“Step inside, Charlie. Find out who you are.”
She gulps a little, but she turns forward and takes a step inside, and then another, until she’s fully in the room. I follow her in and shut the door. “Good girl,” I whisper.
Slowly, she swivels, taking in the full room and lingering on the camera waiting to tape her. Eventually, she faces me. “I’m not your girl,” she proclaims, but there’s no jut to her chin, no squaring of her shoulders.But you want to be.
I’m used to it. I have good looks, even I know that,and normally I’d ignore that heat in a woman’s eyes, but this time I don’t. Huskily, uncharacteristically, I can’t keep the desire from my voice as I say, “Did I say you were?”
Her lips twitch to the side, and she peers down at my shoes. “You implied it.”
I stride to her, hands itching to touch her to see if she’s as soft as she looks, but I curl my fingers into fists and stand a few inches away from her. “Everyone under my employment is mine. You better get used to belonging to someone else.”Belonging to me.
She fights another shiver, but her shoulders shake from it anyway. Bravely, she raises her gaze to mine, and she doesn’t challenge me further. “What now?”
Her lips are so close that all it would take is a fraction of bending forward to see if she tastes as good as she smells. But I don’t touch; I know better because, not only is it my job not to, but I know she’d be impossible to resist from that point on. No. No, we didn’t come in here so I could touch. We came in here so I could watch.
And damn if I’m not looking forward to it.
“Get undressed,” I order.
“Where?” she asks, looking for what she surely thinks is a dressing room somewhere hidden in the shadows of the room.
I take a step back and then another because her chest is starting to heave from adrenaline, and her pebbled nipples are just an inch away from grazing my chest.
To busy myself, I head to the camera and adjust its angle as I say, “There.”
“Right here?” Her voice squeaks.
Again, I raise an eyebrow at her, telling her she’s about to be naked in front of me anyway. If she’s that scared to undress in front of me, then her telling me that she’s onlyhad one partner before has to be true. The thought thrills me that she’s so inexperienced.
I should convince her to leave, I really should, but I’m not a good man, and at this point and the probability of what’s to come, I can’t help myself.
There are two things I love when it comes to this business: To watch and to teach. Though both have started to get boring now that I’m this far deep in the business, I know they won’t be boring with her.
Releasing a shaky breath, she starts to pull the straps down from her shoulders. I ignore the camera entirely, unable to take my eyes off of what will surely be one hell of a show. She stares at the floor as she reaches around and unzips from the back. The sound of the zipper fills the room, and my cock stiffens further in my jeans.
The black dress slithers down her skin like a silk ribbon, revealing everything underneath. It pools around her heels like a shadow, and my mouth waters at what I see. She’s wearing a black lace bra and a matching thong, and the thong’s straps rise high, accentuating her round ass.
Her fingers tremble as she reaches around her back once more and unclasps her bra. My heart hammers a little harder as the straps slide down her arms, and she drops it beside her. Her tits are full, and I swear to God she doesn’t even need the bra. And those nipples? A perfect dusty pink. I can tell even in the dark. They’re tight little peaks that tighten further in the slight chill of the room.
My lips part at the sight of them. Thought after thought of what it’d feel like to drive my cock between her tits fill my mind, and I clench my jaw to dispel the imagery and, instead, focus on her pushing down her thong.
When she stands fully upright, she steps out of the dress, and I get a good look at what she offers. Her curlsrope around her breasts as if they need to be hidden from view now that her clothes are gone. She doesn’t tan – there are no tan lines. That olive skin is all her own. And that pussy? It’s perfectly waxed.
I’m impressed; she takes good care of what she looks like when she’s naked. Or maybe she did that for this job. Either could be true, but I don’t give a shit what the answer is.
She whirls to face me, hands trembling at her sides, and asks, “Heels?”
It takes me a minute to figure out what she’s asking, but when I come back to reality, I give a little shake of my head. “Take them off. And the glasses.”
“Why? I thought –”
I know what she thought. Heels are common in these videos. I turn back to the camera and flick it on. “You’re raw in this business. I want to exploit that. Take off your heels, and remove your glasses.”
Her heels thunk to the floor, and I pivot toward the dresser. Opening it, I gesture for her to come over. She pads across the floor quietly and comes to stand beside me. God help me, it takes all my self-restraint to not put my palms on her.
Sliding out of my jacket, I nod toward the inside of the dresser. I don’t miss the way she scans my torso, my exposed arms, before I murmur, “Pick one.”
“What?” she asks, and then her attention returns to the open dresser drawer. Inside are various sex tools and toys, anything that’ll get a woman off. “Oh,” she adds in her next breath.
