Nick was stone-faced when he came in and slapped a twenty-pound note onto my desk. I stared at it for a moment before looking up at him. We’d been watching Ella when a man handed her something, and she slipped it into her pocket. Nick had gone to check it out.
“A tip,” he said flatly.
“Why are you giving it to me? Give it back to her.”
“She won’t take it.”
“A cash tip is acceptable. She isn’t on the floor yet,” I said.
“She won’t take it back from me.”
I rolled my eyes.
Outside the bedroom, he always had some kind of problem with Ella. Inside it, he was absolutely fine banging her six different ways to Sunday.
Ella walked in then, and she suited the deep red and gold skirt suit perfectly. It was paired with a gold silk blouse, and she’d chosen black slingback heels today.
Alec came in behind her and locked the door.
He didn’t wait. He simply dragged her toward the couch and sat her on his lap.
Nick walked between the couch and my desk, stopping to stare at them.
“Get your clothes off and crawl over to me like a bitch,” he said to her.
I pushed my chair back to watch.
Alec smirked and smacked her arse.
“Up you get,” he said.
Her expression remained neutral as she slipped her jacket off and laid it neatly on the couch beside Alec.
I could’ve stopped it, but I was invested in seeing how well she followed his instructions.
Ella kept her eyes lowered as she worked on the small pearl buttons. She tugged her blouse free of her skirt, the silk slipping down her arms to reveal her red lace bra. We all loved her lingerie and bought it for her in abundance. Alec had issues—he bought all sorts of fucked-up shit for her. I drew the line at the gimp mask.
Next was her skirt. It slipped to the floor.
She stepped out of it and bent down to pick it up.
I almost groaned when I saw the cut of the lace pattern hugging her arse cheeks.
It all came off and ended up on the couch.
Without a word, she dropped to the floor and crawled. Alec’s eyes were glued to her arse as she moved.
She knew what we liked.
We were dominant men—it wasn’t difficult to understand.
She raised her head—not in arrogance, but with poise and grace—placing one hand in front of the other as her breasts swayed lewdly.
It wasn’t easy being a classy whore.
But it came naturally to Ella.
“You look exemplary down there, Ella,” I murmured, rising to admire her properly.
