Page 10 of Seductive Scoundrel

Dean: I don’t like compromises, and you’re already asking me to make far too many. Send me a picture of your pussy.

Even though I don’t think this venture in self-pleasure is going to take very long – and I have no strong desire to draw it out when I can’t be spurred on by Mia’s sounds – I decide to lay on my bed while I keep stroking my cock slow and steady, the pre-cum letting my fist glide smoothly.

And when Mia’s picture comes through, my assumption is proven correct. Her pussy is waxed bare and glistening wet, causing an involuntary groan to rumble deep in my chest. It’s close enough that I can see her juices dripping and I can’t wait to get my face between those thighs.

It’s unexpected, but my cock fucking erupts on my next upstroke. Since it’s impossible to fight it, I go with it and squeeze my fist at the crown, making sure that every last drop is milked out while I stare at Mia’s perfect pussy.

Jesus.

With an unsteady hand, I take a picture of my abs that are covered in my hot, sticky release and send it to her. My dick pic hesitation has apparently gone by the wayside.

Dean: Damn, baby. Promise I won’t be a minute-man when I see you on Saturday, but I couldn’t resist that pussy.

Mia: I came, too. Something about you gets me really worked up.

Dean: That’s what I like to hear. I’ll make you come so hard so many fucking times that I’ll have to carry you home.

I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. Mia is keeping my attention far longer than any other woman I’ve casually hooked up with, and something tells me that she’s going to be very different.

I don’t know exactly how, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Chapter Four

Mia

I’m notproud of myself, but I couldn’t help it – I googled the price of the lingerie Mr. Big Dick sent. He spent a thousand freakin’ dollars on underwear for a woman whose face he’s never even seen. So either he can afford Masa or moonlights as a lingerie thief.

Any way you slice it, it’s still crazy.

Crazy is also a good word to describe sendingthosepictures to him. He’s a virtual stranger. We could pass each other on the street and never even know – unless he was naked. I’d know that cock anywhere.

It’s the thing my dreams are made of. The wet, hot, and oh-so-messy kind.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson after dating an asshole like Senator Kyle Wentworth. He was into naughty pictures and videos. After I caught him screwing my best friend Veronica – make thatex-best friend – I regretted each and every one he had stored on his phone. Of course, he promised to delete them, but can you ever really trust a politician?

Kyle is the exact reason I took the job with TBA in New York City. The senator and his new wife Veronica are very prominent in Kansas City. Living with constant reminders of them and how stupid I was would be beyond painful.

I look around, taking in the concrete jungle that’s swallowed me whole. The smell of fried food, hot tar, and garbage overlaid with honking horns and people talking confirms one thing.

Toto, I’m not in Kansas anymore.

I miss the fresh air and open spaces of Kansas, although NYC has begun to grow on me. Kind of.

It has a lot to offer that home doesn’t, like Broadway, more shopping than anyone could ever need, and a dizzying variety of restaurants.

And Dean.

A smile plays across my lips as I enter the Seneca Building. Mr. Big Dick is getting a special delivery today.

Everything in the lobby is either white and grey marble, stainless steel, or black leather. It’s by far the nicest building I’ve been in. Whoever owns it must be beyond loaded, and makes me wonder what Dean does for a living.

A key card is required to use the elevator, so I head to the massive reception desk instead. It’s, of course, constructed out of marble and probably costs more than I’ve made in the past three years. Sitting behind it is a woman in her mid-twenties who looks more like she should be working for Sephora than a corporation.

I pull the box out of my bag. “Can I leave this for Dean, please?”

She looks at me, then at the package in my hand. It’s a black box, the size of a scarf, tied with a black satin ribbon. It looks nice on the outside, but what’s on the inside is definitely in the naughty category.

Nestled on the red silk lining are a blindfold, a set of velvet-covered handcuffs, and a note that simply reads, “Looking forward to our date.”

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