She bent over just enough for the red skirt to ride up โ not by accident. Iโd picked the skirt. Iโd picked the bar. Hell, Iโd picked the whole damn night.
Three college boys couldnโt stop staring, and I didnโt blame them. No panties. No shame. Just that pale ass catching light like a beacon. I sat in the corner, quiet, drinking, and watching my girl put on the kind of show that ends in bruises and moaning.
When she got the signal โ just a nod from me โ she moved. Smooth. Like sin in heels. And I watched three barely-legal wolves follow her scent straight to the elevator.
They didnโt know what was waiting upstairs. But I did.
Theyโd watch her crawl, beg, and fall apart under their hands. Theyโd taste her. Use her. But theyโd never own her.
Thatโs my job.
A,
tbc