Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I go to reach for the money, but his hand covers mine, stopping me. My heart does a nervous skip in my chest.
“Want to earn more?” His eyes flare with challenge.
I can do this.
I can endure his weird-ass fantasies because he pays well.
“Yes,” I tell him with false bravado.
“Then wrap those lips around your breadstick. Lick it and suck it. Like you wish it were my dick.” He nods at the bread on my plate. “Five hundred dollars.”
God, he is so freaking bizarre.
I’m about to tell him where to shove his breadstick when I decide to negotiate for more. It’s just a breadstick, not his dick. I can do this. Easily. I’m practically salivating for it anyway. The bread, not his dick.
“Eight,” I counter.
“A grand if you moan my name while you do it and don’t stop when Francis brings our food.” He winks at me. “Easy money.”
“Fifteen hundred and I’ll gag on it.”
He fists his hand, his jaw clenching, the first sign of a normal human reaction. Heat burns down my spine, pooling in my pelvis. I’m not turned on by him. Not a bit.
“You have yourself a deal, little girl.”
Closing my eyes, I attempt to distance myself from him as I pick up my bread. He clears his throat, earning my stare, and shakes his head.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs. “Everything you do, I want your eyes on me.”
A flash of irritation bursts through me, but I obey. Because . . . duh, fifteen hundred bucks. I lick the bread and moan because it tastes that good. It won’t be so hard after all. The most difficult part will be not eating the savory bread.
“Mmm,” I moan. “Winston.”
It’s fake as fuck, but whatever. I’m not an actress.
“Good girl,” he croons, his words wrapping around my heart like thorny vines, puncturing holes in my indifference. Like the predator he is, he senses what his praise does to me and delivers more. “So obedient. It makes me want to spoil your pretty ass. Give you everything you could ever want. I hope you’re making a list, sweet girl.”
I lick the top of the breadstick and then suck on it, secretly eager for more of his words. When I take the bread deep into my mouth, it makes me gag. My eyes water and I sputter. My eyes fly to his. A strange, satisfied glint flickers in his gaze.
“More,” he rumbles. “I like it when you gag.”
It feels stupid, but I force myself to gag twice more on the breadstick. Saliva runs down my chin. He reaches forward with his napkin, dabbing it away, before sitting back in his seat. My lashes are wet from tears because gagging yourself will do that to you, and my throat burns from the garlic. I’m over it, but I promised to continue until Francis returns.
Time passes slowly.
I realize I should have negotiated a start and stop time.
I’ll remember for next time.
Next time?
A tremble of excitement ripples through me. I’m clearly just as fucked up as Winston for agreeing to do this. It’s not completely horrible either. When you’re getting dollar bills thrown at you, and don’t have to take your clothes off for it, it’s actually fairly easy.
Francis appears with two plates. I gag on the bread again. She glances over at me, a confused look on her face, but then quickly moves my bread plate and sets the food down before scurrying off. As soon as she’s gone, I take an exaggerated bite of my bread and chew with my mouth open. Hopefully that will kill his boner.
He laughs, a riotous sound that infects deep parts of me I didn’t know existed. I roll my eyes at him, instead choosing to admire my meal. A nice filet mignon seemingly cooked to perfection. Asparagus and mashed potatoes.
Buzz.
I pull my phone from my pocket to learn he’s just sent me fifteen hundred dollars.
Insane.
He’s positively insane.
But he also might just be my ticket out of the Mannford home.
7
Winston
It’s cute how her cheeks remain pink after the naughty act she did before dinner. All through our meal, I kept quiet, forcing her to think about what she’d done. I’d been hard as fuck watching her try to deep throat the bread and slobbering all over herself in the process. She apparently gives head better than she cleans.
Hans outdid himself as usual on the meal, and the bananas foster cream pie was fantastic. Once Ash is nice and stuffed, I stand and offer her my hand.
“Let’s have a chat. See how much more you can earn tonight.”
Irritation morphs her pretty features, but she takes my hand. So small and soft. I love the feel of it in mine. Rather than let her go, I guide her into my living room over to the L-shaped pale-gray sofa. She goes to sit, but I shake my head.