Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
My eyes widened and I almost choked on my drink.
She didn’t falter. “You don’t mind if I just call you Devon, do you? I like to learn people’s names.”
I felt like she was baiting me… almost as if to prove to her that men were scum. It was a test of some sort and I couldn’t tell if it was for me…
Or for her.
“I know your name, Brooke Stevens,” I clarified and she locked eyes with me.
“Good to know.” She leaned forward and her tits were pretty much in my face. She licked her lips and spoke with conviction. “You can look, Devon, I actually want you to.”
“Wow, so this is how it’s like, huh? You come on this strong to everyone?”
Her eyes glazed over, puzzled, but she quickly covered it. “Only to men that I like.”
“How long have you lived in Miami?” I asked changing the subject, but she didn’t move.
“All my life.”
“How long have you known Ysabelle?”
“Eight years.”
“Do you like Miam—”
“Devon,” she interrupted. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“How long have I been a VIP?” she countered confidently.
“Alright… I’m game. How long have you been a VIP?”
She smiled. “I was born one.”
I laughed. “You’re not going to make it easy on me, are you?”
“Is that how you like it? Easy?” She leaned forward a few more inches from my face, and looked down at my mouth, that was mere centimeters away from hers. “Because, Devon, I like it rough. You should come to The Cathouse and I can show you just how rough I like it,” she erotically whispered.
The smell of her peppermint and cabernet breath, had my already rock hard cock, jutting to the point of pain. She bit her bottom lip, waiting for me to make the next move. I don’t know what came over me, but I moved her hair away from her face and she leaned into my hand, never taking her eyes off my mouth. I caressed her soft skin with my knuckles, but stared at her face. I didn’t want her hiding from me, and something inside me told me that’s all she ever did.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” Ysabelle’s voice interjected, breaking our connection.
She subtly pulled away, turning to get up and hug her and Sebastian. I followed suit, pulling Ysabelle into a tight hug and kissing her on the cheek, and shook hands with Sebastian.
We all sat down and the waiter poured them wine. Sebastian ordered a scotch and I ordered another whiskey neat.
“Bella, I love that dress. Where did you get it?” Brooke asked. Her demeanor had changed. The girl went from hot to cold in seconds and it gave me an eerie feeling of how many times she had done this before.
Was this a rehearsed performance she repeated often?
“I’m not quite sure. I bought it on the island, so it’s not designer,” Ysabelle answered.
Brooke cocked her head to the side, almost offended in a joking manor. “What are you trying to say? I don’t wear anything that doesn’t have a label on it?”
Ysabelle rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”
And Brooke shook her head, blowing it off. She turned to look at me with those intense baby blue eyes that could bring me to my knees. “I was just telling Devon here how he should come by The Cathouse and maybe see about getting a membership.”
Ysabelle choked on her drink. “Oh my God, Brooke! I told you to behave.”
She shrugged. “I am… this is me behaving.”
The night proceeded with dinner. When the bill came, Sebastian and I pulled out our wallets, but Brooke grabbed it immediately, insisting that she was paying the bill; much to our disapproval.
We made our way to a bar down 7th Ave. Sebastian and Ysabelle walked hand-in-hand, while Brooke and I were beside them. She was swaying her perfectly round ass with each step she took. Her figure was ridiculous; she was curvy in all the right places.
Men and women’s eyes turned to look at her, to look at both of them. I knew Ysabelle had a pull when it came to the opposite sex, but Brooke was exactly the same. There was something about them that screamed sex and it wasn’t subtle, it was blatant and in your face.
They walked right up to the entrance, not bothering to stop or even look at the line that was around the corner. The bouncer didn’t bat an eye, he unclasped the rope and let us right in. Brooke led us upstairs to a private table that was in the dead center of the place. It was the best table in the house. There was a bottle of Moet and Grey Goose with mixers, glasses, and ice.
A circular, white leather couch surrounded us. The bottle hostess introduced herself immediately and stated that she was our private hostess for the entire night. She said she would get us “anything” we wanted with a nod and a wink. Brooke smiled high and bright, looking over at me and winking.