He turned his head slightly. He made it a habit to not kiss subs. Too intimate. A kiss, he’d found, promised far more than a fucking ever did. A good fuck was a biological function but a kiss…a kiss was an indulgence. He hadn’t kissed a woman since his high school girlfriend.
He stared at her, their mouths so close together. Chaos reigned around them, drowning out the music that pulsed through the club in favor of shouts and cries. Something flew by his peripheral vision. It might have been a butt plug. He couldn’t be sure because all that mattered were those eyes.
All the reasons he didn’t kiss a woman flew right out along with that probably over-lubed butt plug. Suckers could be slippery.
But she wasn’t. She was real and here, and his hand found its way into her hair. So soft. He couldn’t take his eyes off her lips. He leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers, feeling the satisfied sigh that came right before he covered her.
He was in her web now, and he feared there might be no getting out.
Part Three
Three hours after the incident in the bar, forever to be referred to as the French Flying Butt Plug Fight, Ian closed the door on the privacy room and looked back at Charlie. He locked the door, wanting to shut the world out. He’d been patient, but it was time to be alone with her. She was seated on the bed, her eyes seemingly innocent as she stared up at him.
Her breasts were thrust up, the corset shoving them to impossible heights. It also made her waist tiny and gave her outrageous curves. He had zero idea how she wore that sucker for hours and never complained. The same with those wicked fuck-me shoes with the red soles. They made her legs look a mile long, and he couldn’t help but think about how they would look propped up on his shoulders as he fucked her long and hard.
But first he had to slow his roll because he had some questions.