I was sitting up in bed in the lamplight, ready and willing and as prepared as I could be when the bedroom lock sounded a second time. This time my heart kept on pounding. This time it really was the beautiful monster who stepped over the threshold and came into the room.
His eyes flicked straight from me to the empty dinner tray, and his smile was enough that my stomach flipped.
“Good girl,” he said. “I was hoping you’d eat up your food.”
“It was nice, sir,” I replied. “Thank you.”
I hadn’t noticed the bag in his hand until he drew close enough to drop it on the bed with me. It was leather, thick and dark as he unzipped the top and pulled out a flurry of lace and satin. Stockings. Knickers. A small babydoll slip with a panel of lace instead of a bra. There was no bra. Not that he pulled out and handed over.
“Your evening attire,” he told me. “Get dressed and ready.”
He didn’t pause while I checked out the items. He was straight into the bathroom and the shower sounded out loud just a few seconds later.
It took all of my resistance not to poke my head around the door frame and sneak a glance at him in there. I climbed out of bed and busied myself heeding his instructions. My fingers were shaking when I pulled up the tiny scrap of lace that was nothing more than a thong between my ass cheeks. The stockings were hold ups that felt tight against my thigh bruises. One of them was visible over the top, a mottle of green and violet over the black lace. I wondered if the viewers would like it like that. If they’d enjoy seeing the marks on my skin as much as they enjoyed seeing me get more of them.
The babydoll fit snugly, even on my skinny frame. It hid barely anything of my breasts. My nipples were poking through the fabric like bullets, clear from a mile away I was certain.
I was still adjusting myself in the outfit when Mr Gorgeous stepped back into the room with a low slung towel around his hips. His hair was wet and slick to his scalp, the stubble of his jaw still prominent.
I couldn’t stop staring as he opened his wardrobe with his back to me. His spine was a glorious dip of a river through banks of muscle. The bottom of his back was a stunning curve into his solid ass, clear enough even under his towel.
He pulled out a white shirt this time and slipped into it easily. He buttoned up, then dropped the towel and pulled up tight black underwear under a smart pair of suit trousers. I knew he would look amazing before he turned to face me, but I didn’t appreciate quite how amazing until his eyes met with mine and ploughed deep.
I knew then that I’d happily take whatever he’d dish out to me that night. I’d take anything from him.
His power was bristling as he took a step toward me and let out a breath.
“The clients are going to appreciate you this evening, sweetheart,” he said and closed the distance.
All I wanted was him. His body pressed to mine. His lips pressing firm. His mouth claiming. Hands claiming. All of him claiming all of me right there and then.
He didn’t do anything bar straighten the strap of the babydoll on my shoulder. I held my breath as he looked me up and down from a closer angle, wishing I was a vixen like Rebecca Lane in that moment, with her curves and bouncing waves of hair and smirk of a confident smile.
But no. I was only me.
“A good choice of outfit, yes?” he asked, and I found myself nodding.
“Great, sir, yes. Thank you.”
I was so conscious of my nipples straining in the fabric. So conscious of my fluttering clit between my legs, still sore from our last contact.
“I hope you’re prepared for this next show,” he said, and I nodded again.
“Yes, sir. I hope so, sir.”
“You’re to be a good girl this evening,” he told me. “You’ll take whatever I give you, no matter how it hurts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll be looking right at the cameras, giving the clients a good view of your pain.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and it sounded far away.
I flinched as he ran his fingers through my hair and smoothed some behind my ear. “I normally come armed with makeup, but I didn’t feel tonight needed anything more than your pretty face bare and raw.”
He should be lying. Definitely. There’s no way my face was better bare and raw after I knew the kind of girls he’d been paying for months. Still, his eyes were staring hard, and I couldn’t see any lies staring back at me. Not even a hint of one.