Page 24 of Good Girl
Vance is adding avocado to a plate of eggs and bacon when I come back into the kitchen. He hands me the plate, nodding to a stack of toast he’s prepared. I’ve never eaten so well. Clearly, this man likes to take care of us, he even makes sure we’re drinking enough.
“Thank you.” I smile at him, taking a seat at the dining table. “Josh wants me to go over there and speak to him.”
“And what do you want?” He snaps a piece of bacon, shoving it in his mouth.
“To get it over with.”
Bringing over a glass, he pours me some orange juice before sitting beside me with his mug of coffee. Encouraging me to eat with a jerk of his chin to the plate, his dominating demeanor makes my pussy throb.
“So, are you’re going?” Curious eyes track my movements.
“I told him I would be over in an hour.” Picking up a slice of toast, I bite into it.
“An hour isn’t much time.” He scoops some avocado on to my next bite, smiling, “it’s good for you to eat healthy fats.”
“Why do you have a locked room?” I find myself asking, my curiosity getting the better of me. I also want to change the subject from Josh.
Vance studies me, making me squirm. “It’s where we keep our toys, we don’t want the housekeeper having to touch that stuff.”
My stomach flips at that statement. A whole room for sex toys? I had a small bullet that I kept hidden in a Tampax box. “Can I see?”
“Nope.” He flashes me his teeth, and I suddenly want them in my neck, feeding on me like a vampire. “It would ruin the surprises we have for you if we let you in there.”
Anticipation for those surprises tingles in my veins, I like not knowing. “Where is Tristan?” I ask, looking around the room, my tone a little husky.
“He went to collect a delivery from the front desk.”
“They don’t bring them up?” I’d be shocked if they didn’t, considering how lavish this place is. In regard to luxury, it rivals the hotel’s penthouse. It must cost a small fortune to live in a place like this.
“They do.” He licks his lips, watching my mouth as I take a bite of the toast. “If he requests them to, but he didn’t want anyone seeing you.”
Looking away from him, my stomach churns. Is he embarrassed by me?
Studying me with a tilted head, Vance swipes his thumb to my cupid bow, capturing some butter collecting there then sucking the pad into his mouth. “Tristan only likes to share with me.” His gaze drags down my form. “Any man seeing you freshly fucked, wearing no panties, is a fuse we don’t want detonated.”
My mouth parts, and I blink a couple of times before replying. “You think he would get jealous?”
“I don’tthink, Angel.”
I don’t know what to make of that. I always thought Josh was too preoccupied to worry about other men finding me attractive, but now I know he never really wanted me that way himself. I wonder what he’d say if I told him about Tristan and Vance. Part of me wants to tell him just to be spiteful, not that he would care truly. It’s so obvious, now that I’ve been with Tristan and Vance. Their desire for me is in every action, movement, each spoken word. It’s impossible to not feel wanted around them. I just wish Josh could’ve been honest with me instead of wasting years of my life.
“Thank you for always feeding me.” I nudge Vance with my knee, and he rewards me with a dazzling smile.
“I like feeding you.” Somehow, his words come out sounding sexy, his seductive tone landing straight between my legs.
Surely, it’s not natural to be this turned-on after already being thoroughly fucked nonstop for hours on end.
“You’re blushing, Angel. What’s going on in there?” He taps a finger to my temple, an appreciative, hoarse sound rumbling in the back of his throat.
“I was thinking maybe I want to feedyou,” I reply, my voice thick with lust.
Vance stands, his lips curling at one side and his pupils growing wide.
Leaning over my chair from behind, he takes the toast from my hand and tosses it on the plate before he grasps the hem of my shirt and slowly raises it up my torso, his mouth at my ear, hot air wisping against the lobe when he says, “Such a needy little slut, our Angel is.”
My pussy aches, arousal leaking from me, dampening the seat. With my tits exposed, the temperature change has my nipples pebbling to hard little stones.
I raise my arms so he can lift the T-shirt over my head, but instead, he feeds each arm out, leaving the material bunched at my throat. Gathering the fabric, he twists until it tightens around my neck, my stomach clenching and thighs squeezing together as my air becomes restricted.
