Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
She shakes her head, once, almost violently. “No. I want it. The files, the truth. I want all of it.”
I lean in, so close my mouth is almost on her ear. “And the rest?”
She draws a shaky breath, the wine glass trembling in her hand. Then she sets it down, wipes her palms on her thighs, and turns to face me head-on.
“If we’re doing this, we do it my way,” she whispers, the words wavery but determined.
James smiles, slow and approving, flashing white teeth. “Of course, baby girl. We wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Marnie looks at both of us, her jaw clenched, big breasts heaving.
“Then let me give you a preview to show how serious I am,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Because I am, boys. I want everything … and that includes both of you.”
It’s the best offer I’ve ever heard.
The air deepens, becoming smoky and heavy. It’s like a switch gets thrown in Marnie’s body: the hesitant tremor in her hands goes steady, the nerves clear out, and what’s left is pure desire. I see it in the set of her jaw, the way her chin lifts, the way her eyes flash between the two of us, greedy and unashamed.
She stands, and instead of moving away, the curvy girl positions herself dead center between where James and I sit. In the hush, I can hear her pulse, the faint hitch of her breath, the subtle squeak of leather as she shifts her weight from heel to heel.
Then, with a motion as practiced as it is defiant, she reaches behind herself and unzips the dress. The teeth of the zipper part with a low rasp, exposing first the narrow band of skin at her lower back, then the arch of her spine, then the entire expanse of bare flesh. She shrugs the dress off her shoulders, and it slips to her elbows, then her waist, before pooling at her feet in a glossy, black puddle.
The sight is better than I’d even let myself imagine because Marnie’s gorgeous. She’s lush, full and curvy, with the big breasts and wide hips that we crave. The young girl’s wearing lingerie that looks painted on: a black bra with mesh cups and satin trim, a matching thong that’s basically a few strips of lace and elastic, and garters that anchor to thigh-high stockings so sheer they could be made of shadow. Her heels are sharp and glossy, adding another three inches to her height. Her hair is a glorious golden river over one shoulder, her lipstick still perfect. She looks like a fantasy and a dare all at once.
James lets out a low, involuntary sound, half growl, half whistle. I grin and lean back, giving her space.
She steps backwards, away from us, and stands there, arms loose at her sides, letting us look. I can see her big breasts rising and falling fast, but there’s no hint of shame in her pose—just anticipation.
“Goddamn, baby,” James murmurs, “you’re gorgeous.”
Marnie shoots him a look. “You like?”
Her voice is steadier than it’s been all night and then, the young woman reaches up and unhooks her bra, sliding the straps off slow. Her breasts are full and lush ivory Double D’s, the nipples flushed pink and already hard, probably from the anticipation of what’s to come. The thong goes next, one thumb hooked in the waistband, the other sliding the lace down her thigh as she bends low to step out of it.
When she straightens, she’s bare except for the stockings, the shoes, and the little gold chain around her throat. Her pussy is smooth and pink and gloriously wet, the lips puffy and gleaming in the city lights. There’s no hiding how much she wants this, or how much she’s already leaking.
I let my eyes wander, slow and deliberate. She shifts under my gaze, but not out of discomfort—out of impatience. Marnie wants to be fucked, and we’re just the men to do the honors.
I stand, unhurried, and walk to her. James stays seated, watching like a man in church, reverent and almost feral.
I stop just in front of her. The height difference is dramatic—she’s tall in the heels, but I’m taller. I tilt her chin up with one finger and hold her gaze.
“You like this?” I growl, voice pitched low enough that it vibrates her bones.
She nods, eyes huge. “Yes, sir.”
The words send a thrill down my spine. I slide my hands down her arms, slow, then grip her wrists and bring them behind her back, holding them loose but firm.
“Then let’s play, sweetheart. I’m ready for a taste of these gorgeous curves.”
I step aside and push her, gentle but forceful, so that she’s standing with her ass to the window, the city twenty stories below, her skin awash in the glow of a million LEDs. James gets up, too, now, and flanks her on the other side.