My body trembles as my release sends pleasure rushing through every inch of my body. Stars burst to life in my vision, and I drop my phone to the bed beside me, unable to keep my hold on it.
By the time I come back to myself, my breathing is labored and my body tingles with the remnants of my orgasm.
A sad fact of my life is that no one can make me come the way he does, and he’s nothing more than a stranger behind the screen.
When I can finally move my body enough to retrieve my phone, I find another message waiting for me that has heat rushing to my cheeks.
CJP: God, what I would give to watch you come around my cock.
Wildcat: How’d you know I came?
CJP: Because I just blew my load all over my desk at the image I painted, and I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t be far behind me.
Wildcat: Well, you’re right, I did. I still can’t feel my legs haha.
CJP: I did my job then *smirk emoji*
CJP: I should get back to work, but I want to hear all about this date when you get home.
CJP: Wear the shimmery one. You look delicious but respectable.
I laugh at the description, but there’s a part of me that’s sad he won’t be sitting on the other side of the table tonight.
Every time my feelings for him deepen, I think it can’t get any worse, but I’m always wrong.
Wildcat: Thanks for your help…with the outfit and the orgasm.
CJP: My pleasure, Wildcat.
How am I meant to get ready for this date when I still haven’t regained control of my body?
Three hours and two meltdowns later, and I’m ready to leave the house.
Mr. Whiskers kept close for moral support while I proceeded to glue my eyelashes to three different fingers and cover myself in so much lash glue it’s a miracle that I can still blink without my eyes gluing shut.
So in short, I’m a disaster.
I snap a quick photo of myself for CJP. He helped me pick an outfit, so the least I can do is send him a photo. Feeling brave, I include my ruby red lips in the photo and click send before I can change my mind.
It may not seem like much of a risk to most, but after years of posting, I’ve never once slipped up, never sent a single image that had any identifying marks included, so this is a big step for me.
Wildcat: Thanks for your help this afternoon, with the outfit and with the other thing *wink emoji*
Wildcat: *sent a photo*
I meet Ken, my driver and personal security, much to both of our dismay, at the front door, and he gives me a quick nod.
I hate having someone on my tail at all times. It’s probably my least favorite part of being a Mafia princess, and there are so many things I hate about this life that I wouldn’t have a hope of counting them all.
Ken has been my guard since I was a teenager, and I’ll admit that I gave him his run for his money when I was young and still testing the boundaries.
Then I went off to college, and he was forced to sit through lectures, go to college parties, and allow me to make all the mistakes any student should at least once in their lives, all while keeping me alive.
Yeah, it makes sense that he’s not my biggest fan, even if he would put his life on the line without hesitation.
Personally, I think he actually secretly likes me, even if his monotonal manner would never give it away.
I slip into the back of the town car and force a breath into my lungs.
