On to her bedroom

This isn’t how Rowan wanted me to talk to her, but every woman is different, I tell myself. This is what Bailey said she wants. “Now, little slut,” I growl, “you’re going to take me to your room and I’m going to use your bed to fuck you like a cheap whore. You understand that?”

“Yes, Sir!” Bailey says breathlessly, her eyes focusing on me. She slides off the island, turns toward the doorway, and purrs, “Follow me, Sir!”

I let her get about a step before I grab her ass with both hands. Bailey giggles but keeps walking. I’m tempted to push her against a convenient wall and grope her, or even fuck her, but I told her to take me to her room, and it seems to me I should stick with that.

Walking into Bailey’s room, I’m surprised to find it all pink and lace and frills. That doesn’t seem to fit her personality. But then, people often don’t fit together as neatly as we usually assume. The unmade bed, on the other hand, is no surprise. She’s unconcerned by it, pulling the sheets down to the foot and sitting on the edge. “I want to be clear about a couple things, Sir,” she says. “I’m not looking to be the next Mrs. Harrison; I’m not ready to be tied down. I don’t want a ring, I don’t want your babies, I just want your cock. I just want to be your fucktoy. I want to be your little cum addict, and I want you to be my pusher.”

I walk over to Bailey and she unbuckles my belt. In a few moments, my shorts and boxers are on the floor. I pull my shirt off and send it to join them. I look down to see her staring at my achingly erect prick with open-mouthed admiration. “Oh, Sir,” she says in a hushed voice, “Scarlett wasn’t exaggerating. You’re packing a military-grade cannon between your legs. You’re going to fill my hungry kitty so full, she won’t know which way is up.” She traces her fingertips along my shaft, over the knob, around the ridge at its base, with feathery strokes. “Tell your naughty little fuckslut what you want her to do.”