TWO
Jordan
She might say she only remembers seeing me once, but I’ve spotted this succubus countless times over the years that I’ve used this place for business. She’s grown up a lot, found her confidence, and that makes me want to strip it all away.
The first time she came in here, she hid her curves behind sensible jeans and a baggy tank top. It took me a while to recognize who she was: my old school buddy’s kid sister. But tonight—fuck me dead—the woman has everything on display in a tight dress that’s far too short for my self-control.
Time to test the goods before I invest.
“I didn’t bring my car,” she declares as she follows behind through the parking lot.
“Good,” I say flatly. “Wouldn’t give a fuck if you had anyway.”
She doesn’t respond, and yet, one quick check in my periphery and I can tell she still watches me, just like I told her to.
She’ll do just fine.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.”
“Nowhere in particular?” she asks as I hit the button to unlock my car.
“Wherever I can fuck you senseless without giving a free show.”
Her eyes widen as she takes in the beauty that is my Lamborghini. Or maybe it was what I said? Who would know?
“What do you do for a living?”
“Don’t ask loaded questions.” I open her door and indicate she should get her ass on the seat before I reconsider the whole free show idea.
“Drugs,” she mumbles as she drops onto the soft leather. “It’s always drugs.”
I chuckle while I shut her in and round to my side before I reply. “It’s not drugs.”
She frowns as I shut my door and then start the engine. “I find that hard to believe.”
“What else is everyone addicted to these days?”
Her brow knits as I pull out of the parking space and head for the road. “Money?”
“Good answer, but no.”
It takes her two sets of traffic lights before she clicks. “Technology.”
I answer her with a smile, nothing more. She knows enough; if she’s smart, she’ll work the rest out on her own the moment she takes a look around my house.
The twenty-minute journey home has never felt so long. Her smell fills the car: sweet flowers mixed with the salty sweat of lust. By the time I switch the Lambo off in the lower garage, I’m ready to drag her out and fuck her on the polished concrete floor.
“Can I use your restroom?” She looks up with doe eyes as I open her door for her.
I shouldn’t have looked. “Of course. Second door on the right when you get inside.”
Her hand moves to the small purse she brought with her.
I hold mine out and wriggle my fingers. “Give it to me.”
“Why?”
Five seconds of silence and she hands it over. I lean back against my Range Rover as she sways that sexy butt indoors and breathe a sigh of relief. Addiction is one hell of a thing.
Her phone is ridiculously easy to hack. I scroll through her Instagram first, and then check her Facebook. Corinne Seaworth, twenty-four, and an ex-personal trainer. Explains the tight little body, then. Four hundred and eight friends, plus six thousand Instagram followers. No nudes in her recently sent messages—disappointing as well as promising—and her brother is in her top three. Family remains important then.
I drop the device back in her purse and head indoors to find Corinne in the wide hallway, patting her hands on the side of her dress. The swell of her ass causes my dick to harden, the icing on the cake the way she tucks one hand under her hair and fans it out over her shoulders before she even realizes I watch her.
“Everything okay?” She holds a hand out for her purse.
I reluctantly pass it over. So many more things I could have learnt about her in there.
“Perfect.” I step past her and lift my hands to my shirt, undoing the buttons as I head for the bedroom.
Her heels don’t echo after me.
“Problem?” I stall, my back to her.
The click of metal on tile indicates she obeys. “No.” Although the waver to her voice tells me she doesn’t understand why.
My shirt hits the floor in the doorway, the clang of my belt buckle echoing around my vast bedroom as the sensor lights come on. Dull amber tones wash over the room, just enough to see where I’m going but not so bright as to ruin the ambience.
She hesitates in the doorway, knees bent as she retrieves my shirt. “No small talk, huh?”
“I thought we already did that?” I continue to remove my pants, slowly, as I watch with keen interest while Corinne sets my shirt over the back of the dark gray wingback in the corner.
“I guess so.” She places her purse down on the seat cushion, and then lifts both hands to the fastener on the side of her dress.
My pants hit the floor as her zipper hits the end of its run. Her touch drifts to her shoulders where she eases the straps off, and yet, her back still faces me. I stride toward her, my footfalls heavy enough to make her jolt to attention.
“Eyes. On. Me.”
Corinne turns, her hands over her breasts as she holds the dress to her. Tears wet her cheeks. Disappointing.
I swipe one away with my index finger. “What’s this for?”
“I …” She shrugs. “I guess I’m nervous.” She shakes her head, clearly frustrated.
“Drop it.” I flick the fabric of her dress.
She frowns, and yet her hands relax so that the garment slides to the floor. Matching lingerie. Good.
“Leave the shoes on.” I nod toward her platform heels. “Now sit your ass on the fucking bed, and make sure you spread those goddamn legs.” I hesitate and give her a moment to let the instruction sink in before I add, “By the time I’m finished with you, embarrassed will be the last word on your mind.”
If she’s the type to run, now is when she’ll do it.
Her heels track a slow path through the carpet to the bed; her shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath she takes.
Corinne not only gets on the bed like I damn well told her to, but the goddess spreads her legs so far apart that the only logical question is, “Were you a cheerleader in college?”
“Gymnast for eight years.” She cocks one eyebrow and wriggles from butt cheek to butt cheek to get her legs even wider.
I make it far as the edge of the bed before she stops me with her brash statement. “I’m only here because I’m on one hell of a rebound, understood?”
“You’re here because you want to be fucked,” I correct her. “Don’t cheapen yourself by acting stupid.”
A wash of emotions flick across her face before she settles on anger. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
“We’ll see about that.” Might surprise her with a visit to work this week. We’ll see how good she is, first. “Wait there. Don’t move.”
Her brow knits, and yet she stays put while I walk out of the room and shut the door behind me.
I’ve got a job to do, and if she’s worth any more of my time she’ll have that fit little pussy still firmly planted on the bed when I return.
Let the test begin.