“Feel good, pretty girl?”
She shrugs.
“Lie to me then. Tell me how good it feels and how happy you are for the privilege.”
“It feels good,” she grumbles. “I’m so happy.”
“Liar.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s weird. Sorry I’m not into it like you are.”
“Would you rather me pin you down and dry fuck you on the rug?”
“W-What? No,” she rushes out. “This is fine. It feels good.”
“Or,” I rumble, leaning forward to inhale her sweet cherry scent that lingers in her hair. “I could take your panties off and lick your pussy until you scream. That would feel much better.”
A tiny gasp escapes her.
This girl likes dirty talk.
“Maybe I should shove my finger in your tight asshole while you ride my big cock. That would feel really good,” I croon. “Teach you what a real dick feels like.”
“Stop,” she pleads.
“I’m only just getting started.” I lean back, searing my gaze into hers. “When we fuck, it’s going to hurt the first time, because I’m going to be desperate to come inside your barely-touched pussy. So much come will run out of you, you’ll be cleaning it up for days. I won’t allow you to wear panties so I can watch it run down your sexy thighs.”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she whimpers. I don’t remind her to open her eyes, but instead let her enjoy the moment.
“One day, I’m going to spread you out on my bed and see how many fingers you’ll let me put inside you. If I lubed up my whole hand, would you let me fist your cunt, little girl? Would you scream because it hurts, or would you beg for all of it?”
Her body trembles, her nails biting into my shoulders. “Winston . . .”
She jerkily rides my thigh, desperate to come, but she needs help. I reach between her thighs and rub on her clit through her panties.
“I owe you a grand,” I murmur and then kiss her neck. “Oops. Two.”
She comes with a shriek of surprise. I delight in the way her body comes undone for me. I don’t remove my finger that lazily teases circles on her clit until she smacks at my hand.
“I said don’t touch,” she snaps, her words breathless.
“And you still owe me another minute.” I lift a brow in challenge. “Keep riding, cowgirl. Time’s not up yet.”
Her expression grows murderous, but she obeys. I know she won’t get off again, at least not without help, and she has a determined look that says she’d rather throw herself out one of my windows than let me assist again. The second the timer goes off, she flies off me and quickly pulls her jeans back on. I rub my palm across the wet spot on my thigh before bringing my hand up to smell her arousal.
“Mmm.” With my eyes glued to hers, I lick my palm. “Good, good girl.”
“Where’s your restroom?” she chokes out as she buttons her jeans.
I point to an open door. She scurries off, leaving me with an aching erection. While I wait for her to return, I send her the money we agreed upon.
“Holy shit,” I hear her croak out in the bathroom.
And to think, I’m only getting started.
This girl has much to learn, and I’ll enjoy every second of teaching her.
After twenty long minutes in the bathroom, she emerges, her self-confidence back in place. She waltzes over to me and pushes her feet into her shoes.
“I’m leaving now. I did my job.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “We’re done here.”
I rise to my feet and prowl over to her. She’s got balls. Unlike most women, she stands her ground and meets my stare with a fiery one of her own.
“I’m taking you home,” I rumble.
“No.”
“Not up for debate.”
“I’ll take an Uber.”
My lip curls up in disgust. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine, I’ll walk,” she huffs. “As long as I don’t have to spend another second with you.”
“No,” I growl, gripping her delicate neck. “You will not walk. You’re going to accept the ride, woman.”
“I can afford my own ride now.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’ve just been paid.”
“You’re not spending your college money. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“If I want to, I will,” she barks back at me. “You don’t get to dictate how I spend my money.”
Her attitude is pissing me off. I release her to stride out of the living room to grab my keys from the entryway table. “I’ll negotiate on a lot of shit, Ash, but not this. Let’s go.”
She’s quiet the entire way down to the lobby. Ollie, my doorman, gives me a nod as we pass. Outside, the late spring air is warm and refreshing. The valet, Dave, brings my matte-black Lamborghini Urus to the front door.
I open the passenger door for her. She won’t look at me, clearly pissed at having me take her home. I don’t care. She can either take a ride from my driver or from me. I won’t have her riding in a fucking Uber. It’s insulting. And it’s not safe for her.