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Chapter 11
Varden
Damn if my cock wasn’t throbbing and ready to rage. I had Saffi over the railing, ass in the air. Even in the dim light, her pale skin burned bright pink with the outline of my merciless hand.
She responded beautifully to my touch, better than I had even hoped. She was a lean girl, but her behind was pretty as an upside-down heart. A beauty. Supremely smooth and round.
Spanking the ass of my attorney’s young daughter. How fucked does someone have to be to do that?
And yet. I guess I had my answer.
“I think you like that,” I murmured in her ear, undeterred by any call to reason.
And all she could do was mumble in reply.
My fingers ventured further down her ass, between her legs where they met with hot, creamy wetness. She was soaked.
I wiggled one finger between her pussy lips and found her opening. I entered her just until I heard her gasp and whisper a small “Yes.” I slipped another finger in, and she wiggled her hips to drive them deeper.
With a third finger in her, I began to pump. Slowly at first and then faster when she bucked back against my hand.
Fuck, yeah. That’s a hot little slut.
“Are you gonna come on my hand, beautiful? C’mon, give me something to lick off my fingers.”
Those were the magic words. She pushed so hard against my hand we both nearly fell. I still had a grip on her hair, so her movements were limited, but she bucked like a wild animal, coming, her sex pulsing, her moans catching the attention of the entire first floor.
As her orgasm wound down, I slipped my fingers out. I turned her to face me and wrapped my arms around her so she wouldn’t fall.
Unbelievable. My attorney’s daughter just came on my hand.
After a moment, she picked her head up from my chest, pushing my arms away. “I have to get home.”
She pulled her panties and jeans up, and when she was put back together, she started toward the door.
I reached for her arm. “What are you, Cinderella or something?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Can I get your number?”
She looked at me for a second, then reached in her purse and scribbled on a scrap of paper. She thrust it at me and whirled around, almost falling down the last couple stairs.
As she approached the door, Miss M tried to engage her. But she headed her off and disappeared before being trapped by conversation. M’s usual languorous expression was replaced by something I’d never seen. Was that worry? Or frustration?
She turned to me.
“Do you know that woman? Tonight was her first night here,” M said when she’d caught up to me.
No shit.
I shook his head. “Nope, sorry. Never seen her before in my life.”
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