Page 262 of Damaged Mogul
“You’re a helluva hostess.”
“You’re doing me a favor. The least I can do is make sureallyour needs are met…”
She isn’t subtle.
I fucking love it.
“Careful what you wish for, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Like you said, I’m being a good hostess.”
I approach her, towering over her even in her fuck-me heels. “I’m sure your husband would have an issue with you being too friendly.”
She makes a show of glancing around the kitchen before fixing me with her blue eyes. “Do you see my husband? Because I don’t.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You’re one ofthosehousewives.”
“My husband isn’t going to know how friendly I am with you.”
“Why don’t I check your pipes?”
She rewards me with a salacious smile. “I’ll let you get to work.”
With that, she turns on her heel and strides out of the kitchen, swinging her tempting hips left to right.
I walk towards the cabinets located under the sink and open them.
I squat and pretend to assess the problem. I even tap against the pipe a few times.
I stand up, lean against the counter, cross one booted foot over the other at the ankle, and wait.
Lily’s heels click against the granite floor, announcing her return.
When she enters the kitchen, she’s wearing a belted red mini dress. She’s still wearing high heels, but she swapped the hot pink ones for a pair of open-toe slippers with a faux red fur that have a distinct 1950s vibe to them. Her hot pink lips are now fire engine red.
Fuck. Me.
Her long black hair is braided and falls over one shoulder.
Lily’s hair cascading over her shoulders, down to her waist? Unquestionably sexy. Lily’s hair braided? All that exquisitehair transformed into a rope that begs to be wrapped around my fist as I fuck her from behind.
It’s my kryptonite, and she knows it.
Without the curtain of raven hair hiding her features, it’s impossible to miss how exquisite she is. High cheekbones, an adorable pointed chin, pouty mouth, and big, blue eyes.
Damn thatlethal beauty.
She pulled out all the stops.
Not only is she begging to get fucked, but she wants it rough.
I’m too happy to oblige.
My eyes travel down her body.
I always got an eyeful of her pregnant belly when she was rubbing one out on camera during our video calls while I jerked off. I want to reach out and cup it to make contact with our child, but I resist. That would be out of character.
“It’s still so hot.” She fans herself. “Never mind the top-of-the-line air conditioning. I can barely handle any clothes.” She sashays towards me. “Were you able to fix my pipes, Sawyer?”
