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Her hand reaches out one more time and gives me a few clumsy jerks before moving past me, as she calls up to our boss.
“Coming Mr. Sawyer. I was just coming…” She pipes cheerily, a new and confident edge in her voice which makes me smile to myself.
I zip myself back in, and making my way up the stairs behind her, I make sure my face is only two inches from that perfect ass of hers.
My eyes only moving to appreciate her childbearing hips as she walks up the stairs.
Poetry in motion, which only makes my freshly stowed meat harder than ever, and ever more eager to fill her to the hilt.
“Oh. You’re here,” Sawyer frowns, glancing at his watch, sweaty and looking like he’s just woken up.
Using a few fingers tucked into the back of her skirt, I keep Becky in front of me for now.
Only letting her loose once I know my arousal isn’t showing so much.
“Early is good, but it doesn’t pay any extra,” Sawyer cautions me, annoyed at my grin which I must admit is hard to swipe.
“Something funny?” he snaps, looking from me to Becky, the thought of what must be obvious flashing through a tiny part of his mind before he shakes his head.
No, of course, they weren’t. They couldn’t have been.
Yeah, we were, and I would have claimed her there and then if you hadn’t interrupted, you drunk pig.
As much as I want her to have five stars everything, the sight of her creamy little slit filled with her sweet little fingers up to the second knuckle was just too much for me to stand and watch.
“C’mere Dillon. Need a word,” Sawyer puffs, reaching for a cigar and striding ahead of us, making his way back through the door for the special member’s.
I guess I’m supposed to follow him.
“Remember Becky,” I warn her, letting my hand trace lightly between her thighs. “Mine now. And I’ll tell you when you can and can’t play with it from now on.”
She shudders a breath, nodding hard and I hear her sigh as I leave the front lounge area into the one under Sawyer’s office.
He motions me to a seat, a drink already on a coaster on his side of the table. A yellow folder next to it with a familiar looking pink sheet peeking out from it
“She’s shown you around?” he asks, disinterested until he gulps his drink down.
“Oh, I saw everything,” I tell him with enthusiasm, smiling again at the memory I’ll cherish forever.
“Good,” he smiles back, his eyes glazing from more than vodka.
I can tell he’s still congratulating himself on hiring the most badass looking doorman in history and making a profit from it.
So what. I’ve got what I came for and before I’ve even started my first shift.
All I need to do now is take care of that two faced bastard Matt, get my business back, and Becky and I will be home free.
I know I’ll be claiming her before then though.
With a floor show like I just had, there is no waiting for a second longer than I have to before I make it official.
Show her how a real man claims that pretty little cunt of hers, not using small fingers either. Ten inches of solid steel is what she needs.
I can’t believe it, but I can totally believe it. Hell, I can still taste her on my breath.
Her sweet little pussy. That perfect ass and those perfect round tits.
All mine. For me.
Mine.
“I just need you to sign a couple of things here…” Sawyer mutters, breathing in heavy as he fishes for some paperwork as I resent the interruption to my thoughts.
It’s clear the man’s a night person, and only operates when he’s at a level of drunk that would probably kill most people.
“Insurance, tax. And… Our good friends at the probation office need a privacy statement signed as well as that pink slip from before. Making it official,” he says cheerfully, giving a quick and totally fake smile before filing everything away once I’ve signed my name.
Tucking it under his arm, he stands slowly and eyeing the door I came through, tells me how things are from now on.
“You stay on that side of the club. Do your job and don’t ask any questions. Members only, capeesh?” he asks, his sudden shift in mood changing the features in his face.
“They’ll have a password, changes every night. You’ll get paid in two weeks,” he clips, spinning on his drunk ass heel like a prima ballerina, completely in charge now that he’s had a skin full and makes his way back to his office.
“What’s the password?” I call out after him, not surprised when he turns and gives me a dark look.
“Ask the girl,” he growls. “If I yell it out to you it’s hardly a fucking secret is it?”
