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Two little words. One phrase. Good girl.
“I purchased this dress for you because I knew how it would look on you.” He pauses, lowering his hand to lightly grip around my neck. “And I knew how it would look when thrown on the floor.”
I knew the moment I saw Presley in that dress we would end up here, with her sweet mouth attached to mine, and me, completely devouring her.
“When you show me that you can be a good girl, I’ll reward you. That’s how this game works.”
“Eyes on me, darling. Now, tell me who made you this wet.”
“I want you to stare at her while I make you come.”
His brows furrow, and his head tilts slightly. “Have you never been spanked before, Miss Cartier?”
“Look at how good you look fucking me, darling. You do it so well. Don’t stop,” he purrs, pinching my nipple. “Right there.”
Yes, inside the box is a pair of classic black pumps. But they aren’t just black. They are painted with mini murals of Jason, Freddy, Jack from The Shining, Ghost face, Micheal Myers, everyone in horror. White roses lay in between some of the killers with splashes of red blood that remind me of the Queen of Hearts. They’re perfect. I fucking love this man.
