Tonight, it all goes down. Keely’s going to get a lesson in submission that she’ll never forget -- all nine massive inches of it. And dammit if that girl won’t be on her knees and sobbing for me by the time I finally give her what she needs.
That pussy belongs to me now, and I’m going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.
THIRTEEN
KEELY
I don’t know how I make it through the rest of the day, but finally, six o’ clock rolls around and I drive home, my brain still spinning.
Vaughn.
He fills my thoughts, overwhelming my senses. Even left alone, I can feel him. His touch blazing across my skin. The imprint of his fingers digging into my thighs. His mouth...
I have to gasp for air, remembering the pleasure that crashed through me from his tongue. I can’t imagine what’s in store for me later, how anything could possibly be hotter, feel any better than the heaven he’s already shown me, but Vaughn promised, it was only the beginning.
Tonight...
I shiver, my nipples growing hard under my clothes just at the memory of the look in his eyes. A promise. An ultimatum.
I surrendered, let him take control—and he took it.
I don’t know anything about him, but I can’t pretend any longer, I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t care about the consequences. That man is a force of nature, and I’m through trying to stand in his way. I don’t care what that makes me, I just know I’ve never felt a desire like this before.
I want to feel alive. I want to feel.
I let myself into my apartment, already feeling the sick giddy kick of anticipation in my stomach. I have an hour to get ready, so I take a shower, carefully washing every inch of my body.
“I want you wet and ready for me.”
Vaughn’s words echo in my head. Well, that won’t be a problem. I spent all day in a damp, aching haze, feeling the whisper of cool air between my thighs where my panties used to be.
I never realized going bare could make me feel so sexy, so daring. Like I was hiding a secret only he would know.
Drying off, I go to my wardrobe. I know that whatever I pick will be crumpled on Vaughn’s bedroom floor before long, but I still want to look good for him. I deliberate for ages before picking out a simple black silk dress. It fits me like a glove, with tiny spaghetti straps, and a deep V that laces up in the back. I usually wear underwear and a slip with it, but tonight, I leave them off: sliding the fabric over my naked body.
It settles in a whisper, shockingly sensual against my skin. Already, my body is sensitive, my nipples swollen with anticipation, aching for his touch.
I slide on a pair of strappy black sandals and pin my hair up, applying a coat of red lipstick. I haven’t worn it since I bought it on impulse, years ago, but now I like the way it looks: a bold slash of red against my pale skin.
There.
I stare at my reflection, feeling a tremor of nerves. I look all grown up.
A woman.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. But as I take a deep breath, I feel a thrill coursing through my bloodstream.
Just tonight, I’ll be wanton, reckless. Just tonight, I’ll discover what it’s like to let someone else take control and live life on the edge.
I collect my purse and jacket, and leave.
* * *
Vaughn’s address is up in the Hollywood Hills. I drive the narrow, twisting road with my heart in my throat. Just a week ago, I would have never agreed to this, never put on this dress and gotten in my car. But now?
I couldn’t turn back if I tried.
I reach his turning, high in the canyon, and head off the main road, down a short driveway.
Wow.
The house is modern, a white cube set precariously on the edge of the hill, looking out over the whole city. There’s a silver sports car in the car-port, so I pull up behind it, turning off the engine.
I thought I would be nervous when I got here. But instead a hot anticipation fills me. This may be the craziest thing I’ve ever agreed to—and I can’t wait to start.
I get out and carefully make my way down the path to the front door. It opens before I even reach for the doorbell.
“Hello, Keely.”
My heart stops. Vaughn is standing in the doorway, smiling a heart-stopping smile. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans that hug the curve of his ass, with a crisp white shirt open at the throat to show his tanned skin and a dusting of dark hairs.
He looks incredible.
“Come.” He beckons me, and I take a nervous step forward into the house.
Music is playing, some sultry jazz song, and when I look around, I feel even more out of my league. The house is open-plan, with stream-lined modern furnishings and vibrant abstract art. The whole back wall is made of glass, with jaw-dropping views of Los Angeles, lit up in a neon grid below us.