Sweet Little Lies (Dirty Little Lies Duet #2) - J.D. Hollyfield Page 0,18
of his drink.
My, my, my…looks like we’re in the same boat. Too bad my boat consists of his precious baby girl.
“Then what’s stopping you?” I ask. Maybe his answer will help me figure out why I stopped myself from fucking his sweet little daughter.
“Stopping me from what?”
“Fucking her? What’s stopping you? Is she willing?” Like your daughter? Fuck, I need to stop.
“I can’t.”
“Why? Afraid she won’t like your taste in sex? They all submit sooner or later. Some don’t know what they want until you introduce them to it. Young and eager? Sounds like the jackpot to me.” If he only knew who I was describing. It makes me want to go to her. Bend and break her. The mental image alone stirs awake the sadist inside me. It’s a good thing she’s at school, putting distance between my beast and her beauty.
“No. I mean, I can’t. Not only is she way too young, but she’s also Hazel’s roommate. That’s just all-around fucked up. I’m not a fucking asshole.”
My hands wipe down my face at his reply. Fuck. What does that make me? I don’t wait for my drink to come. I tell him to fuck the girl or get a private room because he’s becoming intolerable, then get up and head to the elevator. My finger jabs roughly at the button for the lower level, and my jaw ticks as the doors open. I storm into a private room, needing to release all this pent-up aggression. Ever since I started this game with Hazel, I feel like I’m the one who’s losing. I come into these rooms and use my whip to blow off steam, but then I make them leave. I have yet to touch another woman since I’ve touched her.
Tonight, I’m changing that. I’m the one in control here. Not her. I pick up the phone and let the girl on the other line know exactly what I want—young, blonde, submissive. I undress while I wait, pacing the room, picking out the exact toys I fancy for the evening. A soft knock sounds on the door, and I instruct her to enter.
I keep my back to her as I order her to undress and face the wall. She’s quiet and obedient, just as I demanded. When I turn toward her, she’s doing precisely as I instructed. “Kneel.”
“Yes, Master.”
That’s right. How it should be. A compliant little mouse. I inhale deeply, feeling a bit more like myself, and pick up a feather whip. The softness of the winged straps drag along her bare shoulders, and I watch and wait for her skin to shiver as my little bird’s did. Stop. I throw the feathered whip and replace it with a leather one. I rear back and slash one lick across her back. The woman doesn’t react.
“Tell me, how many licks will it take for you to beg me to stop?”
“As many as you wish, Master.” Usually, I would enjoy how submissive she is. How she would let me tear up her back as long as it pleased me. But her answer only further frustrates me. Because in the back of my head, all I hear is her. Do your worst. I whip her again. And again. But nothing. There’s no relief. Suddenly, I’m taking in her backside. None of it is comparable. I grab at her hair and pull her head back to get a look at her. This woman doesn’t hold power over me like she does.
“Out.” She doesn’t move fast enough. “OUT!” I yell, and she hurries out of the room, forgoing her clothes.
I tell myself not to do it. To stay away. But I’ve proven myself to be a bad man. Nothing will stand in my way from what I want. No matter what I have to lose to get it. I find my phone and dial her number. It’s late, but I couldn’t give a shit. It rings too many times. I expect it to go to voicemail when the line connects, music blaring in my ear.
“Hello?” Her voice is off. She’s drunk. Which only angers me more.
“Why are you out so late?” I ask like I’m her goddamn father.
“Why are you calling me so late?” she retorts. That smart little mouth is going to cost her. I swipe my hand down my face, searching for my control.
“Because I’m checking in to see where my little cunt is.”