Semua Bab Dirty Little Lessons (An Erotica Collection): Bab 31 - Bab 40

The platform at Grand Central was full of people at 12:47 a.m., the fluorescent lights reflected brightly, with insects buzzing round them. I had missed the last express by three minutes and now stood wedged between a businessman scrolling stock tickers and a college kid with earbuds blasting a rap. My little black dress clung to my thighs, damp from the summer humidity that refused to get better even after midnight. The skirt barely skimmed mid-thigh, the neckline dipped low enough that every breath threatened spillage. I had dressed for the club, not for this sardine-can that's crawling uptown.When the train screeched to a stop, the doors slid open and the crowd surged in. I was pushed forward on a tide of elbows and briefcases, my four-inch heels skidding on the smooth floor. Someone’s umbrella hit my calf. A woman’s perfume, something floral, clung to my nostrils. Then the doors slid with a hiss, and the train took off, pinning me chest-to-back against a stranger.He was tall. Th

The Red Door had a huge door wedged between a convenience store and a laundromat, its sign nothing more than a red bulb flickering above the huge door. I pushed through at 1:12 a.m., my thighs still trembling, his cum slick between them with every step. The bouncer barely glanced at my ID, just a flick of his eyes over my flushed face and ruined lipstick, before unhooking the velvet rope and letting me in.Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke and the scent of a mixture of different colognes, the bass was thrumming so loud that I could feel it in my chest. The bar has red velvet booths lined along the walls, with crystal chandeliers dripping light over the entire room. I spotted him immediately in the back booth, a bottle of bourbon and two glasses already waiting. His jacket was off now, sleeves rolled to the elbow, revealing forearms hardened with muscle and a tattoo curling around his left wrist, of a serpent devouring its own tail.He didn’t stand when I approached, just cr

I woke to sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows and the smell of fresh coffee. No ropes, no cross, no buzzing toys, just crisp white sheets tangled around my legs and the dull, delicious ache between my thighs that reminded me everything from last night had actually happened.He was already up, leaning against the kitchen island in nothing but low-riding gray sweatpants, hair messy and slightly darker in the morning light. The penthouse was all glass and steel and sky, in downtown Manhattan glittering thirty-eight floors below, we had checked out at eleven and headed to his house. He watched me walk across the hardwood, naked and marked, with hand prints on my hips, faint belt lines on my wrists, a bite mark turning purple on the swell of my left breast.“Coffee?” he asked, voice softer than it had any right to be after wrecking me for eight straight hours.I nodded, my throat still sore. He poured a mug, added exactly the right amount of cream without asking, and handed i

Ten minutes after he’d fucked me on his desk, I was still trembling, my thighs slick, blouse hanging open like a surrender flag. Callum tucked himself away calmly. “Walk,” he said.I tried to fix my skirt, but he caught my wrist. “Leave it. I like you ruined.”He led me half-naked, heels clicking, down the dark hallway to the executive conference room. Motion-sensor lights flickered on as we entered, a twenty-foot slab, twenty leather chairs, floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. The city sparkled below colourfully.He flicked one switch, and the automated blinds stayed open.“Monday at eight,” he said, voice low, “the entire board will sit right here.” He patted the glossy table. “I want them to smell you on the wood when they walk in.”My breath hitched. “Callum—”“Hands on the table, Marcey. Ass out.”I obeyed instantly, palms slapping the cold surface, legs spreading wide. The position left my ruined thong twisted to the side, pussy swollen and dripping a mixture of us down my

At 6:03 p.m. on Friday the all-staff email went out.Subject: Building maintenance – 47th floor closed until Monday 8 a.m.Remote access disabled. Do not attempt entry.— C. ReidBy 6:17 the elevators were locked to our floor only, by 6:25 the cleaning crew had been sent home with triple pay, by 6:30 the entire 47th floor belonged to just the two of us.Callum found me in the photocopy room, sleeves rolled up, unbuttoning my blouse one torturous button at a time.“Strip,” he said. “Everything off except the heels and the collar I left on your desk.”I hadn’t even noticed the thin black leather band until that moment. Velvet on the inside, steel on the outside, a tiny silver ring at the throat. I fastened it with shaky fingers while he watched, eyes dark.Then the clothes hit the floor, he clipped a matching black leash to the ring and gave one gentle tug. “Walk.”He led me naked through the empty working space, past rows of dark monitors and abandoned coffee mugs, my heels clicking, n