Page 8 of Highest Bidder
“Not twenty-two.”
She huffs, but there isn’t any heat behind the sound. “Asshole.”
I stifle an amused chuckle. “How’d a beautiful young lady such as yourself end up working here?”
Charlotte shrugs a shoulder, nervously twirling one of her red ringlets around her finger. Her hair is a brilliant mane, a vibrant halo that stands in stark contrast to her pale complexion. “Girl’s gotta eat,” she says simply. “To be honest, I didn’t exactly know what I was signing up for.”
“That much was obvious.”
She rolls her eyes, indignant. “Oh, what? And you’re some patron of the fine arts?”
“No. I didn’t know what I was signing up for, either.”
“You don’t come to these shindigs often?”
“Never.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she mutters, raking her eyes over my body. “You seem to have embraced the optional clothes requirement easily enough.”
“When in Rome.”
The smallest, lightest laugh bubbles past her lips. “I’m the odd duck out.”
“You could fix that, if you wanted.”
She regards me for a moment, her chest rising and falling a bit quicker. I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. The tension between us is excruciating, her proximity even more torturous. I want to touch her more than I want to breathe.
Charlotte uncurls from her balled up position, stretching out one of her long, smooth legs. I swallow, imagining what it would feel like to run my lips along her inner thighs.
“Okay,” she mumbles. “But you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself.”
Oh, fuck. I nod, just once. I can tell I’m in for a real treat.
“You have my word.”
She moves slowly, gracefully as she stands up in front of me. Charlotte carefully slips out of her lace bra, allowing the straps to slide down her shoulders first before letting the sheer fabric fall to the floor. Her lace thong goes next, pooling at her feet.
I am gloriously unprepared for how beautiful she is.
Supple breasts, curvy hips, a peachy ass. The peaks of her nipples are hard, either from the cold air of the room, her arousal, or perhaps both. What I wouldn’t give to pop one in my mouth. My cock strains, standing at full attention. Charlotte notices, licking her lips as she lays eyes upon my erection.
“There,” she whispers. “Now we’re equal.”
I chuckle. “Maybe there’s merit to Priscilla’s art show, after all.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Have a seat,” I tell her. When I sense her hesitance, I put my hands up in surrender. “I won’t touch, remember?”
Soothed by my promise, Charlotte moves. I fully expect her to resume her spot on the couch, so I’m admittedly a little shocked when she languidly crawls onto my lap and straddles me between her thighs. My heart stutters. What a little minx.
“Comfortable?” I ask her with a grin.
She settles, hands braced flat against my chest as she allows her weight to sink down. I can feel the wet heat of her pussy rubbing against my shaft, the sensation enthralling. Iachefor her. I want to bury my cock deep inside her, have her screaming in pleasure—but I made a promise, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.
“Misha, I…” She leans forward, her hips grinding against me. Her eyes are half hooded with desire; her lips parted just so.
“What is it,kisa?”