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“Ms. Underwood, you looked exquisite on your knees.” Even if I had a voice at this moment, I wouldn’t know what to say. Instead, 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.
“Now imagine how it would feel to have someone kneeling at your feet. Worshiping you, bowing to your presence.” I try to imagine it, but it feels so wrong. I can’t seem to shake this idea that a man belongs here and I belong at his feet. Fucking patriarchy. “Well, go ahead,” I say with a wry smile as he steps in front of me. Let’s see how he likes to be challenged. He lets out a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he faces me and drops to his knees on the velvet cushions with his eyes on my face. As he lowers his gaze, I watch him bend his head downward and bow down to me, his lips near my black
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“Don’t you think I’m a little old for a piñata?” Sophie asks, while I’m standing on a ladder in the middle of the skating rink. “Ummm…I’m six years older than you and I’m gonna whack the fuck out of this thing and enjoy every second of it.”
Charlotte was made for me. This pussy was molded for my cock, swallowing me up so eagerly like it’s putting a fucking spell on me. Making me never want another pussy again, which I don’t.
