Page 11 of Becoming His

Why?

Mr. Blackwell

Wrong answer

Butterfliesflutterinmybelly, my face flushing. There’s a delicate line of flirting when you’re first discovering the boundaries with your partner. How they respond to things and what they like. I drag my tongue across the back of my teeth and then grab a piece of my favorite piece of fruit gum, debating how to answer him. The tone of brat versus disrespectful is hard to convey over text.

Mr. Blackwell

Address Brina. Leaving me on read for over one minute is unacceptable.

My mouth drops open, and then I curse the stupid phone for automatically turning on read receipts. I’m tempted to turn them off, but that might anger him more.

Just leave them at the front desk. They’ll bring them up.

I message him the building address and set the phone on the bed next to me. Technically, I have given him the address, just not my apartment number. The banging of drawers through the wall draws my attention, and I hop off the bed. Walking over to the second bedroom, I see Melody in a flurry, stuffing things in her bag.

“Overnight client?”

She looks at me frantically. “Have you slept with Jackson?”

Jackson is Tyler Hastings’ partner, and I know he is super close to Emery as well. It isn’t unusual for him to turn to some girls for a quick night. “Nah, I heard he likes the old timers who have their set clients.”

She frowns. “Why would that matter?”

The poor thing looks almost disappointed, and I sigh, hoping she doesn’t have feelings for him. “Because with set clients, there are no surprises. You have your days that they never change from, so you can schedule around it. They’re not sleeping with anyone else, so tests are basically unnecessary. And usually, set clients are on the tamer side with kinks, so very little recovery time is needed.”

Melody nods as if absorbing all the information seriously. “That makes sense. Basically, he pencils in his pussy appointments around their schedules.”

A laugh catches in my throat, and I move further into the room, dropping onto the bed as curiosity gets the best of me. “Why? He ask for you?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think he knows who I am. Emery asked me to help him with something else, like, not dick related.” The little triangle between her eyes crinkles.

I refrain from rolling my eyes at Emery and her favors. “Bummer. I hear his dick is legendary.”

Glancing at her bag, I almost balk at the black and tans that fill it. I push off the bed to rummage through the lacy underwear provided to us under the company expenses. “Go with the whole innocent vibe. Men like him can’t help but want to corrupt you.”

Her face flushes. “I fuck people for a living. I’m not innocent.”

This time I roll my eyes, knowing she’s only taken one client. “No, but you look like Snow White if she had long hair. And you’re literally as short as a dwarf; it’s adorable. Andinnocent.”

She stomps her little foot and releases a kitten-like hiss. “Shut up! I am not that short!”

Laughing, I pat her head and leave her to finish packing. I drag my feet to my room, nervous to check my phone. I shouldn’t have ignored him, but the temptation to see how he would act was too much.

Mr. Blackwell

Clever, but not appreciated. Clear your schedule. You’ll be going to dinner with me.

Mr. Blackwell

When I said not to leave me on read, that was not permission to ignore me.

Mr. Blackwell

8 p.m. Don’t expect to return to your apartment for the weekend.

I huff out a breath, half with fear and half with arousal. My heart skips a beat, and my fingers tremble as I struggle to type out a response fast.

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