Page 98 of Seeds of Malice

I stretch my arm and curl my finger.

She steps next to me.

I order, "Go back and crawl from the bottom of the bed to me."

She arches her eyebrows, but her lips twitch.

"Ah, my dirty little slut. You're into this as much as I am. Admit it."

She giggles. "Okay, maybe. It is fun."

"Yeah, it is. Now, go back, pick up that bra, throw it how you just did, and when I motion, you crawl from the bottom of the bed up. Understand?"

Her hesitation is gone. She nods. "Okay, Dax." She takes a few steps away, grabs her bra, steps back into position, and makes the same move she did. Then, she slowly goes to the end of the bed, crawling up it and sliding her hands between my thighs.

I groan.

Her face gets near my cock.

I demand, "Now, use those pretty whore-red lips and show me what you got."

She doesn't hesitate and takes all of me into her mouth.

I groan louder, staring at the green blinking lights, higher than a kite, thinking about all the footage I'm getting.

My little slut has a lot to learn—mostly about me.

16

Ivy

Dax pulls to the curb. The sign above the restaurant reads "Butcher and Sea Chophouse."

The valet comes over and opens my door.

Dax growls, "Don't touch her."

My butterflies take off. I love how protective he is, even if it is slightly extreme.

He races around the car, helps me out, and leads me inside.

The minute the hostess sees him, she chirps, "Mr. Carrington, so good to see you again. We have your table ready. Right this way." She leads us through the dark restaurant to a quiet, luxurious booth.

Dax motions for me to sit down. I slide in, and he settles next to me.

I'm pretty sure the seats are real leather. They're soft, just like my outfit. Candles are lit, and a blingy chandelier hangs over our table.

Dax slips his hand between my thighs and under my barely-there skirt.

I freeze. I'm still not used to his public displays of affection.

The hostess smirks at me, then refocuses on Dax, stating, "Thomas will be your server tonight."

Dax squeezes my upper thigh.

The hostess glances at me again.

I square my shoulders and lift my chin, not wanting her to think she intimidates me or I'm embarrassed, because I'm not. I'm proud to be with Dax.

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