Page 77 of The Naughty List

He shakes his head, and looks at his watch. “We have thirty-seven minutes left, and I want to make sure you are ok, in a clear headspace, fed, watered, and set for a cab home.”

Fuck, we’ve been here ages… and I just can’t…

I don’t care about being in a clear headspace, or fed and watered.

“It’s ok, Sir,” I tell him. “I don’t need that. You can keep playing.”

He gestures to my tits. “I appreciate the offer, but you need to give yourself time for recovery there. I was a little irresponsible on my timings and should never have kept you bound that long, but I was too transfixed by them.”

I couldn’t give a shit about my tits…

“And your pussy,” he tells me. “I think I may have torn you slightly.”

He seeks out a tissue and hands it over so I can wipe myself, but again, I don’t give a shit if he’s torn me. I want him to do it all over again.

But I can’t say that. I’m not allowed to discuss future dates, or more terms, or ask for any further information. So what the fuckcanI say?

“That was incredible,” I tell him, like an idiot. “Beyondincredible. That’s the best BDSM experience I’ve ever had by miles.”

He waves my compliment aside. “Thank you, but there is no need for compliments. It’s most definitelymewho should be thankingyou.”

Like fuck it is. He really has no idea how much it means to me.

He brings a pack of wipes, and is so gentle as he cleans the cum from my face and my tits. So gentle it feels surreal. So gentle I’d give anything for him to fuck me. But of course I can’t ask for that.

He helps me up from the rack, and holds me secure as I get dressed. He gives me his robe as we go upstairs, and makes me a coffee and a club sandwich in his gorgeous, period style kitchen, insisting I down a big glass of juice for the sugar while he calls a cab for me.

But I don’t want it.

I don’t want to leave.

I hover at his doorway in my coat and heels when the cab arrives, but there is nothing I can do.

“Thank you, Holly, and goodnight,” he says, then looks out at the faint hint of dawn on the horizon. “Well, good morning. However you want to term it.”

“Goodnight, Sir,” I reply, and fuck it. I go in for a kiss on the lips but he shakes his head at me.

“That wasn’t in our proposal, and I never deviate. I’d love to, believe me, but I never do.”

Damn it.

I feel so dejected when I step outside, until I hear his voice behind me.

“Maybe I’ll change the proposal terms next time.”

I spin to him with a massive grin on my face.

“Next time? But I thought you liked newbies?”

He smirks so beautifully before he closes the door.

“For you, I may well make an exception.”

Holy shit, I’m a mashed-up ball of everything on the way back to London. I listen to the monotone chatter from the cab driver, nodding in the right places, but everything is whirring.

I check my account, and the huge amount of cash is already showing as a balance.

My review comes in just a few minutes later. It’s succinct and to the point, like him.

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