That scared, uncertainwhisper...
Fuck.
She’s afraid, and she’s turning tome. Like she forgot I’m the one who arranged this. She makes it so hard to discipline her.
But not too hard.
Click.
“No talking, remember?” I murmur.
She whimpers.
My God...
I suck in a breath, jaw tight, forcing myself not to take her right here against the wall.
“Go,” I say, low and sharp. “Get on the table. Do as they say.”
She hesitates but obeys, lifting herself onto the table.
“Ever had a Brazilian wax before?” Marissa asks, snapping on a pair of gloves.
Charlotte shakes her head, wide-eyed.
Marissa smiles like it’s nothing. “Then spread those thick thighs and try not to scream.”
Charlotte flinches but does as she’s told, reclining back on the table with shyness written all over her face. Her knees open, shaky. Vulnerable. Exposed.
Beautiful.
I stay back, watching.
Each rip of the wax strip makes her jolt, her body tensing, trembling. Her fingers curl tight around the table’s edge. Her little whimpers cut through me.
I clench my jaw, breathing through the sharp ache in my cock.
I want her.
Bad.
When Marissa finally steps away, satisfied, I’m quick to take her place.
Her pussy is red, her skin tender and swollen. My girl looks ruined already and I haven’t even touched her yet.
I press my thumb gently over her hot slit, stroking along the smooth crease slowly.
Her breath catches. She looks up at me, lashes wet, eyes full of things she won’t say.
But I see them all.
“You’re doing so good for me,” I murmur, dragging my thumb lower, easing it just inside.
She gasps, back arching off the table slightly, but she doesn’t close her legs.
She’s clenches around my thumb. She can’t help herself.
Well, her body can’t.
