Page 136 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Bryce nodssolemnly.
Nigel steps forward and delicately pinches the lace with two gloved fingers, like it’s a napkin in Casa Cashmere’s fancy dining room. He pulls it out and sets it on the nightstand.
“Excellent service as always, Nigel. Please place those on the side table. And might I trouble you to arrange a hearty breakfast from the kitchen? I anticipate an energetic morning ahead.”
That’s it. I explode—snorting loud enough to shake the door.
Nigel’s nose twitches. Barely. He doesn’t look toward the closet. But he knows.Oh, he knows.
“Of course. Shall I reinstate this oral barrier, sir?” he asks as he delicately raises my underwear.
“No, thank you,” Bryce replies smoothly. “But I appreciate your discretion.”
“As always, Mr. Sterling.”
He bows, sets the panties beside the bowl, and exits the room without so much as a backward glance.
The moment the door clicks shut, I burst from the closet, laughing so hard I collapse to my knees.
“A hearty breakfast!” I wheeze. “The oral barrier! Oh my God, you two were so polite, I thought you might start discussing the weather!” I wipe a tear, still gasping. “See? I told you this snobby place had a concierge with a fancy bowl of condoms. Five-star service strikes again!”
“I’m glad my humiliation brought you joy.”
“Indeed it did, good sir,” I say in my best Butler Lord Britchybottom impression. “Would you care for theWall Street Journaland a vibrating cock ring to kickstart your morning?”
“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Untie me now.”
“Oh, Bryce,” I sigh, sashaying toward the bed with a hand on my hip. “That was your punishment. We haven’t gotten to thefunyet.”
His gaze darkens. “If it involves using those hundreds of condoms, I’m enthusiastically on board.”
“Nope. Not the plan. You don’t get to touch. You don’t even get tothrust. You get towatch.”
I let my robe fall open and position myself between his legs, my fingers tracing up the inside of his thigh. The way he reacts to my touch, fighting the silk restraints, sends me a rush of power.
From my robe pocket, I pull out my tube of Wet n’ Wild red. I pop the cap and twist it up with deliberate slowness. Bryce freezes, his jaw tightening, his gaze glued to my mouth as I glide the red across my lips and press them together.
“I was going to make you suffer a little longer, but you’ve been such a good little hostage.”
I toss the pillow aside and wrap my fingers around his length, marveling at how ready he is for me.
“Mmm. I’m in for a delicious challenge. I hope it fits.”
His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the restraints.
“Keep those beautiful eyes on me, Moneybags. I want you to witness your fantasy.”
“Petra, you don’t have to—”
His words? Gone.Wrecked by the sight of me bending over and tracing his cock with my tongue. In one long, torturous stroke, I lap him up, base to tip.
Then, I seal my crimson lips around him and take him deep, never breaking eye contact.
“Christ! Fuck! Petra!” The words tear from his throat—a string of broken curses—that have me smiling around histhick shaft.
That’s right, B. Burn this image into your brain.
Because I’m making damn sure I live rent-free in your head for the rest of your straight-laced, buttoned-up life.
