Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Vince flushes as I draw away. I shoot him a wink and turn toward the rear bar, noticing now that his attention is fully on my ass where I want it to stay.
I’ve got him hooked.
* * *
It doesn’t take long… a few hours and four screwdrivers with double shots of vodka, and Vince is drunk.
I’ve managed to flirt with him for the last hour and a half, lacing dirty talk and innuendo within our conversation and ensuring that his butt would stay glued to the bar stool.
He practically drools as he watches me.
I smile as I walk by, approaching Sam down at the other end of the bar. I tap him on the shoulder. “Do you mind if I take a fifteen-minute break?”
“Of course not,” Sam exclaims, sounding relieved I’ve asked for a bit of time from behind the bar. I know he doesn’t want to lose one of the best bartenders he’s had in a while.
He’s a sweet man, and I wish I could care more about him, but I don’t.
“Thanks.” I head back down the bar toward Vince. He smiles as I get nearer, but I can see he has to squint a little to stop the blurred, drunken vision. I don’t waste any time. Leaning over the bar toward him, I say, “I’ve got fifteen minutes and an apartment upstairs. Care to join me?”
Apparently, Vince isn’t that drunk because he asks, “Is it going to cost me anything?”
I wag a finger playfully. “I’m not that kind of woman,” I tease, although I used to be. On occasion, I’ve had to spread my legs for money, but now I make it slinging drinks. “Only going to cost you a little bit of time.”
“Then let’s go,” he says, lurching up off the stool.
I meet him at the end of the bar and take his hand. Winding my way through the crowd, we head to the back hallway, past the restrooms to a staircase that leads up.
The boards groan under our weight as we ascend and leave the loud music and chatter of people behind.
At my apartment, I let go of Vince’s hand to pull out my key. He steps into my backside, his hands going to my waist. His breath is hot on my neck as he slurs, “You going to be a good girl for Daddy.”
I push the door open and step through, turning to face him as he stumbles in. My hand goes between his legs, and I find him soft.
Typical.
“I don’t know.” I work at his belt, giving him a playful look, and I lick my lower lip to hold his attention. “Have you been a good daddy?”
“The best,” he assures me.
“You going to let me tie you up and have my way with you?”
“Oh God,” he mutters with a groan. “Please say that’s not a joke.”
“It’s not.” I grab his hand and lead him to my small bedroom that contains nothing but a rickety iron bed and one night table. All my possessions hang in the closet or are still secure in my suitcase. “Get naked.”
While Vince stumbles around shedding his clothes, I pull out some fishnet stockings I sometimes wear with short skirts.
When I turn back to face Vince, I find him standing there naked, swaying. His dick is still limp, which is fine by me.
“Get on the bed, Daddy.”
He complies, a lecherous grin on his face. When he’s on his back and in the center, I crawl over him in a straddle, my skirt rising indecently. Vince’s hands come to my hips to try to push it up more, but I knock them away.
“No, no, no,” I chide. “Wrists together and above your head.”
“Whatever you say, darlin’.”
I work efficiently, wrapping the fishnets above his wrists and tying them to the iron bars. The bed is so old and wobbly, he could probably wrench one of the bars loose if he tried, but that’s not going to be an issue.
Settling down on his soft stomach, I press my hands to his chest and dig my fingernails in just a touch. He moans from the bite of pain.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” I ask, even though I know the answer. There’s no way he’d ever let me tie him up if he did.
He squints at me, the alcohol muddying his brain. “I know you?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
I can barely get the words out. “7493 Melody Lane.”
The jolt of shock that courses through his body is palpable, and his vision clears. Lifting his head off the pillow, he peers at me hard, trying to see through the platinum hair and hollowed-out face.
Vince is still not quite able to make the connection, because I’m not the only girl who lived at that address, so I supply my name for him. “Nyssa.”
It takes a moment for him to search his memory, but then his eyes widen when he matches the name with my new face. I can read every emotion flickering across his face.