However, Greg nods and stands up with way too much enthusiasm. I stand too, leading the way toward the stairs.
I swear to god, he better not touch me.
It’s not even that he has a dick between his legs—I don’t give a shit who people want to sleep with. That’s their business. But nobody touches me except my girl. It’s how it’s always been, and it’s how it’ll always be.
We take the stairs because I’m pretty sure if I get into an elevator with him, his hand will be on my cock within three seconds, and I can’t risk that yet. I need to get him into the room first.
When we finally make it to the door, relief fills me as I slide the key card.
Almost done.
I inhale deeply, my eyes briefly closing as I step inside, and I hear the door slam behind me.
Greg steps toward me, already undoing the buttons on his shirt.
“Finally,” he breathes out, reaching for me.
Oh, fuck no.
My hand shoots out, catching his wrist in a grip tight enough to make him wince. “Are you in a rush or something?”
“You’re hot, and my hole needs fucking, so shut up and do it already.”
I have never been so offended or aggressively objectified in mylife. At least buy a man dinner first. Maybe attempt some light conversation. Ask about my hobbies, or at least pretend you care about my feelings.
But no, Greg went straight to the hole.
He digs into his back pocket, pulls out a picture of him and his wife, and places it face-up on the nightstand. When he reaches for me again, I move first, shoving him back onto the bed and pinning him there, my body close enough to sell the illusion.
He smiles up at me, satisfied and hungry for something he’s never going to get.
In his mind, this is foreplay.
In mine, it’s foreplay with my wife, and he’s just the unfortunate clown who doesn’t realize how badly he’s misunderstood the situation.
The black ties are already strapped to the bedposts, something Greg clearly thinks I did for him.
Cute.
I secure his wrists one at a time, tight enough that he’s not getting out without help. You’d think I’d just handed him the keys to a sports car and a second chance at life, the way his hips jerk up like he’s trying to hump the air.
He lies there naked after I strip him out of the rest of his clothes, hard, flushed, and straining for my attention.
“I always knew you’d be a top,” he says, grinning up at me.
My body instantly settles when I hear the soft creak of the bathroom door behind me.
I climb off the bed slowly, trailing my fingers along the footboard as I move away from Greg, his lust-filled eyes following my every step.
“You gonna call me Daddy?” I ask, barely holding back my laughter.
I can’t pull off that shit with a straight face, but fuck it—might as well give Greg some really vivid memories to reflect on when he thinks back to this moment.
“Yes, Daddy,” he whispers. “Please, Daddy, get over here and fuck me like a slut.”
Jesus Christ.
I click my tongue and fold my arms over my chest. “How am I supposed to fuck you while your wife watches?”
