Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
But he pushes my hand away and starts the car.
I lean back in my seat, confused, and a little stung. “So you can get me off, but I can’t return the favor?” I ask.
In response, he switches on the vibrator.
I cry out as it starts. He positioned it right against my G-spot, damn him. It’s all I can do to sit up straight now, as it feels like my pussy is on fire with pleasure.
“I told you, Bonnie. You’re my little cum-slut. Which means tonight, it’s your job to come for me, and nothing more. Now.” He turns the key in the ignition, as I pant for breath. “Which way am I going?” He smiles at me, enjoying my torment.
I grit my teeth and manage to answer with a direction. Then I lose my voice again, gasping in pleasure.
The whole ride is like that. I lose track of how often I come. Eventually I’m leaning against the door, unable to sit up straight, this feels so intense. Every now and then, usually when he asks me for further directions and I actually manage to respond, he taps the remote he keeps clutched in his hand, and the vibrator amps up again.
By the time we pull up outside my place, I’ve soaked through my panties, this dress, probably the seat beneath me too. I can’t even tell. I’m shaky and still yelling in another long, drawn-out orgasm, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain now, as the car pulls to a stop.
“This is you, Bonnie,” he says, and I stare at him, wide-eyed. Surely he can’t expect me to get out of the car right now. Like this.
But he just smiles. “I’ll see you soon.”
I reach between my legs to pull the vibrator out, but he catches my wrist, and locks eyes with me.
“Leave it in until you get inside,” he orders.
I swallow hard. Stare him down. Is he serious?
He looks it.
So I climb out of the car on shaking legs. I don’t know how I manage to stay upright, especially when I’m halfway to the door and he starts making it pulse—on off on off, over and over with every step I take. I fumble my keys a few times, glare at him over my shoulder, but eventually I manage to get inside. Once I’m there, I must be out of range, because the vibrations stop all at once.
I lean against my closed door, listening to his car drive away, waiting for my heart to stop racing and my pussy to stop pulsing and for sensation to return to my extremities.
Only once my blood returns to my head do I realize that I didn’t even ask him about paying me again. I couldn’t think about business, not with all those mind-blowing orgasms taking control.
This is business, yes. And he’s still winning.
Fuck. I am in so over my head.
6
“Right, Miss Slutty McSlut-Slut, out with it.”
I squint through a mess of curly bedhead hair at Erin. She’s bouncing around the tiny kitchen, boiling water for coffee and burning some scrambled eggs at the same time. “Huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. Don’t play the innocent act with me; I’ve tried it way too many times myself for that to work. Sit,” she adds, sternly, and I take a seat at the two-person countertop we use for a mail holder and occasional breakfast stand. She plops a plate of congealing eggs in front of me, along with two slices of toast, one overburnt and the other barely cooked. Yeah, okay, we could use a new toaster. And maybe a better frying pan while we’re at it.
But I’m too exhausted to even contemplate making food for myself right now, so I dig in with a nod of thanks. “Not sure what you mean,” I try through a mouthful of toast, even though I know by now it’s a futile effort.
Erin rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, a gesture she has perfected over the years. “You came home at like, one in the morning last night. After getting all dolled up around noon, no less, for your secret internet date. Come on, do you think I’m dumb? When was the last time you were out that late without me?”
“Uh, every night that I work?” I point out, taking a swallow of the coffee she drops in front of me next.
“Okay, fine, when was the last time you were out that late without me on your night off?” she clarifies.
I shrug one shoulder and dig into the eggs. “I went out to eat.” I can’t do this with her. She’ll ask a million and one questions, won’t let up until I give her details, and the minute she asks me where we met, what am I supposed to say? Oh hey, I took your advice and signed up for that sketchy site you mentioned where people auction off their virginity. He bought mine. Oh, right, because also, I lied about prom, I’m still a virgin. And, he still hasn’t even paid me and I already did way more with him than I planned to . . .