Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I wanted to say no.
But she’s so determined.
I know she’s trying to find herself, and I feel all the more the villain for allowing her to step into this world. But I can’t mix my personal feelings—which are most uncomfortable—into this.
I know her being on her hands and knees will get her all the hits from being positioned like that alone. I know she’ll go for a high price. But all I can do is imagine what she tastes like and how she’ll scream in pleasure.
Fuck. I need a release.
She arches her back and angles her face, the light bouncing off her ass.
Fuck.
I undo my belt and let my cock spring free. The relief I feel is momentary because I have so many other urges to be met right now.
I fist my cock, and my eyes all but roll into the back of my head as I watch her. I’ve never watched anyone during their photo shoot. Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing it with her. But my cock—my poor fucking cock—needs this. I can’t even stand being in the same room as her.
All my years of well-trained discipline and restraint have gone up in chaotic smoke.
The photographer instructs her to lift a belt and place it between her lips, and she does so, biting down. And at this angle, it’s as if it’s all for me.
Damn, I wish it were for me.
I glide my hand up and down my length, thinking back to the time in the closet with her, and how her lips felt along my cock. That bite. My cock jerks, and I glance down at my tattoo.
Is this an all-time low for me? Wanking over a screen because I want to abide by my own rules so desperately. But, fuck, does it feel good watching her. Every angle I could imagine ramming into her. I want to see how much of me her sweet lips could take in. To train her to take me to the back of her throat. I want to see the tears in her eyes as she gags on me. And then I’ll return the favor.
“Fuck,” I growl as I pull open the drawer and grab a handkerchief. Am I a fucking teenager now? But damn it feels good. She feels good. Would feel good. I want to have her squirm under my touch and listen to her breath hitch as I choke her.
I wonder if she tastes sweet, like honey.
She twists, her back now facing the camera, and wraps the belt around her wrists. The light reflects on her supple skin, and her hands rest beneath her supple ass.
I imagine shoving my thumb and a string of beads into that ass. I want to play with all of her. To train and force her to submit.
I throw my head back as my cock explodes, and I grunt with the thought of how she would taste on my lips. I take a deep breath as I wipe myself clean and throw the silk handkerchief in the trash.
Fuck, that felt good.
When I look back to the screen, I notice she’s gone, which means she’s getting dressed. I shake my head in disbelief.
Fuck, what is she doing to me?
A few moments later, I meet her at the entrance. She’s wearing her jeans and jacket again, hugging herself as she reaches the front door.
It makes me feel even shittier for what I’ve just done.
“Let me drive you home,” I offer.
Honey nods but doesn’t say anything.
Maybe I should put a stop to this for her. She isn’t the only one to get nervous and feel uncomfortable with the process. And I always want to make sure the others feel safe and empowered in their decision, but somehow it’s different with Honey.
“Having second thoughts?” I ask as I open the car door. Plenty of people say they want to dabble in this but don’t understand the meaning and the nerve required to go through with it. To use it as an empowering experience. And if she can’t change her mindset, I won’t let her go ahead with it.
I don’t want her to have the same experience that many of my staff had in the past.
Or that I did.
She stops at the car door I’m holding open for her. “No, I just…”
“What?” I search her eyes, but she diverts them. “Honey, look at me.” I tip her chin to meet my gaze. Someone so beautiful should never look at the ground.
She seems shy, and I want to figure out a way I can draw it out of her.
“It’s going to hurt, right?”
My stomach drops. And I don’t know why it seems like such an obvious question and answer. As easy as the birds and bees. Honey climbs into the car, embarrassed for asking, but I don’t want her to ever be embarrassed with me.