Oh. Fuck. I take in a deep breath. No, I gasp for air. I can’t draw it in fast enough, that’s how turned on I am with that request.
“Do it, please. I’m asking nicely. Bend over, like you’re going to tie your shoe, but keep your legs straight.”
I nod yes without turning around and then gulp down another fortifying breath. I bend at the waist and the air rushes in as my ass opens and exposes my soft folds to him. His hand rubs the round curve of my ass and then dips between my legs. “Will you ever be satisfied?” he asks as he flicks my clit.
“I was just wondering the same thing. I’ve had more orgasms in the past hour than I have all year.”
His fingers withdraw from between my legs and then he bends down and he traces them across my lips. I open my mouth and taste my own sweetness. “I want to eat your pu**y so bad right now, but we have to discuss the contract and have dinner.” He pauses and I can almost imagine the smile on his face at procuring my compliance. “And an impromptu lesson in obedience.”
Before I can ask what that means, he grabs my hair roughly and pulls until I stand up and face him. “Good, girl,” he says once I’m looking him in the eye. “Does it hurt when I pull your hair?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “It’s a little uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt.”
“Good,” he says as he leans in. His scent, the soap from my shower, the leftover cologne from when he dressed this morning, and even the slightest hint of something sweet that I can’t place—all these things rush in as his lips gently touch mine. “It’s a delicate balance, Grace. The pain and discomfort playing off the desire and pleasure. Pulling your hair and smacking your pu**y should make you uncomfortable and turned on at the same time. Otherwise I’m doing it wrong.”
I gulp and nod. “It does. I mean, you’re doing it right.”
“Good.” His lips touch mine again and then he pulls back. “We’ll never get out of this apartment if I don’t stop touching you, but I’m finding it very difficult.”
I place a hand on his chest, fully intending to push him away, but I feel his beating heart and I’m distracted. It’s fast. A staccato rhythm that betrays his excitement inside, while the cool man on the outside maintains control. He places his hand over mine and I look up at him. “I make your heart beat faster.”
“You do,” he says with a smile. A genuine smile. “Now get dressed and we’ll eat. I’m starving.” And then he turns and walks down the hall to retrieve his clothes.
I take my attention back to the box. The satin is smooth and silky under my fingertips. I pull lightly and the bow instantly dissolves into a river of pink ribbon that looks so delicious I’m trying to think of a reason to keep it next to my skin.
“Hurry,” Vaughn calls from the bathroom.
I nod, even though I know he can’t see me. It’s to keep myself on task, because everything in this room is making me think of sex. I’m imagining that ribbon tied around my head, covering my eyes. Or binding up my wrists, so Vaughn can f**k me constrained.
Jesus, get a grip, Grace.
I lift off the lid and pull back the thick tissue paper to reveal the complete outfit I was wearing on the island. The bra, the shoes, and the bag included.
“You left,” Vaughn says from behind me. “Before we got the details worked out. And this was the outfit I imagined you in when that happened.” When I turn he’s buttoning up his cuffs and something about that strikes me as hot. “I want you to wear this tonight because we are striking our deal. There are no panties. Go bare. I’ll need access.”
The tingle between my legs is immediate, but I turn away and try to keep my mind on what I’m doing. He watches me, I know, but he stays silent as I fasten up the button on the crisp white shirt and then pull on the flirty chiffon skirt and cinch the belt around my waist.
His hands wrap around me, taking me by surprise and making me teeter for a moment as I’m trying to step into the shoes. “I’ve got you, baby.”
“Thank you. Just give me a moment so I can check my hair and—”
“No,” he replies, pulling me towards the door. “You look well-fucked. Well-fucked and satisfied. Just the way I like you.”
We leave the apartment, me sans purse even, but I don’t even bother objecting. He’s in charge, I’m sure that involves making sure I get home. So I just give in. I surrender and let him lead me down the short hallway towards the stairs. I expect to go down, but he points up.
“Dinner’s on the roof, sweetness.”
I’m caught on the affectionate term he just used, so I don’t even bother to ask any questions about that, just follow him up the flight of stairs that lead to the roof. Standing at the door is a middle-aged man dressed in a smart, black suit.
“Mr. Asher,” he says in a low voice. “Servers have been notified.”
“Thank you, Robert.”
And then Robert opens the door and Vaughn whisks me out into a fairyland of white lights and beautiful flowering plants. Tropical plants, I realize as I take it all in. And palm trees. There’s even a shallow pool of water with a sand beach.
I laugh and look up at Vaughn’s delighted face. “How did you do all this?”
He shrugs, a very boyish gesture that tells me he’s pleased and relieved at my reaction. “Money does this, Grace. Money can do anything. But none of this would matter if you hadn’t seen it. If you hadn’t appreciated it. So I’m thankful to have money, because it helps me make moments like this. Come on,” he says, urging me forward. “Let’s sit at the table.”