Page 120 of Damaged Mogul
“Yes.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Nope. Your face is dead serious.
“You want a bite or not?”
This has nothing to do with the food.
“Um…”
My gaze shifts left to right.
People are minding their own business.
What to do?
What to do?
I drop my plate to the side, get on my hands and knees, making sure my skirt isn’t in the way, before crawling to him.
“That’s it.” His eyes flash with something raw. Primal, even. “Crawl to daddy.”
Those three little words spoken in his deep voice are so fucking hot.
This guy doesn’t hold back. Forget about a hint of sensual teasing, he’s dosing me with hedonism.
And fuck do I crave it.
Although I’m submitting to his command, I feel so powerful.
I sit back on my haunches next to him.
“You submit beautifully,” he says. “Now, open wide.”
I do as I’m told.
He feeds me, his eyes bouncing from my gaze to my mouth.
Holy hell.
This is hot.
Scratch that.
This is five-alarm scorching hot.
We’re both dressed and we’re in public, but this feels as intimate as when he was rubbing his cock against my clit this morning.
Coming to LA was about scouting film schools. I didn’t expect I’d end up with a PhD in naughtiness. Talk about a crash course.
Gage Hollingsworth has a dirty mind and a penchant for debauchery.
Why is this such a turn on?
As I close my mouth around a bite, some of the melted cheese sticks to my chin. I’m about to scoop it up with my finger before it lands on my clothing, when he stops me. He leans into me and licks it offwith his tongue.
