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“You have no idea.”
I smirked, pulling my knees together and shimmying my ruined panties off. The dress tumbled down my legs when I rose to my feet.
I crouched, collecting the panties and cigar holder, about to tuck them both into my uniform pocket.
“Tsk, tsk.” Something like a dark chuckle rumbled through thespeakers. “No stealing, Little Octopus. This is your second strike. Shall I put up signs in each room to remind you of the rules?”
I scowled to the camera. “It’s a cheap cigar holder.”
I’d reached a new low. Standing in an empty room, talking to the boss I wanted to climb like a tree.
And yet, somehow, it felt like a high.
“It’s mine nonetheless.”
“I’ll buy you another.”
“I’m afraid this one is utterly irreplaceable.”
“You’re just pulling at my leg at this point.”
“Sweetheart, I want to dosomuch more if you’d just let me.” He paused. Something like a hoarse chuckle tickled my ears.
I crossed my arms. “What now?”
“It’s not acheapcigar holder.”
“How expensive can it be?”
“It’s not about the price. It’s about the history.”
I resisted the urge to slink into the shadows, finally processing all the antiques this room held.
“What?” I flipped my hair over one shoulder. “Did Winston Churchill own it?”
“Close. Thomas Jefferson. He held it in his other hand as he signed theDeclaration of Independence.”
Well, fuck.
No way could I ever fix an oopsie that big. No point in trying.
With more confidence than I expected, I sauntered to an empty display case, popped off the lid, and tucked the cigar holder inside, along with my panties.
I pivoted to the camera, arching a brow. “Happy?”
“Only after you’re sprawled on top of my Go board, creaming on my cock. The invitation remains open.”
“Are you hard?” I croaked.
“No,” came his instant reply.
“You’re a liar.”
I strode to the door, wondering if he was.
Maybe I wasn’t his type. Maybe he just got off seeing me masturbate but didn’t want to touch me. Maybe he always did this. Hired girls as the help and toyed with them.
What did I know about this man?
