Page 67 of Highest Bidder

He kissed the back of my neck. “I mean it.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my back against his front. “I love you too.”

I still had a hard time believing I could say that out loud.

He reached up and squeezed my boob while murmuring in my ear, “You're still not allowed to touch the machine.”

I smiled. “Too late.”

He growled.Growled. Then yanked the mug from my hand and set it on the counter.

“I’m going to have to punish you.”

“Oh no! Not a punishment!” I mocked. “Whatever shall I do?”

He pushed the shirt up my back and bent me over the counter without another word.

This was my life now. No more stripping. No more scraping to get by. I was in school full-time, and for the first time I could ever remember, I was excited about my future.

Men might still see me at Velvet Underground—watch me sip bourbon in Jeff’s lap, half-dressed with his hand between my legs—but only one of them ever got to touch.

And right now, he was fucking me over the kitchen counter before his first cup of coffee.

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