Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
He’s the boss. I’m essentially his employee.
But I can’t seem to separate emotion from sex. I’m definitely falling for Bobby. Or I want to. And I can already see the heartbreak looming when this ends.
Lexi
After work, I take myself to L’amore, the restaurant where Bobby told the staff I could dine on his dime. I figure Bobby wanted to take me out, so I’m letting him.
I’ve never dined alone before, especially not at an upscale place with “love” in the name, but I hold my head high and muscle through it. The maitre d’ and the waiter remember me without my reminder, which goes a long way to making me feel comfortable.
I order a glass of wine and a Caesar salad with chicken and add two new photos to my Instagram page–Lexi Styles Hair. I try to post a few photos of new haircuts or highlights every week. My Instagram account is actually how I found out about the Stellar position. Someone at Stellar had seen my latest reel and sent me a message inviting me to apply.
It sort of felt meant-to-be, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up.
The wine is delicious, and the salad fills me up. I’m lonely, but trying to feel okay with being alone. This is what it means to belong to Bobby. I’m at his beck and call, but he’s not available to me.
It makes me even more glad I “let” him treat me here tonight.
If eating here is one of my perks, I need to be cashing in on it since I don’t get the full package.
I shove the pity-party thoughts from my mind and focus on enjoying dinner.
It was still a great day, regardless of the availability of my...what is he to me? Boyfriend? Owner? I prefer owner to boyfriend, actually.
When it’s time to leave, the waiter assures me that my meal is taken care of, but I leave a big cash tip, since they made me feel like a princess.
When I get home, I find a bouquet of lavender roses in a vase waiting outside my door. Attached is a note of congratulations from Bobby. My eyes mist, and I wipe all resentments from my mind. I don’t need to be a glass half empty kind of girl. Or look a gift horse in the mouth. Or whatever other metaphor fits the situation.
I text him to thank him for the roses and let him know I ate at L’amore. I try not to feel disappointed when he doesn’t respond. At eleven, I give up waiting for word from him and change into my pajamas, turn out the lights and go to bed.
I wake to the sound of Bobby’s voice. “Hey, baby.” He climbs over the covers, reaching for me. His hands find my breasts, stroke down my body.
“Hey,” I murmur groggily as my body warms under his lustful stroking.
He slides one hand down the front of my pajama shorts to cup my mons. “You’re getting a spanking tonight,” he murmurs in my ear.
I go still. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” His fingers glide over my wet pussy, and I relax. “I just want to smack that sweet ass of yours.” He rolls me to my belly, pinning me down with his body. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me, or do I have to wait until you’re naughty?”
I moan. His words make me squirm, Or maybe it’s his hands. My body ignites under his possessive handling.
“You’re the boss,” I purr. There’s a certain power in being asked, an excitement at giving him something he wants, combined with the thrill of fear at knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt he enjoys delivering pain.
He burrows his thick fingers into my hair, massaging my scalp before closing his fist and tugging my head back. “Mmm. That’s right, I am the boss of you, aren’t I, sweet girl?”
“Yes, Master,” I moan.
He nips my ear with his teeth. “I love it when you call me that.”
I love it when he says, I love it. His approval excites me the same way the words “good girl” make me warm and tingly.
He climbs off and pulls the covers back. My heart rate increases when he lifts my hips into the air, so I’m on my knees with my face and chest still pressed into the pillow.
Bobby strokes his large hand over the curve of my ass. “Who do you belong to?”
“You.”
He comes off the bed and stands beside it. “Are you mine to do anything I want to?”
I turn my head to face the direction of his voice, blinking into the darkness. “Yes.”
“To fuck any way I want to?”
“Yes.”
He moves near my head, and I hear the sound of a zipper. “Open your mouth.”
I reach for his cock, but he catches my wrist.
“No hands,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. “I want to fuck your mouth.”