When we walk to Micah’s car, Lance looks at me across the roof. “Really, dude? Really? Too out there? Dude?”
I snicker at how Lance is mimicking the investor’s overuse of the word dude.
He flashes a smile.
Beaver says groggily, “Your video needs tits. Lots of bouncing tits.”
“Shut the fuck up, Beaver,” Lance laughs.
“Who doesn’t like tits?” Beaver asks himself as we all climb into the car. “Do you not like tits, Chaz?” he asks me when we’re inside.
“I like mine.”
Beaver twists in his seat. “Lance, I’m telling you! Tits!”
“You can’t have tits in a YouTube video.” Lance is actually taking him seriously.
“Pasties. Like at a rave.”
“America is afraid of bouncing boobs, nipples or not.”
“America loves tits.They just won’t admit it. Wait and see. The twenty-first century will be the century of the tit. Breasts everywhere. Look at what Chaz is wearing.”
He’s right. My new black bra is visible beneath my short sleeve Lurex crop top.
“See?” Beaver says confidently. “Tits.”
Lance grumbles, “Stop staring at her tits, Beaver.”
“Just saying. Your video needs more tits. It doesn’t have to be Chaz’s tits. Any tits will do. Although hers are pretty spectacular…” He says it seriously, like he’s solving a math problem, not lusting after mine.
I snicker.
Micah laughs, “Beaver, you need a girlfriend.”
“I’ve got plenty.” Beaver frowns and folds his arms across his chest before going to sleep.
Back at the office, Beaver goes home.
Micah says, “Do you guys mind if I mix on the monitors?”
“Um…” I don’t know what he means.
Lance says, “He wants to use the speakers instead of headphones. I don’t care. Raise the roof.”
“Yeah,” I smile. “Go right ahead.”
Micah sits at his Mac and goes to work editing one of Lance’s songs. The music is loud and the beat thumps through the floor, shaking the entire building.
“Office,” Lance says to me.
I jog up the stairs.
When the glass door closes behind us, it mutes Micah’s monitors, but the music still booms through the room.
“I need to fuck,” Lance grunts, shrugging off his suit jacket and dropping it on his executive chair. He unbuttons his vest and rips it off. “Strip.” His brutal tone is shocking and his eyes scorch me like I’m his victim.
Um, no? How is this in any way acceptable behavior? More importantly, why am I peeling my top off without a second thought?
“Now the skirt.” He loosens his cuffs, removing cufflinks which he tosses on the corner of the desk.
His insistence fires my irritation. I throw my top in his face. “Make me.”
He catches the top and tosses it behind him. It bounces off the interior window and falls to the floor.
“Be careful you don’t run over my top with your chair. The Lurex is delicate and you paid good money for it.”
He snorts a laugh and practically tears his dress shirt off without unbuttoning it and throws it on his vest. “Strip, Pink. I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
Does he mean good scream or bad scream? I should hope he means the former but I want him to mean the latter. I am perverse. Why am I so turned on by his restrained rage? I bend down to unzip my motorcycle boots.
“Leave the boots on.”
“Okay then.” I stand up and unzip my leather skirt and shimmy it over my hips, stepping out of it. All that’s left is bra, panties, and boots. I plant my hands on my hips and my elbows flare. “Now what, your highness?”
“Dance.”
“Um, sorry. Not gonna happen.”
“Dance, Pink. Now.”
I fold my arms across my bra. “Sorry, your highness. I hate to break it to you, but I have zero experience. The only dance I know is the funky chicken. Or maybe the happy dance. So whatever sort of stripper fantasy your hoping to fulfill right now? Not. Gonna. Happen.”
His eyes burn. “Don’t make me come around this desk.” He’s not joking. He’s frightening.
“How about square dancing?” I squeak, afraid. “I did that in grade school. I can do-si-do.” I put my arms out in front of me in the do-si-do pose and step lively in a circle. Then I stick my elbow out and call, “Swing your partner!” I start giggling and stop dancing, bending over with my hands on my naked knees. I can’t decide if I think he’s ridiculous for acting this way or if he’s scaring me with his glare. Probably both.
His eyes smolder with pent up fury. Then he almost cracks, a flash of a smile, but it’s gone just as quick.
“Sorry,” I laugh. “You’re making me nervous. So I’m cracking jokes.”
“Feel the music.”
“Micah keeps starting and stopping it.” At the moment, it’s silent, but I swear he’s played the same ten seconds over and over at least ten times.
Lance turns around and rips the indoor window open and yells downstairs. “Micah!”
“Yeah?” he hollers.
Lance stares at me as he continues yelling down to Micah. “Leave the music playing.”
“I’m editing, Lance. Do you want me to put cans on so you don’t have to hear it?”
“No. Leave it loud and take a break. I don’t want you back here for an hour.”
“You sure? I’ve got plenty left to do. I was hoping to finish before eight so I could take Shiloh out to dinner tonight. We won’t have time for a movie after if I take an hour break now.”
Lance is obviously frustrated. “Leave the fucking music playing and leave. Go take Shiloh out early. And see a movie. On me. Bring the receipts back so I can expense it. But I don’t wanna see you here until tomorrow. Got it?”
“Yeah! Thanks, man!” Micah is obviously happy about it. “Shiloh will be stoked! Laters, people!”
“Bye!” I holler.
“Later, Chaz!”
The music booms through the studio a moment later, much louder with the window open.
Lance’s face darkens like he’s going to eat me alive.
Chapter 18
CHASTITY
“Dance,” Lance commands.
“I told you, I suck at dancing.”
“Feel the music.”
I slump my shoulders for a second. “Okay. I’ll try.”
I start moving, picturing all the sexy dance videos I’ve watched in secret over the years. Beyoncé, Britney Spears, Shakira. But it’s not like I studied their moves. Lark and I just jumped around to the songs like idiots. We weren’t exactly trying to master dancing.
Lance sits in his chair, feet up on the desk, hands behind his head. Is he enjoying himself? Or is he just irritated?
Who knows.
I twist and gyrate and move my hips as best I can. The next thing I know I’m breathing hard from the effort. I’m so busy dancing, I forget about Lance, but I’m completely focused on doing a good job. I want to impress him as much as he’s impressed me since day one. I don’t want him to see me as the innocent church girl I am. I want to be dirty and slutty and his perfect fantasy. Too bad I have nearly zero experience in that department. Wait, that’s not true. My mind drifts back to all the dirty things we’ve done since he first kissed me. I lose myself in the moment and I get a little bit turned on. I just hope Lance likes this.
When the song finishes and I plant my hands on the edge of his desk and flip my hair up over my head, he’s sitting there glaring at me. Now his arms are folded across his chest.
I frown. “Are you even enjoying this? I’m trying to do a good job.” And failing. Why does this make me want to cry? Because I feel like a failure as a woman? Oh yeah. That. It almost makes me mad, but I’m too confused to be angry. Just frustrated. “What am I doing wrong, Lance?”
“Stop asking questions.” He sits up suddenly and I jump back from the des
k. He steeples his fingers in front of him. “Touch yourself.”
“I just was. When I was dancing.”
“You’re going to make yourself come for me. I’m not going to lift a finger.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud.”
“Touch. Your. Self.”
“Fine. Be like that. But you’re not getting any of this tonight.” I motion at my crotch with hands like blades.
His devil’s grin curls. “I make the rules, Chastity. You do what I say.”
I’m not your property, Lance!! I’m not your whore!! I’m not your possession!! You don’t control me!! This is messed up!! You need therapy!! Like, years’ worth!! What is wrong with you?! My chest heaves as I think these thoughts. But not one leaves my lips. I push my panties down and fight with them as they tangle in the buckles of my boots. Stupid panties! But I get them off and throw them at him but they miss. Then I unhook my bra and throw that at him too.
He leans his head to the side, easily dodging my bad throw.
I snarl at him. “Fine! Tell me what to do! Fucking asshole!”
His slow smile spreads. “You realize that’s the first time you’ve ever said fuck in anger? You’re making progress.”
“What, are you trying to turn me into you? A foul mouthed asshole who treats women like shit to get your jollies?”
“No. I’m trying to de-program you. Your mom turned you into a robot. You may not realize it, but you follow the script she beat into you.”
“She didn’t beat me.”
“Maybe not physically. But mentally? That woman is a nightmare.” He snorts, “And I thought my dad was bad.”
I should be hurt by his words. But I also know how sensitive he is about his dad. He means it in some strange way that makes sense, but I can’t yet figure out how.
“Chastity, your Mom and all her bullshit is a part of you. That’s what happens to anyone who has a parent. I was a fucking carbon copy of my dad for the longest time. It took a lot of work to not end up like him. I almost ended up where he is. But here I am.”
“Well, you did good, asshole.” My anger is half-hearted.
“All these sex games are for fun. For a release. But the only thing I really want from you is for you to find yourself. Get rid of all that shit your mom shoved down your throat. Become the person you want to be.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing! We had sex in a clothing store, for goodness sake! My Mom would never do anything like that!”
“Goodness sake? You’re still her daughter.”
“Oh!” I stamp my booted foot. He’s right. Nobody I know except Charity ever says goodness sake or oh ship or cheese us.
“You may think you’re your own person, but it takes a long time to wipe the slate clean. It did me, believe me. And some parts of you never change, no matter how hard you try.” He lowers his eyes, shaking his head, probably thinking about his dad. “I’m just here to keep pushing you in whatever direction you want to go. What direction that is, I don’t know. But you’ll find it.” He smiles to himself, “And if we fuck a lot in the process, so much the better.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Experience.”
Moments like this are a stark reminder that Lance is eight years older than me and didn’t live a sheltered life with an ultra religious mother. He knows all about the big bad world and I know so shamefully little. But he’s sharing his secrets, the keys to living a better life. With me. He obviously figured out how to build an awesome life. All I have to do is look around this office. He’s not his dad. He escaped his humble beginnings and found success. And he’s sharing it with me by making me a small part of it. Is that why him talking to me this way is such an incredible turn on? Obviously. But it’s something else. I nod my head and smile. “You care about me, don’t you?” I expect an evasive answer.
He smiles. “Yes.”
“Why—”
“Shut up and touch yourself.” He kicks his feet back up on the desk.
Now I want to touch myself. My pussy feels warm and wonderful and it’s begging to be touched. “Can I ask one question?”
“One.”
“Why do I have to touch myself when I totally want to have sex with you right now? Don’t you want to have sex with me?”
“That’s two questions. I’ll answer the first.”
I snort a laugh, “Fuck you, Lance.” He is so irritating.
He smiles, proud of himself.
I hate him more. But I’m embarrassed to admit it’s hate in a good way.
“I totally want to watch you make yourself come right now. For real. No faking. I’ll know if you’re faking. I want you dripping all over yourself. Got it?” He unbuckles his slacks and squirms them and his silk boxers down until his cock jumps out, hard as a rock.
“You are so weird.”
“You think that now…” He grips his shaft and starts to stroke. “Start touching. Or you’re gonna watch me come and I’ll be all done for the night. So if you wanna fuck me, you better come first. That’s how this game works.”
“Game? What happened to me being my own person? You’re controlling me more than my mom ever did.”
“I’m not controlling you. You choose to leave or stay. The door’s right behind you. Walk out any time you want. But if you stay we play it my way.”
So I touch myself. Not because Lance told me.
I touch myself…
For me.
++++8++++
LANCE
Watching Chastity finger herself is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. She’s bold. Brave. A fucking sex bomb.
She drops into a chair in front of my desk and hooks the heels of her boots on the edge. She pushes the chair back so her hot red pussy is in full view. I’m fucking hypnotized by the way the skin stretches as she slides four fingers across the surface. The corners of her lips pop out between them. That shit is fucking hot. I fucking love lips. And they are fucking wet and engorged with blood. The tight skin stretches and retracts as she works it. It takes everything I have not to jump over the desk and fuck her right now. She’s been on the pill for more than a week. I could come inside her right now.
But I wait.
This shit is too good to miss.
The look in her narrowed eyes is total confidence. They challenge me with a threat. A dare. I don’t know fucking what.
I am addicted to the witch’s brew between Chastity’s legs.
I stroke myself slowly, enjoying every second of this.
“You want this?” She sneers as she bites her lower lip and dips a finger inside her pussy and holds it there. “You can’t have it. Look but don’t touch, Lance.” Her eyeliner, which she just started wearing a few days ago, is a little bit smudged, adding a sultry darkness to her eyes.
She pulls out and drags her finger around her clit in slow motion. Her head falls back on the chairback and she moans. She’s not faking. Not some stripper or model chick pretending to get off so they can get in your wallet. This is the real deal.
Chastity is as turned on as I am.
“Taste it,” I grunt.
“What?”
“Taste yourself.”
Her dark eyes smolder. She’s sneering again. She dips her middle finger into her pussy. Drives it deep. Slow. All the way to her knuckles. Fuck. She drags it out and flips me off. It’s a wet lollipop of girl cum. “You want this, don’t you? You want to taste it, don’t you?”
Fuck yeah I do.
She snorts a laugh. “Well, fuck you. You can’t.” She licks her finger lollipop, savoring her sugar.
My dick twitches and I’m going to come. I instantly release my hand and try to relax, but every muscle in my dick and ass is locked up tight. A pulse runs up the shaft. Here comes the cum. I force out a slow breath, dropping all the tension in my dick and balls and manage to relax just in time to halt a full ejaculation, but a single bead of cum blooms at the tip as a wave of orgasm floods through me. God damn it, this
feels good.
I stare at her, watching her suck on her syrupy finger.
I want to lick it clean. I want to fuck her till she screams.
I would never tell her this, but Chastity Fucking Shields is the hottest sexiest god damn perfectest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, to fuck, to eat.
Dinner time.
++++8++++
CHASTITY
Lance leans forward in his executive chair like he’s about to stand up. “I’m gonna eat that sopping pussy of yours, Pink. Eat it till you come all over my face.”
I laugh, “No you’re not. Remember, no touching.”
He eases back down in the chair and grins that devil’s grin, entirely too satisfied with himself. He’s loving this but he won’t admit it. His hands squeeze the armrests of his chair like he has to hold on to that or he’ll try to grab me.
To my surprise, I’m making the rules. Funny what playing with yourself in front of a man will get you if you’re willing to try. Can you say, Shift in the Power Dynamic?
I tease, “If you want to touch something, Lance, touch yourself.”
Between the V of my thighs, I watch him stroke himself slowly. I scoot my ass a little further down in the chair so he won’t miss a thing as I resume touching myself. Then I sneer at him while I smear my fingers around my lips before returning them to my clit. With my other hand, I insert two fingers and start to fuck myself. It feels so damn good. I moan as my vagina tightens in a pre-orgasmic contraction. My eyes clamp and I moan long. “Nnnnnnn…”
“Fuck,” he grunts, his face bunching. His hand suddenly freezes and squeezes the bright red tip of his dick. Only the very end of the swollen head pokes out. “I… can’t—” Suddenly cum fires from his cock and he leans back in his executive chair, groaning loud.
I climb out of my chair and crawl onto the desktop, swiping a pile of papers out of my way. His legs are slack and I plant my hands on the seat of the chair on either side of his hips. He sits up when my weight tips the chair forward, giving me easier access to my target. My mouth dives at his cock, catching the last of him as he spurts onto my tongue. He’s still large and I can’t take him all the way in, but I try, kissing the shaft with my lips, swallowing cum down my throat.
The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity Page 20