Chapter 11 Milly
I couldn’t.
Not even the new Milly could spend whatever a Ferrari cost, no matter the year. But I couldn’t think of any good reason in the world to not let him wonder about me.
My pussy was slick and on Why the hell did sea urchins ruin my chances of getting properly fucked tonight? What had I ever done to them?
The thought of shopping with a black card was a very distant second place in my mind to these carnal fantasies, but it was much safer than fantasy. I didn’t feel entitled to any payment, I expected late hours, I hoped the work would be interesting enough that I wouldn’t care. And I have spent many worse Friday nights that in the Ritz-Carlton, with a mind-bogglingly handsome man who actually needed me for something, even if it was merely typing.
This was the best date I had ever been on, and I’m the only one who would consider this a date.
He trusted me, a near stranger over anybody else. Granted, he also was about to control the company I ‘worked’ for, making him my boss. He could require this of me as my job, but it was much more pleasant on the ego to think of it as a special and unique trust. Or a date.
Walking around with the card, the feeling that I could walk out and buy a Mercedes and drive it as far as it would take me, or book a flight to Paris and pay the rent in a nice apartment for a full year, for ten years, for as long as it took until I felt like ‘Mildred’, instead of “Milly’, and none of those things would break our agreement, was exhilarating.
The realization that not Paris, not Rome, not even a sleek little Mercedes convertible and the sky full of stars seemed quite as appealing as returning the card in person after I had made the purchases whose very idea made me smile and blush was terrifying, but exciting.
Inevitable.
The store I thought of was right inside the Ritz complex, and the two items I picked out were obscenely expensive for what they were, but probably less than a single tire on a Ferrari. And besides it wasn’t an entirely selfish purchase. He would probably even think it was for him, which is absurd and entirely untrue, but I wouldn’t be the first woman to correct a man about that.
Besides I was sure he that when he trailed off, when a thought escaped him, it was because he was staring at me, my legs, my hips, my chest. I didn’t need champagne the way that felt.
He oozed sensuality, the way he paced while thinking, the rhythm of his voice, the confidence down to his toes on his good ideas, and the excitement mixed with confidence for his brilliant, more risky ideas. Just following how his mind went from one thing to another was breathtaking, and made me uncross and cross my legs and squirm in my seat more than a few times.
When we were done, he was as good as his word, walking me down and instructing the concierge to confirm any activity as pre-approved, and if absolutely necessary. “If the Ferrari neighborhood is approached or exceeded, insist I pre-approved that as well, and patch them to my room if they have to confirm.” He slanted a grin my way as he said it, unlocking the dimples that unlocked every door of womanly restraint I had.
They were not fair.
The feel of his chest, that look in his eyes.
I slipped my skirt off. My panties were damp at the crotch. I touched my pussy with one hand and gasped softly. My pussy-lips tingled hotly at my touch. I spread my feet, parting my thighs and opening my pussy up. My long, slim fingers stroked.
I wondered what it would be like to lose my virginity. The idea of Ty’s huge prick filling me was overwhelming. I knew the time was coming for him to fuck me.
I wanted to him to, I wanted him to possess every single part of my body. And I knew that he wanted it that way, too.
I wasn’t afraid of the pain, a lot or a little- it would probably hurt only for a minute and then feel very, very good.
When I fully gave myself to him, I would become a real woman, his woman. I thrilled at that idea. I could think of nothing more exciting than being his woman.
And besides, I was sick and tired of being a virgin. I was ready to be fucked.