Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
The elevator doors slide soundlessly open, and I push myself off the wall, letting my momentum carry me out into the hall. The past doesn’t matter right now. In a few days, I can go back to the endless slog through grief and working on my mental and emotional health. Tonight is about letting go. Letting everything go.
My dress feels obscenely tight as I stride down the hall to the corner penthouse suite. I smile a little to myself. No normal hotel room will do for me, not on this night, not with this man. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make this entire experience an event. I even went so far as to plan for success, stocking the room with things we’d need to play out the fantasies that have plagued me for far too long.
Inside the hotel room, I stop and look around. I dropped my things up here earlier, of course, but I only left a single light on the desk turned on. The entire space is bathed in shadows, making it feel both intimate and almost intimidating.
Take off your dress.
Bend over the bed and wait for me.
The memory of Devan’s words slide through me, propelling me forward. I wind through the living area and head for the massive master bedroom. My place in New York is bigger than this, but only barely. The sheer opulence is why I chose this hotel, this bar, this room. It feels very grown up and nothing like the partying I’ve done on every other adult birthday.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
I consider the bedroom and then move to turn on the two lamps on either side of the bed. Enough light to see, but not enough to combat the feeling of illicit deeds done in the dark. Even better, the night sky turns the floor-to-ceiling windows into a mirror. My heart picks up as I look at myself.
I’m conventionally attractive, though my true gift is being extremely photogenic. It’s the gift that’s paved the way for me to be financially independent, even without the trust fund in play. Add in my tragic backstory, and sponsors are just lining up to be featured to the millions of followers I have on social media.
None of that matters tonight.
I don’t care what all those strangers think of my looks, my body.
I only care what Devan McGuire thinks.
It’s more difficult than I’d like to get out of my dress. It’s a good thing I’m flexible or I’d be screwed. By the time the fabric slithers to the floor around me, I’m breathing hard and regretting my clothing choices. How much time do I have left? Impossible to say.
After the briefest internal argument with myself, I hang the dress up. It’s a custom design by a woman who rarely ships outside of her local city; if it gets ruined, I won’t be able to replace it even with the resources at my disposal.
I dressed carefully for tonight. I’m wearing a dark red designer balconette bra with the sheerest lace, designed to put my breasts on display more than conceal them. My garter belt and panties are the same crimson shade, but I went with nude stockings. The dress was long enough that stocking weren't required, but I love the look of a garter belt with nude stockings, so I indulged myself. Silver strappy heels complete the image.
I leave the heels on.
After the briefest hesitation, I leave the panties on as well. They’re bikini style, but sheer, designed to tease in the same way the bra is. I’m covered, sure, but I might as well be naked.
The bed is situated against the wall across from the door, so when I bend over it, I will be framed by the soft light of the lamps. There’s no point in procrastinating. I know I’m going to follow Devan’s orders and wait for him, no matter how long it takes. I have more than my fair share of pride, but it has no place in this moment.
With a slow inhale, I bend at the waist and brace myself on my forearms on the bed. The air conditioning teases my exposed skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. As tempting as it is to close my eyes, I’m a showwoman at heart. I turn and look at my reflection in the window.
The position and heels have my ass in the air, my body a long line of invitation. My breasts are currently trying to escape the lace of the bra, and my hair is a messy waterfall on the dark comforter. I bite my bottom lip and spread my legs a little. I can’t see that angle from here, but Devan will.
If he ever shows up.
No, I can’t afford to think like that, to let doubt creep in. He wouldn’t have sent me up here if he didn’t intend to follow, to… How did he put it?