Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
I shrug.
“Then I guess you know what you have to do,” comes my low voice.
The beautiful brunette pauses again, still biting her lip. But then she rolls her eyes and exhales loudly.
“Fine, I’ll go with you to this party. I don’t even know you, and this is going to be awful, I can already tell. But do I even have a choice?”
I merely wink at her before turning.
“No, you don’t,” is my low reply. “But I look forward to the pleasure of your company, Kitty. Meet me here at nine p.m. tomorrow night,” I say before taking out my business card and setting it on the counter. “Wear something sexy.” And then, I leave the store without a backwards glance. However, I can feel Kitty’s eyes on my tall frame and broad back, and I know she wants to investigate this dirty party … and I want to investigate it with her too.
3
Kitty
OMG, I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door to the store last night! I swear I did, but then again, sometimes the latch doesn’t work so well. You have to yank it closed, and then test it with a few pushes and pulls to make sure that it’s really locked. Why, oh why, didn’t I double check last night?
Because now, I want to kill myself while simultaneously patting my own back. Meeting Clay Towning was completely horrific, but also unexpectedly delicious too. He’s gorgeous, with black hair and penetrating blue eyes, and after I looked him up on the internet, my mouth fell open. Evidently, Mr. Towning is a billionaire businessman with a different pretty girl hanging off his arm every night. So why does he want me, dowdy Kitty Purcell, to accompany him to this secret party?
Of course, the answer to that is easy. Mr. Towning saw me diddling myself with not one, but two lollipops, my privates pulsing and clenching for him to see. When I washed myself afterwards, there were indeed smears of candy all over my privates, and not only that, but my little back hole was red-rimmed and raw from the way I’d been pounding it with the cherry-flavored sucker. And Clay Towning saw it all! OMG, I could die of embarrassment right here.
But instead, I’m standing in front of A Mouthful of Sweets, decked in a sexy, low-cut black dress. I have no idea what Clay meant when he said, “Dress sexy,” so I merely did the best I could and went with a trusty LBD. The sweetheart neckline emphasizes my décolletage, and the hem comes to mid-thigh. Even more, I’ve paired it with six inch heels to give it a vampy look, which so isn’t me. But then again, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I need to do whatever’s necessary to get out. If Clay Towning wants sexy, then I’ll give him sexy.
Suddenly, headlights flash on the deserted street, and I watch as a shiny blue sports car rounds the corner. I’m momentarily confused, but then the vehicle comes to a stop right in front of me, and Mr. Towning gets out. My pulse races as my eyes widen. He’s even more handsome than I remember, dressed in a dark suit that emphasizes those broad shoulders. He’s huge and so tall, making me feel positively petite by comparison.
But I can’t let him get the upper hand.
“Fancy car,” I smirk, gesturing towards the unnecessarily expensive Porsche. He grins.
“What can I say, I splurged,” Clay remarks. But then those blue eyes turn towards me and flare with heat, running up and down my frame.
“You look gorgeous, even better than I remember,” he rasps. But then he whips out something from behind his back, and before I know it, the infuriating man slips a black leather collar around my neck before snapping it in place.
“What?” I ask, drawing back. “What is this?”
He shrugs, his big fingers lightly skimming along my décolletage as he takes in the contrast of the ebony leather against my creamy skin.
“It’s something to keep you safe while we’re at the club,” he says in a casual voice, although there are darker undertones that make my core sizzle. “Just a symbol.”
I gasp, staring at him.
“But why? How?” I stammer. “What does it mean?”
Again, one big finger sweeps over my collarbone, as light as a butterfly.
“It means you belong to me for the night,” he says in a voice vibrating with energy. “So that you’re safe. No other man, nor woman, will touch you without my permission first.”
Slowly, his words take root as he ushers me into the fancy sports car.
“Touch me?” I manage in a choked voice. “So we’re going to a sex club, you mean?”
Clay slips into the driver’s seat, nodding as he pulls the vehicle away from the curb. “Yes, I thought you understood that,” he says without taking his eyes off the road. “That’s one way to put it, but we prefer to use euphemisms as appropriate. They’re called play parties most of the time, although as you’ve guessed, the guests definitely do indulge their sensual sides.”