Time to shut that voice up for good.
I reach out and yank her to her feet. “That was your warm-up,” I growl, grabbing her hand and moving it to cover my hard, straining cock. “This is the main course. Are you ready for me?”
She bobs her head in an eager nod. “Yes,” she gasps. “Vaughn, please.”
Damn, I love to hear her beg me.
“Go to the bedroom.” I point her down the hall. “Lay on the bed, spread your legs, and wait for me. And no touching,” I order her, slipping my hand between her legs. I give her a swift, possessive stroke, making her moan.
“This is my property now,” I growl, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure. “This pussy belongs to me. You don’t come again until I’ve taken my pleasure.”
“Yes, Vaughn.” She gives me a breathless smile, swaying against me. “Whatever you want. Just tell me what to do.”
“Oh, I will.” I circle her clit and then tweak it hard. She squeals with pleasure. “I’ve gone gentle on you so far,” I warn her. “But believe me, I’m hungry now. Ravenous for your sweet pussy. I’m going to fuck you so good, this tight little cunt will never be the same.”
Keely looks dazed, panting for me, dripping with desire.
Oh yeah, she’s ready.
“Go.” I order her. She turns to follow my order, and I can’t help but land another stinging slap on that perfect ass. Keely moans.
“Legs spread, hands above your head,” I remind her. She scampers down the hallway to my bedroom like her feet are on fire.
Ready. Willing.
Mine.
I go pour another drink. I could tell myself it’s to make her wait, but the truth is, I need a moment to regain control. I feel like a fucking teenager, so fucking horny for her I’m about to shoot my wad the minute I slide inside of her.
Unacceptable. I want to pound that pussy all night long.
Get your shit together, Vaughn.
I gulp down the whiskey, and take a couple of breaths. Better. She’s probably moaning for me already, those sweet thighs spread and trembling. Desperate to touch herself. But she won’t. She knows better now than to test me, not after that spanking I delivered earlier.
She’ll wait until I’m good and ready to fuck her.
I switch the music, playing it through the speakers I have wired all around the house -- even the shower. Hmmm. There’s an idea. I think I’ll have to fuck her there too when I’m done; pressed up against the glass, soap suds sliding down her body.
We’ve got all night.
I pour another drink and turn to head back to the bedroom. Then my phone rings, loud in the room.
I check the screen. Unknown number. Seventeen missed calls.
Fuck.
I answer. “This better be a goddamn emergency,” I growl before the other person can speak. “Because I’m ten seconds away from getting laid and you do not want to fuck with me right now.”
“As long as the lady in question is Miss Fawes, we won’t have a problem.”
It’s the client, that slimy asshole. I feel a brief flash of guilt that he’s the reason I’ve got Keely spread out on my bed, but I push it away.
We’re way past that now. She stopped being just a job to me a long time ago.
“Yeah, it’s Keely,” I answer, going to the window. I look out at the city lights below. “I told you. Nobody turns me down. She’s begging for it, just like I said she would.”
“Good,” he says shortly. “Remember, I want evidence. Photos or video. Some of her used underwear if you can.”
Who the fuck is this guy? I think of Keely, waiting for me in the next room, wanting me, trusting me. Mine. I haven’t felt this way in years. I never thought I would again.
The client clicks his tongue impatiently, bringing me back to the job at hand. “Do you want me to stand around talking to you, or do you want me to get the job done?” I ask.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says, and hangs up.
Finally.
I stalk down the hallway, and push open the bedroom door with a crash. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?” I ask, but my words die in my throat.
She’s not here.
I look around, towards the bathroom, but there’s no sign of her. The patio door is open, night air blowing cold.
Then I hear a car engine. I rush out the bedroom and sprint to the front door. I throw it open in time to see headlights. Keely reverses out of my driveway with a screech.
“Keely!” I yell.
But she’s already gone.
SEVENTEEN
KEELY
I drive home, tears streaming down my face, flooding my eyes until I can barely see the road in front of me, my heart aching so much it feels like my chest has been cleaved in two.