“And what is that?”
“A card with no limit.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“Brats don’t get to set the rules.” His thigh pushed me forward and I landed against his chest, my hands bracing on either side of his head.
I leaned down until my face hovered just above his, my topknot slipping loose so strands of hair fell around us like a curtain. “This brat just let you fuck her like a blowup-doll for almost four hours. I think I earned it.”
Milo’s hands slid down to grip my ass, squeezing. “You earned a sore pussy and a face full of cum for the stunt you pulled.”
I rolled my hips slowly against his stomach, letting him feel how wet I still was. “I’ll be real fucking good from now on.” My mouth found the crook of his neck, and I whispered, “Likerealfucking good,daddy.”
Milo’s grip on my ass tightened, fingers digging into bruised skin there. He let out a low, tired laugh that vibrated through his chest and into mine.
“Is this a negotiation?” he murmured, one hand sliding up my spine until his fingers tangled in my messy topknot. He gave it a light tug, forcing me to look at him.
“It could be.” I smiled sweetly, brushing my lips against his.
“Ten K monthly limit,” he said.
I pouted, “Twenty,” and countered, brushing my lips against his again, softer this time, almost sweet.
Milo’s fingers tightened in my hair. His other hand stayed possessively on my ass, kneading the sore flesh like he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re fucking greedy, Baby Doll,” he murmured, voice laced with exhaustion and amusement. “I just gave you thirty-five grand a month ago.”
“No. Youpaidthirty-five to bury your face in my cunt,” I reminded him. I rolled my hips again, my pussy rubbing against his abs. “Nowyou’re buyinggood behavior.”
Milo’s eyes narrowed. His hand left my ass and slid between my thighs from behind, two fingers tracing my tender labia. I hissed at the contact — but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Good behavior?” He let out a rough chuckle.
“I can beverygood.” I leaned down and caught his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging gently before kissing him. He still had the taste of rum on his tongue — I could feel it through the mint of the toothpaste.
He groaned as I kissed along his jaw, my nipples brushing against his chest through the thin nightgown. His fingers kept stroking me lazily.
“Fifteen,” he countered, voice rougher now. “And you send me pictures of everything you buy. Every single thing.”
I smiled against his neck. “Twenty, and I’ll model the lingerie for you in person.”
Milo’s fingers stilled. He grabbed my ass with both hands and pulled me higher up his body until I was straddling his chest instead of his stomach.
“You drive a hard bargain for someone whose pussy is currently too sore to take another round,” he said, looking up at me with that lazy, predatory rockstar smirk.
I braced my hands on the headboard and looked down at him, hair falling around my face. “Then maybe I should get something pretty while my pussy recovers. Retail therapy, baby.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You’re going to bleed me dry, woman.”
“Probably,” I admitted.
Milo stared at me for a long moment, grey eyes searching my face. His hands roamed up my thighs, over my hips, then settled possessively on my waist.
“Twenty thousand a month,” he finally said. “On one condition.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too victorious. “What condition?”
