Stroke of Midnight (Cinderella 1) - Page 8

“Start recording.”

Another sigh.

“It’s going,” she grumbles.

“Show me.”

Sure enough, it’s recording. Good girl.

“Part your thighs,” I demand. “I’ve been dying to know the color of your panties. Show me.”

She groans and parts her thighs. I roll my chair closer, leaning forward to look down into her skirt between her open thighs. Red. Like her cherry candies.

“Are you going to, um, touch me?”

“Do you want me to?” I murmur, inhaling her sweet-scented arousal.

“No,” she barks out. “Do I still get paid?”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll still pay you.” I smile at her. “Show me more.”

She curses again, grabbing her skirt with one hand and yanking it up her tanned thighs, exposing her young flesh. “Happy now, sicko?”

“I’m getting there. It seems you are, too.”

“What? Why?”

“Your panties have a wet spot, Miss Elliott. You’re turned on.”

“I am not,” she growls.

“Denial won’t change the fact you absolutely are. Give me your camera,” I order. “Now.”

She reluctantly hands it over. I turn the camera to record the evidence, even zooming in and letting it linger there. Once I’m sure she’s seen the proof she can study later, I hand her back the phone.

“Three minutes left,” she mutters.

“Easiest two hundred dollars you ever made. Am I right?”

4

Ash

What the fuck am I doing?

An hour ago, I could have never dreamed this is where I’d end the night. I fucked up. I know I did. I messed with the wrong guy. Slacking off on the CEO of some big corporation was a mistake. Now, I’m paying for it.

I’m confused as to why he wants this, but I’m invested now. I mean, five hundred dollars is more than I’ll make all week. It’s weird as hell, but he’s not forcing me or hurting me. It’s not horrible.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks, his intense blue eyes boring into me.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no.” I give him my bitchiest smile.

“Good.” His lips kick up on one side in a maddeningly handsome smile that makes my heart sputter in my chest. “I would hate to have to be gentle our first time. Gentle simply isn’t my style.”

Tate was gentle.

A sweet, albeit inexperienced lover.

Once a month, he’d take me somewhere nice and then we’d have obligatory relationship sex that fell flat in more ways than I can count.

The idea of sex with this monster is thrilling.

My God, I am sick.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” I remind us both. I sure as hell need the reminder.

“Yet,” he says again, winking at me. “Have you ever fingered this juicy, young pussy?”

A burst of flames lick over my skin. “You’re a pervert!”

“Says the girl who’s lying on a desk exposing herself to a man her daddy’s age. Who’s the real pervert here?”

I have just over a minute left.

I can do this and then get the hell out of here.

“Aww,” he croons. “I upset you. You’ve gone silent on me. Cat got your tongue? I’d offer mine, but it’d take a lot longer than a minute to lick you just the way you crave.”

“I’m literally counting down until I can take my money and leave,” I snap. “Let’s do it in silence.”

He inhales me again, which makes me shudder with desire. It’s so feral and disgusting, but I’m kind of into it, which freaks me out. Tate never sniffed me down there. Ever. Hell, I could barely get his mouth to venture that way.

“Tell me why you work, Miss Elliott. Why would you be willing to do this bizarre request for five hundred dollars?”

I pierce him with a nasty glare. “I can’t pay for college with my good looks alone.”

He studies me for a long moment, his gaze penetrating me in ways I secretly wish other parts of him would. “Where’s this beloved daddy now? Why isn’t he paying for his good girl to go to college?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“As your new employer and sharer of your sordid dirty little secret, I believe it is my business.”

I glower at him, hating that I wonder how his scruffy cheeks would feel on my inner thighs. Tate had the smoothest baby face. This man seems like he’d scratch me and leave a reminder of himself with just his facial hair alone.

“Why are your panties so wet?” he asks, a vicious grin on his face. “Would your daddy be ashamed to know his daughter was so kinky?”

“I’m not kinky, asshole,” I snap. “Just trying to get paid.”

He laughs, the sound demonic and sexy all at once. “Clearly. What do I owe you now? Six, seven hundred? Or are you trying to drag it out to a grand? Miss Elliott, I admire your tenacity, but I can tell you’re going to drain me of every penny I’ve got, because I could do this all night.”

I snap my eyes to the phone and let out a horrified mewl. Eight minutes I’ve let this video go on because he distracted me. I press the button to end the recording, close my phone, and shove it into my pocket as I sit upright. My skirt is high up my thighs.

Tags: K. Webster Cinderella Billionaire Romance
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