Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I sigh and grumble to myself. The only solution to my problem would be to cut things off now. Completely stop speaking to him.
But who am I kidding? As if I’d ever be able to do that.
I’m so easily persuaded to do things because my body wants it.
So before I change my mind, I quickly type in the chat.
NaughtyKitten: Changed your mind?
D: We should talk more about the other night.
NaughtyKitten: Right … if you say so.
D: Yes or no?
NaughtyKitten: Yes, sir!
D: Good Kitten. Sleep well. Don’t be too naughty.
NaughtyKitten: I’ll think of you before I rub one out.
D: Take some pictures if you do. Bring them with you tomorrow.
NaughtyKitten: Will do, if I take them.
D: Good. And one last thing … what’s your number?
I pause, staring at the screen for a second. I thought he was against giving out personal details, and a telephone number is definitely personal. Then again, this might mean he’s up for something more. Maybe I should trust him. After all, I already did everything I wasn’t supposed to, so maybe this is a great way to extend an olive branch.
So I send him my phone number and wait for his reply.
D: Thanks.
NaughtyKitten: You’re not going to give me yours?
D: You’ll get it when I give it.
The chat ends, and he goes offline.
Well, fuck me … that was quick.
Why would he not give me his number? Is he afraid I’m going to use it for something bad? Or maybe he wants to take things slow …
Well, one thing’s for sure, the moment he texts me, I’ll know his number.
I grin as I close the chat site and curl up with my phone in my hand.
Fuck me. I’m really losing my shit to this man.
The next day, I march into the hotel without shame. Without the mask, no one will recognize me anyway. The bellhop immediately walks toward me when he spots me, and for a second there, I fear he might remember me from that day I lied to his face.
“Hello, ma’am. Can I ask you what your room number is, please?”
“No room. I’m here for an appointment with Mr. D. Porter,” I reply.
He frowns and says, “Oh … do you mind if I check this with him?”
Well, well. I guess they upped their security. Declan probably reprimanded them because of me.
“Sure, go ahead,” I say with a smirk. This time, I don’t come uninvited.
“One second,” the bellhop says, and he leans over the desk and calls a number using the phone there. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Kat,” I say, smiling.
There’s a quick conversation back and forth, but I’m not listening. I’d much rather look at the guests, trying to find one I recognize from that night. I wish I could pinpoint them just by their hairstyles, but it’s proving much more difficult than I thought. I guess the masks did provide ample protection for the guests.
I wonder if all events are like that. Secretive. Exclusive. Sensual.
What would the women’s nights look like? Or the gay nights? I hope there are mixed nights too. There probably are, knowing people and their sexual needs.
I wish I could see all the events, but I’m pretty sure Declan won’t let me. And now that he’s caught me red-handed, I doubt I’d ever be able to sneak into the other events.
I guess I should be lucky I even got into one of them. And what a memory it is.
At first, I wasn’t sure whether I liked it because I was struck in awe at what I was seeing right in front of me. But after letting it sink in, I realized that was only the initial shock, which I got over pretty quickly.
So quickly, I knew the next day I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I could.
A door has opened wide for me, and I don’t think I want to shut it.
“Okay, you’re good to go,” the bellhop says as he puts the phone back on the desk. “He’s waiting upstairs for you, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I say, winking as I walk off.
That was surprisingly easy. Then again, I have nothing to hide this time.
I make my way up to his office and knock on his door. It takes him a while to answer.
“Come in.” His voice already makes the goose bumps scatter on my skin even though he didn’t say anything sexually charged. My body is so used to following his commands that it gets excited at the slightest amount he gives.
When I open the door and step inside, he’s already waiting in front of his desk, casually dipping his hands into his pocket.
“Glad you came,” he says.
Immediately, the image of me coming on his lap flashes into my mind.
From the look on his face, I think he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Goddamn him and his constant innuendos.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply.