30

Manda will be here soon, and I’ve yet to make contact with Winston, which leaves me worried. I shouldn’t be. I know he can handle himself, but I can’t help it. He’s been a tornado in my life,

but I can’t complain too much. He’s given me a means to support myself, a safe haven for my bird, and an escape from my wicked stepbrothers. In some ways, he’s my hero. A dark hero with a villainous smile and a black cape, hellbent on destroying everyone beneath his feet. For some insane reason, he’s intrigued with me, which goes a long way in Winston Constantine’s world.

Rather than dissecting what all this means, I focus on dressing. Manda said dinner was casual, but we both know my version of casual and hers are two totally different things. I select a white Valentino V-print silk shift dress. The long, billowy sleeves are fun, and the short length is sexy but still screams money, which I know Manda will appreciate. I pair it with white Jimmy Choo leather block-heel sandals that are just high enough to give my calves a shapelier look but not so high I break my neck. I could kiss Carly right now for the reasonable options he selected. If it had been up to Winston, there’s no telling what I would be wearing right now.

As if the devil has been summoned, my phone buzzes with a text.

Winston: I’ll be home soon.

His words cause a flutter in my stomach.

Me: We may miss each other. I’m to have dinner with my stepmother. She’s picking me up soon. Winston: How much will it cost to get you to stay?

Me: I really should go . . .

Winston: Maybe I should come up with something for you to do while at your dinner.

A tiny thrill shoots through me.

Me: Maybe you should.

Winston: I have an idea. It’s going to be embarrassing, and you’ll hate every second of it. Me: Sounds expensive.

Winston: I have expensive tastes.

A laugh tumbles out of me.

Me: Name your stakes, Win, and I’ll give you a price. Winston: So sure you’ll do it?

Me: I’m learning I can handle whatever you throw my way.

Winston: Oh, Cinderelliott, your eagerness to challenge me gets my dick really hard.

My skin heats, and I fumble with what I want to reply with. He saves me from having to respond because he launches into what he wants.

Winston: Since you’re mine and I pay for you, I want every detail as it happens. What you’re wearing. Where you’re going. The name of the driver. The restaurant. What your server looks like. The food you’re eating. The wine. I want to approve or disapprove of every aspect of your evening.

Sounds super controlling but hot.

Me: Manda won’t like it if I’m on my phone . . .

Winston: Blame me. That I need to know these things. That it’s important to me. She’ll understand. How much?

Me: Five thousand.

It’s a huge amount but I’m learning I underbid myself with this man all the time. Winston: If you call me during a bathroom break and do as I say, I’ll double it. Holy shit.

Ten grand to have dinner with my stepmother and give Winston every single detail.

Me: Deal.

Winston: Excellent. Now send me a picture of your outfit.

I walk over to the long mirror and playfully poke out my tongue for the picture. I really like this outfit so if he makes me change, I’ll be disappointed.

Winston: I like your hair down like that. The dress is a little short. Are you trying to turn on every guy in NYC?

Me: No.

Winston: They’ll all be half-hard when they see those golden legs on full display. What color are your panties?

Me: A nude thong.

Winston: I want those gone. Leave them on the guest bed so when I come home, I can wrap them around my dick and jerk off.

Heat floods through me, pooling in my belly.

Me: Okay.

Winston: It makes you wet thinking about my dick. Show me how wet. Me: I’m not sending you a picture of my pussy!

Winston: Your wet finger will do.

This guy is so filthy. With a groan, I slide my thong off, embarrassed that there’s a damp spot of arousal on them. I toss them on the bed and then awkwardly reach beneath my short dress to touch myself. Winston is right. It does turn me on thinking about my panties around his dick. A groan rasps out of me as I slide my finger into my slick warmth. After getting it nice and wet, I pull it out and take a picture for him.

My phone rings immediately. “Hello?”

“Suck on that juicy finger,” Winston commands, his voice a deep growl. “Won’t that be kind of gross?”

“I’m a gross man. Lick it off and be noisy about it.”

My cheeks blaze with crimson, but I suck my arousal off my finger, careful to add in sound effects for his benefit.

“For every person you accidentally flash, I want you to text me about it. I’ll reward you each time. I hope you’re ready to make some serious money.”

The thought of accidentally flashing anyone is mortifying, but this game, money or not, intrigues me. “You bring out the worst in me,” I complain, though I do it through a grin.

“I have that effect on people.” He chuckles, the warm, dark sound reverberating to my core. “Don’t forget to tell me everything. I want all the details. Make the time for me, Ash.”

My phone buzzes, and it’s Manda stating she’s here.

“Crap. She’s here. I have to leave.” I chew on my lip for a second. “What will you be doing?” “My hand until you decide to let me fuck your tight, young body.”

“You’re such a little weirdo,” I hiss as I snatch up my purse. “Don’t forget to say hello to Shrimp. He likes you.”

“I assure you, there is nothing little about me. And I’m not saying hello to a bird.” “Please.”

“That’ll cost you.”

“Name your price, Constantine.”

“When you call from the bathroom later, you have to FaceTime me and let me see you.” “Deal.”

“Good girl,” he croons. “Now get going.” “Yes, sir,” I tease before hanging up.

I rush out of the condo and then step onto the elevator. When I reach the bottom, I nearly crash into a guy as I exit. He eye-fucks me in a way that makes me shiver.

“I belong to Constantine,” I state, unable to help the words that rush out of my mouth.

The guy’s eyes widen, and he holds up a hand. “No offense, ma’am. You just look beautiful. No disrespect to you or Mr. Constantine.”

I give him a bitchy smile and then stride away from the elevator with my chin lifted. My silky dress sways with each long step I take, riding up my thighs. There’s a thrill that trembles through me knowing I’m walking around without panties, and a gust of wind or bending over might just reveal that fact to everyone. When I reach the black limo, I frown in confusion.