Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
The praise made me clench around his fingers, drawing a dark chuckle from him. He withdrew his hand and helped me stand, turning me to face him. His expression had softened slightly, though his eyes still held that intensity that made my knees weak.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he said, gesturing to a door off the main room. “Clean yourself up, then come back. We need to discuss your work with Melissa.”
I walked unsteadily to the bathroom, hyperaware of how I must look—my hair tangled from his grip, my bottom sore and leaking, my whole body flushed with exertion and arousal. The mirror confirmed my suspicions. I looked thoroughly debauched, like exactly what he’d called me—a well-used fuck toy.
I cleaned myself as best I could with trembling hands, using the soft washcloths he’d left out. Every touch to my sensitive flesh made me shiver, my body still thrumming with residual pleasure. When I finished washing, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to regain some composure. But when I looked at myself again, I could still see the truth written all over me—in my swollen lips, my dilated pupils, the way I couldn’t quite stand straight.
When I returned to the living room, Scott had just emerged from another bathroom. He sat casually on the sofa, looking through something on his tablet. My dress lay folded on the arm of the sofa, and I reached for it uncertainly.
“Leave it,” he said without looking up. “I like you this way—just the stockings. Besides, we’re not done for the evening.”
I stood there awkwardly, naked except for my thigh-highs, unsure whether to sit or remain standing. The cool air made my nipples harden, and I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively.
“Sit,” he said, patting the cushion beside him. “And stop covering yourself. You have nothing to hide from me anymore.”
I lowered myself gingerly onto the leather, wincing slightly at the soreness in my bottom. He noticed, of course, and smiled with satisfaction.
“Tomorrow you’ll feel it even more,” he said conversationally. “Every time you sit at your desk, you’ll remember exactly how I used you tonight. How you begged for it.”
My face burned, but I couldn’t deny the truth of it. I had begged. Desperately.
“Now,” he continued, turning the tablet toward me, “let’s discuss this new assignment. Melissa has been developing Her Secret Garden for six months, but she needs someone with your specific background to help refine the voice. Someone who understands both sides—the New Modesty training and the hidden desires it’s meant to shape.”
The screen showed a production schedule with dozens of episodes already in development. My name had been added to several of them as ‘Consultant.’
“You’ll be working closely with her,” Scott explained. “She has particular methods for drawing out authentic responses from her team. You’ll find her approach quite different from mine, though no less demanding.”
Something in his tone made my stomach flutter nervously. “Different how?”
“Melissa believes in a special kind of experiential learning. She’ll want to understand your responses firsthand, to ensure the edits and voiceovers capture genuine female desire rather than performance.” He set the tablet aside and turned to face me fully. “She’s quite hands-on in her research.”
The implication made my breath catch. “You mean she’ll…”
“She’ll do whatever she feels is necessary to understand your authentic responses,” he confirmed. “With my full approval, of course. Your training isn’t complete, Grace. Not even close. But between Melissa and me, we’ll help you understand exactly what kind of woman you really are.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing with possibilities. Another woman touching me, studying my responses, making me admit things I’d barely admitted to myself—the thought was both terrifying and shamefully exciting. I felt my brow furrow hard as I contemplated it.
“You’ll meet with her tomorrow at eleven. You’ll sleep here, after I fuck you again, and I’ll have my driver take you back to your place in the morning to get changed. You don’t need to be at the office until your meeting with Melissa.”
I nodded, unable to form words. The casual way he’d announced I’d be sleeping here, that he’d fuck me again, made my whole body flush with heat. Despite everything we’d just done, despite the soreness in my bottom and the lingering ache below my waist, I felt fresh arousal building at his matter-of-fact assumption of control over my night.
“Good,” Scott said, standing and extending his hand to me. “Come. I want to show you something in my study.”
I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, hyperaware of my nakedness as he led me through his apartment. The study was smaller than his office at Selecta, but no less impressive—dark wood shelves lined with books, a massive desk, and surprisingly, a collection of framed photographs I hadn’t expected.
“These are from my travels,” he said, noticing where my gaze had landed. “That one’s from Florence, actually. The Ponte Vecchio at sunset.”