Page 3 of Corrupted Deception

When my mark reached out to palm my tits, I grabbed hold of his hands and brought one of them to my lips, sucking the tip of his index finger into my mouth.

Ugh, gag.

“Lay down, handsome, and let me make you feel real good,” I said, calling on my innerPretty Womanbecause it was time to get this show on the road. The fewer memories of his hands on me I had to scrub from my mind, the better.

I took a chance and let go of his hands, hoping like hell he’d follow my instructions.

Not quite.

He grabbed hold of my hips and walked backward toward the king-size bed, pulling me with him. When the backs of his knees bumped the mattress, he sat down, tugging me into the wide V of his thighs.

“Take off my shirt,” he instructed.

So long as we were taking offhisclothes, not mine, I was game.

I leaned down, giving him an eyeful of my pushed-up tits as I unfastened the buttons of his plum-colored pinstripe shirt and slid it off his shoulders, grazing my manicured red nails down his arms as I went.

He wasn’t badly built; no flab, no man-tits, but “manscaping” clearly wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. He had a full pelt of hair on his chest, down his abdomen, and disappearing into the waistline of his pants.

With his shirt gone, I ran my fingers through the thick, dark hair on his chest, from his clavicles to his waist, lingering there, hoping he’d get the hint and lie back so I could get to work on his pants.

“Unzip my pants and pull out my dick,” he commanded instead as he used his grip on my hip to try to force me down onto my knees.

Um, no.I’d already planned my dinner for tonight, andthatwas definitely not on the menu.

I licked my lips and pouted prettily. “Let me take them off, handsome. I want to see all of this sexy body,” I crooned, forcing my fingers to slip a little lower, grazing over the head of his dick through his pants. I had to swallow back a bit of vomit that came climbing up my throat.Not that I was categorically opposed to dicks. On a whole, I was actually rather fond of them.

“You want to see more, do you?” he asked, a smug smile on his face.

Wasn’t that what I just said?

“Uh-huh,” I replied, smiling like I was hungry for his hairy, mediocre body. And just for good measure, I stroked my hands down his thighs and back up before moving to the button and fly of his pants.

If he could feel the slight tremble of my fingers, he didn’t let on about it.

He put his hand over mine. “Will that make you wet for me, sugar?” he persisted, holding my hands still.

Honey? Sugar?Really?

Sugar pie, honey bunch. You know that I love you…The song flitted through my mind, making a hysteric giggle rise up in my throat.

I fought hard to swallow it back.

Dear Lord, was he seriously trying to play hard to get?

“I’m already wet for you, handsome,” I practically purred.

Wet, dry… Same thing, right?

He let go of my hands, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Show me, honey,” he instructed as his gaze slid down to the apex of my thighs.

Uh-oh.I’d clearly made a wrong turn here. Time for a detour.

“Do you want a taste, handsome?” I improvised, willing him to say yes.

“You know I do,” he said, grinning while his erection jerked in his pants.

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