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It’s time for Charlie 2.0 to come out and play.
14
Beast
What’s this?
My heart thumps once, then twice, then stops, taking a pause before it starts back up again. Miss Charlie Bachman, prim and proper, flowers and pearls, is standing before me wearing…
The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
She’s dressed in a black lace corset, her full breasts fighting to be released from it. Black thigh-highs with lace at their tops, garters clipped into the stockings, holding them up. Her perfect pussy is encased in black silk, the first pair of panties I’ve seen her wear. She’s finished off the perfect outfit with what can only be described as high, black fuck-me boots.
In her hand, she holds a pair of silver handcuffs. She twirls one cuff around her bloodred fingernail. She drags the tip of her pink tongue over her glossy red lips and cocks a brow.
“Hey, there.” Her eyes lock on mine, and whatever that energy is that exists between us passes through me, hitting me in my core. A slow smile of seduction spreads over her beautiful face. She lifts the handcuffs in the air, dangling them from her finger. “After seeing all those toys in your sex room, I thought you might like to play a little game.”
God damn.
But her gaze leaves mine as she makes her way over to me, each step as graceful as a ballerina in those high-heeled boots. I hold back my reaction, my gut clenching as suspicion creeps up my spine. I tell my ever-hardening erection to slow down.
I need time to figure out…
What’s this little girl up to?
“Hey, yourself.” I take her in, from the sleek new style of her hair to the open toes of those boots, bloodred toenails on toes I suddenly want to put in my mouth and suck on. “What’s going on?”
She falters. “What do you mean, what’s going on?” Quickly recovering, her voice drops to that kitten purr she first welcomed me with. She arches a brow. “Can’t you tell? I’m seducing you.”
She stands in the center of the room. I walk around her slowly, taking her in at every angle. My cock isn’t ready for the backside of this work of art. The back of the panties she wears are nonexistent, nothing but a thread hidden between her ass cheeks, her curves completely exposed, framed by the buttoned-up back of the corset and the lacy tops of the thigh-highs.
If I had an artist on staff, I’d handcuff her to the wall and have her painted, wanting to have access to this vision forever. I lock this perfect image of her away in my memory, knowing our time together is limited. I should have sent her back already. People are asking me questions, wondering why she’s staying here, her friends wanting to know when she’ll be back.
Why haven’t I sent her back?
She stands perfectly still as she turns her face over her shoulder to look at me. She gives me a little smile, putting on that sexy façade. “You like what you see?” But behind her eyes, I see that fear, that nervous innocence of a woman who’s not yet quite fully unleashed her sexuality. I see her desire for acceptance.
I see a scared little girl wanting to be loved.
And that’s why I haven’t sent her back.
I want to save her.
I want to make her love me.
Jesus, Nikolaos. Where the hell did that come from? Probably from the same place as that feeling of my heart dropping into my gut when she told me that there was no baby.
God, this is fucked up.
But I can’t stop.
I reach out, brushing her hair over one shoulder so I can kiss her neck. She shivers as my lips caress her delicate skin. I inhale the sweet scent that is just her, a smell I’m growing all too familiar with.
I’m beginning to crave it.
Her hand reaches back for me, rubbing along the back of my neck. Her touch sends the most amazing tingles over my entire body. I run my fingertips down her other arm, her skin bare and cold in the night air. She gives a soft sigh, leaning into me as I kiss her neck in a way I know marks it as mine.
I circle her wrist, tipping the handcuffs she holds into my hand. She barely notices my movement, she’s so entranced by my kisses. She startles, breaking away from me as I clasp the first cuff around her wrist.
