She nods. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Good. I prefer to tell you what to do anyway. Start with handing me the envelope.” I turn up my palm.
Vanessa’s eyes well with tears.
I palm her cheek and hook a hand on her hip, bringing her closer so she stands between my legs. I lean in and sniff her gentle fragrance. Vanilla blossom. My already-straining dick is about to rip a hole in my new suit. Nobody wants a holy suit. Besides the pope (bless him).
I hover my lips over a soft place behind her ear and kiss her there. “Do you think I’m ugly?”
“No.” Her breath hitches when I bite her earlobe.
“Some time spent with you would be lovely. I think you’re pretty, baby doll, and I’d like to fuck you. What do you say?”
“A one-night stand?”
“Sure.” I lie because she’s past the fifty-percent likes mark, so I’m at over fifty-percent certainty about wanting to see her again. It depends on how much I pay for the pussy, what terms she negotiated with the Italians, but most of all on the Daddy word. I’ll find out the terms tomorrow. Jesus. My tomorrow is already looking booked with Vanessa-related business.
From the corner of my eye, I catch her hand as she picks up the envelope. I squeeze her hip and lean back, then accept thefolded piece of fine paper. Very fine paper. Thick, beige, with intricate watermarked designs on it. I’ll pay good money for this pussy.
A line of zeros appear on the paper, and I take out a pen from the inside pocket of my suit and sign, then tuck it back inside the envelope before pocketing the vaguest contract ever.
If I didn’t think the mobsters had hidden cameras here, I’d make her spread herself for me over the bar. But I know security is watching the current feed. “Where is your coat?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “We were told not to bring one.”
I sling off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She turns up her face, baby-blue eyes wide and apprehensive.
I peck her lips and linger, watching her eyes flutter. She likes me, though she’s fighting it.
“Do I make you wet?” I ask.
She nods.
“Can I check?” Of course I can.
Vanessa nods again.
I brush a thumb over her nipple until it perks up. Then, stepping away, I head for the door and open it. She remains standing, looking a little confused. “Shall we?” I wave my arm to indicate my car and Brady, my driver, leaning against it. The lady walks past me, and I toss the keys to Brady, who locks the club door by the time we settle in the back of the limo.
“Where to, sir?” Brady asks.
“Wherever we can eat at this time.”
“Fine dining, sir?”
“Medium. Italian.” Italian because I want to keep reminding my lady of what she signed up for and what kind of people she’s gotten herself involved with. I don’t want her to forget lest she become sassy and doesn’t do what I say. I like her cute, and reluctant, though not feisty. Feisty doesn’t do it for me. I prefer not to waste time fighting her while I train her.
Brady closes the divider, and I unsnap my cuff links and place them in their holder. I roll up my sleeves, then lean back. “I’d like to check if you’re wet now. Show me.”
Vanessa’s eyes widen. Poor virgin nanny. I grip her ankle and place her foot on the cushion. The tiny skirt rides up and shows me a bit of her mound. “Now the other,” I say.
She rests the heel of her right leg on the cushion and closes her knees. Little pussy lips peek from between her legs, teasing her Daddy. Me. I’m her Daddy until told otherwise.
“I can’t see your pussy.”
Reluctantly, she spreads her legs.
There it is. Little glistening pussy. “I do make you wet.”
