I need to get fucked, dammit. I’m not about to allow someone to fuck that up for me … again.

“Oh sure,” he says excitedly, at the sight of the $20 bill. “Right away.”

He hurries away down the hallway and I close the door behind him, leaning up against the closed door with a sigh.

Now, all I can do is wait, and hope that I’m not completely deluding myself about what I saw in my stepdaddy’s eyes.

Because that would be so damn embarrassing if I am.

Oh my god, what if I am?

I start to panic. I grab my cosmo from the dresser top and throw it back, chugging it like a freshman with a beer bong. Once I swallow it all, I sink backwards, down onto the bed.

He war so totally flirting with me. I know he was. There’s no way that he wasn’t.

I close my eyes and breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose. Or, dammit, is it supposed to be in through my nose and out through my mouth? Now I can’t remember.

The alcohol doesn’t seem to be giving me any extra courage, but it sure as fuck is messing with my brain. Ugh.

I kick off my shoes and start to unbutton my shirt to strip, but then realize, what if he came up here after receiving my present just to tell me no? It’d be even more embarrassing if I answered the door naked, only to be patted on the head and told to go run along.

It’s my birthday. Surely, I can’t have two fuck-awful things happen to me in the same day, right? Isn’t there some sort of universe limit on this?

I go into the bathroom and critically eye my outfit, finally deciding on having an extra button undone. It does a nice job of showing off my cleavage, while also not being “OH MY GOD, I’M HERE TO FUCK YOU!” outrageous.

“Daphne,” I tell my reflection, “if he decides not to fuck you, at least you know you probably won’t run into him again. It’s not like he comes to the family reunions or something. And New York City is a very big city.”

Okay, now I just sound like a drunk version of a tourist guide.

Knock knock

I freeze. Is that the doorman, back to tell me that my stepfather told me to fuck off? Or is that my stepfather, just trying to be polite before he opens the door?

I swear to god, I cannot breathe.

6

Dominic

Okay, I know women like to take a while in the bathroom, but this is getting ridiculous. I feel a tap on my shoulder as I wait, increasingly less patiently, for my stepdaughter to reappear. “Sir?”

I turn, seeing a young kid in a too-big bellman’s suit, holding out an envelope for me. “You’re Dominic Masters, right?” he asks.

“Yes…” I say distractedly, scanning the front of the envelope. Room 315. Come join me for some fun.

The envelope is suspiciously lumpy. As I run my thumb along underneath the seal to break it open, I look up to ask the bellman what the woman looked like who handed me the envelope – what if this is Heather? – but he’d disappeared.

I open it up to find a pair of red and black lace panties…no, a thong. A damp thong.

And a keycard for the Carlyle Hotel. I’m assuming it’ll work on the door of room 315.

I stare down at the items in my hands, not sure of what to do. If this is Heather, she’ll take me showing up at her door as an invitation to restart our relationship.

But if it’s Daphne…

I try to casually raise the envelope to my nose to smell it, and it smells like sweet arousal. Sweet delicious pussy juices.

This can’t be Heather. It just can’t be.

Tags: Mona Cox Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net