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For all the good girls.
RULE #3: ALWAYS DO AS YOU’RE TOLD—ESPECIALLY WHEN IT INVOLVES GETTING ON YOUR KNEES FOR A HOT MILLIONAIRE DADDY.
His features soften, and the corner of his lip twitches. “Lovely.” That word drips like warm honey trickling down my spine.
Was humiliating myself worth five grand? It sure fucking was.
I zone out while shoveling ice cream into my mouth, thinking about the way he touched my cheek, how strangely gratifying it felt when he said that one word: lovely. He didn’t call me pretty or say, ‘you look nice.’ This was different. It was…approval.
“So…” But I stop myself. I can’t finish the sentence. It’s too close to flirting, too…intimate. Fuck it. “So?” he echoes, impatiently waiting for me to finish. “So, how did I do?” I desperately want to bury my face in my hands or hide under the table or even pull the fire alarm, but if he’s going to be so flippant and nonchalant about this, then so will I. Because I’m actually dying to know now.
“You did exceptional, Charlotte.”
hot
And suddenly, there is no hesitation. The words just travel effortlessly across the table straight from his lips to my ears. “Ms. Underwood, you looked exquisite on your knees.”
hot.
I’m rendered completely and utterly speechless, sitting across from him like a fish with my jaw hanging open, wondering how I went from a fight with Beau on his front lawn a couple days ago to this—his father telling me that I look good on my knees. No, not just good. Exquisite.
RULE #6: AVOID MALLS FOR THE RISK OF RUNNING INTO YOUR EX WHILE HOLDING BAGS OF LINGERIE YOU FANTASIZE WEARING FOR HIS DAD.
The craving to see her on her knees in that outfit is damn near painful.
I use the approximately three seconds of silence to imagine her in that role for me, and it’s the most appealing vision I’ve had in a while. Isn’t life grand like that? The forbidden fruit always tastes sweetest.
If this week has proven anything to me, it’s that I need to watch myself around this girl. She’s too perfect to ignore and too forbidden to be mine.
There must be some unwritten rule that people who know of and partake in the kinky stuff can be kinky and flirtatious around each other. But to the rest of us, they have to modify their behavior. Like we’re the muggles and they’re the wizards. And right now, I hate being a muggle.
“Try it.” “Me? No. I’m not really a ‘sit in a throne’ type of girl.” “How can you know if you’ve never tried it?”
But as my fingers glide along the ridges and peaks of the decor, I correct my train of thought. Why can’t I sit in it? Why have I let my own mind be groomed into believing this inferiority?
It makes me wonder—what’s his kink? Does everyone really have one? Like an astrological sign, aligned with their personality and built into their identity. A secret, dirty astrological sign.
Warmth floods my lower belly as I think about him in that way, to be his woman. To feel his hands on my body, his lips on my skin. To walk into a building on his arm and know that no matter who is in that building, I am the most important one to him. And everything shifts in my brain from seeing him as a father to seeing him as a man.
“Doesn’t everyone have love in their life?” He sounds unimpressed. Squeezing his open hand in mine, I give him a terse glare. “Not just any love, Emerson. It means you’ll have true, all-consuming, intoxicating, life-changing, earth-shattering love. Love you would die for. That you couldn’t possibly live without. Love that makes it hard to breathe. Like you can feel it not just in your heart but in your veins and your bones and your muscles. Everywhere.”
“You’re such a good girl, Charlotte.” My shoulders relax, seeming to melt down at my sides as I gaze up at him, those beautiful words washing over me like warm water. Suddenly, I’m all gooey and compliant, like that one little phrase put me in a trance. He could literally do anything to me in this state.
My cock is growing hard in my pants, and what started as an innocent foot rub to help ease her pain and my conscience, has turned into a sensual peep show and what will be a rough case of blue balls for me later.
The expression on his face says he’d like to put me in my place for yelling at him, and I let my dirty mind wander, wondering what exactly that would look like.
I squeeze his arm as we stroll toward the door. Just before reaching to open it, he adds with a sly smile, “Besides, in that dress, you’ll be the one who needs protecting.”
I turn my head, trying to look away. But a strong hand holds my chin gently, turning my head back to the window. “Watch them. You know you want to.” I do want to. But the ache between my legs is almost unbearable. My knees begin to buckle, and Emerson holds me tighter. “What’s wrong?” he whispers in my ear. “Nothing,” I stammer, forcing my voice to stay level. “You can touch yourself back here, Charlotte. No one can see you.”
why is this SO fucking hot
Emerson is hard, and he’s rubbing his erection against me. “You feel that?” he whispers. “That’s what you do to me.” Me? Not the display of sex all around us? The orgasm cries and sounds of bodies slapping together? Knowing the effect I have on him drives me to shift my hips back just slightly, and he responds with a growl in my ear.
“Touch yourself, Charlotte.”
“That’s it, Charlotte. Good girl.” His words spur me on, sending bolts of lightning through my body. My own fingers rub my clit in fast circles, and it feels so good; it’s a relief. Emerson’s hand rests over mine, but he isn’t touching me. Instead, he grips my hip with one hand and grinds his erection against my backside.
“You are so fucking beautiful. Make yourself come, baby.”
“So perfect.”
“You are stunning,” she says, and my mouth falls open. Me? This woman, this…goddess, is telling me that I’m stunning.
“I’ll see you Monday, Charlotte.” “Yes, Sir,” I reply, and he freezes for a moment, my gaze locked with his as my words echo between us.
“You are such a good girl,” he says, and I nearly melt into the floor.
“You did so good,” he replies in a gravelly tone I can feel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “You like me telling you that, don’t you?” “Mm-hm.” His thumb strokes my chin. “That’s what I thought.”
You made me very proud today. And you are more than enough. You are perfect.
I’m not the kind of girl to turn down a dare.
Before walking back to his chair, he leans in and presses his lips against my ear. I stiffen immediately. “Behave yourself,” he whispers, and a chill runs down my spine. Behave myself? What’s that supposed to mean?
“Do you know why I ordered you to, Charlotte?” “Because you knew I didn’t like her.” There’s a gentle lift at the corner of his lips. “Because I wanted her to know you were more than just a regular secretary. I wanted to make it clear that you are mine.”
“Behave,” he whispers under his breath as he watches me.
“Did I need permission?” The assault returns, this time more powerful than before. “Emerson!” I gasp. He’s wearing a warning on his face as I force myself to relax, but the toy is getting unbearable. “Stop it, please.” But it doesn’t go away, and I catch the way Emerson is watching me. His pupils are slightly dilated and his eyes linger on my face as if he’s fascinated by me. Then he leans forward again, reaching a hand out to run his fingers along my arm. I freeze, the contact making the arousal coursing through my body even more intense, like a tidal wave of…desire. “You can take it,” he
...more
He’s punishing me by reminding me who I really belong to.
With a small gasp, I look around to see if anyone is looking at us. “Eyes on me,” he commands quietly, and I turn my gaze back to him.
“You trust me?” I nod. “I belong to you as much as you belong to me, Charlotte. If I’m your Dom, I’m no one else’s. Don’t ever assume I would do that to you. Understand?”
As excruciating as it was, I loved it.
“I’ll fill out that form for you if you want, but I don’t need to. You want me to tell you that I want to taste you, Charlotte? Because I do. I want to touch you, tease you, fuck you, bend you over my knee and turn that pretty little backside red. There’s not a thing on that list I don’t want to do with you, so you can put the paper and pen away, little girl. Every single thing would get a five from me.”
“Charlotte is an exceptional secretary. Smart and organized. I hope I never have to replace her.” Pride bubbles up as I brag about her to him, and I see the moment his jaw clicks. He doesn’t like me talking about his girl as if I know her better, and I can’t say I blame him. But this jealousy is a two-way street because I feel it too.
“You’re so phenomenal,” and the praise lights a fire in my belly. My panties must be destroyed by now, and I swear it’ll take one touch against my clit and I’ll be done for.
Dear God, please let this be the only man I fuck for the rest of my life because there’s not a chance in Hell anyone else could ever top that.
I couldn’t tell you what color or size the shirt is because my attention is laser focused on Emerson Grant’s naked bum.
