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Bryce: You look hot. It’s nice of you to have made the effort, but your white dress won’t stay on too long. My cock is already hard, and I’m waiting for you in my room.
He was here, watching me?!
Why is that such a turn on?
The door is ajar when I arrive at Bryce’s room. Although I’m unsure what’s about to happen, I push open the door and step inside. Bryce is sitting in the dark and the city lights are the only source of light allowing me to make out his features.
“Close the door and come closer,” he commands.
I do as I’m told.
His gaze takes in every inch of me.
“Did you use the money I gave you yesterday to buy those shoes?” I don’t have time to answer. “They are so very sexy. I hope you’ll keep them on when you show me how perfect the underwear I got you looks on your curvy body. Before I forget, your money is on the table in the black pouch.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you like the underwear? I hope it fits?”
“I do and it does.”
“Show me.”
“In the dark?”
“Remove the dress. I’ll see what I need to see.” His tone is abrupt.
I drop the handbag I’m still clinging to on the table near the black pouch containing my money for the night and walk back to where I was standing.
“I already have a hard-on, don’t make me wait any longer,” he says in a raspy voice.
I’m nervous and my hands are shaking. I’m about to remove my dress as if I’m at home alone, but then I remember why Bryce is paying me.
He wants sexy, not ordinary.
As I get ready to turn up the sizzle factor, I unleash my inner bad girl.
“Make me want to beg for it, Amanda.”
Message received.
The deep sound of his voice makes me wet. I remove the dress slow and sexy, with my back facing him, so he can enjoy the cutoff lace briefs he bought for me.
“So damn hot,” he says, as I reveal the underwear.
When I turn around to face him, he’s towering over me, barefoot.
Did he leap from the chair he was sitting on to where I’m standing?
His fingers trail down the side of my face and along my jawline before encountering my lips. When he pushes a finger inside my mouth, I shiver as my nipples harden beneath the lace bra. He pulls me closer, and his hands slide over my shoulders and down the front of my chest until he reaches my breasts.
“You should never wear a bra. Your tits are too perfect,” he says as he unhooks my bra, releasing my breasts. “Put your hands up above your head.”
It’s as if his words cast a spell over me, and I follow his command without resistance.
He leans down to whisper in my ear, “I want more of you. I didn’t get enough last night, but I was afraid if I tasted more of you in one shot, I wouldn’t be able to recover.”
He pulls a silk tie from his pocket and tightly wraps it around my wrists.
