9. Hailee
Chapter nine
Hailee
W hat a smartass.
As if I wouldn’t bring a pen with me to sign a contract. Skimming through the first page, I’m met with a bunch of legal jargon outlining the involved parties and blah, blah, blah . I flip to the end: it’s a whopping forty-five pages long. I let out a long exhale, wishing I had that champagne right about now.
The extravagant jet interior pulls my attention from the paperwork. It’s one thing to know that someone is a billionaire but experiencing it firsthand is a whole new level. The plane is extraordinary, unlike anything I’ve ever laid eyes on, even in movies. It’s beyond my wildest imagination. I struggle to comprehend the kind of wealth required to own something like this—it’s in an entirely different ballpark to my mother’s. Yet, the plane isn’t the only extraordinary thing here. Dameon is lounging before me in gray sweatpants, paired with sneakers and a tight black T-shirt. My brain short-circuits from the visual stimulation. He seems to grow hotter every time I see him.
I sneak another glance, finding him diligently typing on his keyboard, a look of concentration etched on his perfectly sculpted face. His sharp jawline is prominent, as if his teeth are clenched, and when he runs a hand through his hair, he tugs slightly on the long ends. He’s clearly frustrated. And I bet I could make him feel better.
“Focus, Hailee,” he says without taking his eyes off the screen.
Damn it, when did he start reading minds?
I fake a pout, mumbling “party pooper” under my breath. From the corner of my eye, I catch a twitch at the edge of his lips. And just like that, my panties become a little bit wetter.
With a sigh I flip back to page two and begin reviewing the compensation details. True to his word, everything is listed as discussed. One million US dollars will be deposited into my nominated bank account at the end of each month. I skim the rest, searching for the section regarding Beth, anticipating some kind of stipulation about his promised phone call to the transplant board. But what I find brings tears to my eyes.
Special Clause: Dameon Hayward (the Dominant) guarantees that Beth Mann (the Patient) will receive a heart transplant as soon as a match becomes available. The Dominant will exert every effort to secure the operation, including but not limited to: contacting the transplant board, ensuring the Patient is prioritized on the waiting list by any means necessary; engaging the best surgeons and medical professionals for the Patient’s care; covering all costs associated with the operation; providing a dedicated full-time nurse for the Patient’s recovery; arranging suitable living accommodations; and supplying all necessary personnel, such as a chef, housekeeper, guardian, nurse, educator, rehabilitation trainers, and facilities to assist in the Patient’s recovery.
Emotion wells up in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. I can’t bring myself to look at him right now; I’ll break down into a blubbering mess. This gesture surpasses anything I could have imagined. The fact that he’s willing to go above and beyond for Beth because she’s important to me is incredibly touching.
But it’s not merely about what he’s offering; it goes deeper than that. It’s about having someone to share the heavy burden of caring for someone who’s ill. To have someone take control and manage all the logistics. The relief is like diving into the cool ocean on a scorching summer day. The realization that I no longer have to face this alone, that he has my back, is overwhelming. I have a sinking feeling that striking that backup deal with Mark is going to haunt me.
I subtly dab my eyes and sniffle, hoping he doesn’t notice me falling apart in front of him. But I sense his gaze watching me intently. He’s always been attuned to my emotional wellbeing when we’ve been together at Eden. I suppose that’s why he’s such a good dom.
“Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely, keeping my head down, eyes glued to the page.
“You’re welcome, Hailee.” His deep, smooth cadence is a balm to my soul.
I clear my throat and move on to the contract termination clause.
At the conclusion of this twelve-month agreement, both the Dominant and the Submissive will part ways, releasing each other of all prior commitments. Either party reserves the right to terminate the agreement early for any reason. Upon termination of the contract, no further compensation will be provided, except as outlined in the Special Clause.
I whip my head up, finding his attention still firmly locked on me.
“Are you serious? I can leave at any time, and you’ll still provide everything that you’ve stipulated in this contract for Beth?” I ask, astounded.
“That’s correct.”
“But, why? What would stop me from leaving as soon as Beth has her new heart?”
“Nothing… But you won’t,” he states confidently.
Leaning forward, he peers deep into my eyes. “Because I know you, Hailee. I know your deepest, darkest desires. And when you finally commit to throwing yourself into this lifestyle rather than just playing a role, when you let go and accept that your body and mind want to follow me instinctively, you’ll come to realize your full potential. And then, you won’t want to leave.”
I’m stunned into silence, wholly confused by this man’s generosity, yet deep down, I know he’s right. Keeping my walls up around him is going to be near impossible, but I don’t have a choice. This is an agreement, clearly stating that the Dominant and the Submissive will part ways after twelve months, releasing each other of all prior commitments. This has to remain a job, a role I play. Otherwise, Beth won’t be the only one mending a broken heart.
I lower my eyes from his all-knowing, piercing stare back to the page, flipping over until I find the good part… the deliciously salacious part.
The roles and expectations of the Submissive (Hailee Mann) and the Dominant (Dameon Hayward) are outlined below. The Submissive is tasked with satisfying the Dominant’s needs and desires whenever possible, with the expectation of pleasing him. To fulfill this, the Submissive will willingly offer the use of her body, vaginally, anally, and orally. The Dominant assumes the responsibility of utilizing the Submissive’s body for the fulfillment and enhancement of both of their sexual needs. To achieve this, he possesses unrestricted access to the Submissive’s body at any time, in any place, and in the presence of anyone he deems appropriate. The primary duty of the Submissive is to please. This entails attending the Dominant’s physical and emotional needs; acting as his sexual plaything; providing physical comfort; demonstrating obedience; maintaining honesty and loyalty; and fulfilling any desires of the Dominant. Respect must be shown at all times. Disrespect is considered a serious offense and will result in punishment. Respect is demonstrated through speech, timeliness, willingness to kneel and serve (when able), providing thorough responses, obedience, and unwavering honesty. The Submissive must address the Dominant as “Sir” or “Master” at all times, including in public. In situations where privacy is limited, the Submissive may address the Dominant by his given name. The Submissive must conform to the Dominant’s preferences regarding attire. Contraception use is mandatory for the duration of the agreement with the Dominant and will be overseen by a physician chosen by the Dominant. The Submissive will only achieve orgasm with the explicit permission of the Dominant…
Holy. Shit.
The contract goes on and on, detailing punishments, hard and soft limits, and safety measures, including the safe word “red.” I should feel overwhelmed by the exhaustive list of rules and requirements. But at this moment, my body is pulsing with an urgent need that eclipses everything else. I squirm in my seat, heat and dampness building in my jeans. The urge to slide my hand under the table and apply pressure to my clit grows stronger by the second. The relentless throbbing is almost unbearable. I wonder if I can…
“Don’t even think about it.”
My breath catches when I meet his stormy sea-green gaze.
“Rest assured, I will tend to my pretty pussy soon enough, kitten. She’s mine to touch, lick, and stroke. No one else will lay a finger on what’s mine, including you. Do you understand?”
I nod, struggling to suppress a whimper.
“Fill in your limits and sign,” he commands.
I fly through the remaining paperwork, replicating my limits from Eden—which pretty much includes everything except bloodplay—scribble my signature, and slide it over to Dameon. He briefly scans it, grunts his agreement, and countersigns. Abruptly he stands and moves to one of the cream sofas in the center of the plane.
He reclines and spreads his legs wide. Then he snaps his fingers and points to the floor between his legs. My knees weaken when I stand, and every step toward him feels unsteady. When I reach him, I immediately drop between his legs.
He leans in close, lifting my chin with two fingers, his breath warm against my lips. “Eyes on me at all times,” he murmurs. His eyes dart back and forth between my eyes and lips. “I own you, goddess, for a year. Your body and your mind. You don’t do anything without permission, including breathing.”
My breath hitches as he crushes his lips against mine, his grip on my hair guiding my head to his desired angle. His tongue sweeps past my lips, and I moan at the heady taste of whiskey lingering on his tongue. His scent slams into me, a mix of cologne and something uniquely him, and I’m completely lost in the taste, scent, and feel of him. He invades my senses, taking control of my entire being. When he pulls back, I gasp for air, as if it could somehow clear him from my head.
“Fuck. You taste good.”
Mmm, my sentiments exactly, Mr. Hayward.
“Stand and strip.”
I gratefully accept Dameon’s offered hand, rising from my knees and kicking off my flats, then shimmy my tight jeans down over my ass. Removing these skin-tight jeans usually involves contorting my body into ridiculous positions while huffing and puffing a few choice swear words. There’s nothing remotely sexy about it. And as expected, they get stuck halfway down my thighs.
“Erm… can I get a little help here, sir?”
Dameon chuckles. “And that’s exactly why you won’t be wearing pants from now on. I want quick and discreet access to my cunt at all times.”
Oof, this man certainly has a way with words.
“Hold onto my shoulders.”
I grasp his shoulders with both hands, the muscles bunching beneath my touch. Clutching my waist, he draws me closer, and manages to peel the jeans down my thighs a few more inches until they get stuck again. With a series of rough tugs, he forces the material down, causing me to burst out laughing, cutting the intense sexual tension.
“I’m going to burn these fuckers. They’ll never see the light of day again,” he mutters under his breath. I burst into laughter once more, and his gorgeous smile makes an appearance, setting off those beautiful dimples. I decide to make it my personal mission to make him smile as often as possible over the next year.
“I like your laugh. It’s cute and contagious… like you.” Dameon’s still grinning as he lifts each foot, pulling off my jeans. He tosses them aside, grips my waist and dives face-first into my crotch, running his nose and up and down my slit over my drenched panties.
He inhales deeply. “Mmm, you smell incredible. Take these off.”
I step back and pull down my panties, then peel off my white crop top, leaving me bare as the day I was born. Dameon examines my body, his gaze traveling from the top of my head to the tips of my pink-painted toes. His eyes narrow when they settle on my ribs.
“Who did this to you?” His voice carries a gruff edge.
“What are you talking about?”
“This.” He lifts my arm and ghosts his fingertips over my bruised ribs. His touch is feather-light, making my skin prickle.
“Oh… that. It’s nothing. I did it myself.” I wave off his concern.
“Explain.” His tone remains deep and husky.
“I fell over in the bath. It was stupid, really,” I admit rather sheepishly. Considering he looks ready to commit murder, I’m not about to mention that I do stupid shit like that all the time.
“You will take more care in the future. I’m the only one allowed to mark this beautiful skin. Neglecting yourself and your body counts as disrespect, and you will be punished for it. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The words fly out of my mouth without thought, and I resist the urge to salute him.
“Good girl,” he replies, smirking. He pats his thigh. “Sit, kitten, let me take care of that needy pussy for you.”
I position myself in his lap, relishing the sensation of his clothes against my hypersensitive naked skin. He adjusts me so my back is against his chest and spreads my legs over his parted ones, leaving my pussy fully exposed. His fingertips trail down my throat, lightly stroking my chest and tracing circles around each nipple, coaxing them into tight buds. Moving lower, he eventually arrives at my slick folds and grunts when he feels how wet I’ve become. With deliberate slowness, he glides his fingers up and down my slit, gathering my wetness before zeroing in on my clit. His touch is gentle, unhurried. So, I lean back against him, resting my head on his shoulder, and close my eyes as he leisurely pleasures me at his own pace.
Up and down.
Up and down.
I release a contented sigh, enjoying the comforting sensation that slowly stokes the flames of my arousal.
“Let’s go over some house rules, goddess,” he whispers against the shell of my ear.
“Every morning, you’ll wake me with your hot little mouth on my cock. You’ll remain naked at all times in my house, including in front of my household staff. They’ve all signed NDAs and are aware of my proclivities. You’ll stay naked even when we have guests over, unless I state otherwise. During the day, when I’m not at home, you’re free to choose your outfit as long as it doesn’t include pants, shorts, a bra or panties.” He pauses for a moment. “Except when you want to exercise.
“You’ll greet me at the door on your knees in the traditional submissive position,” he continues to softly whisper in my ear, his hot breath tickling my skin. His pace and pressure on my slit haven’t changed, but his words alone have brought me closer to the edge.
“Look at you, kitten, you’ve drenched my sweats. Do you like my house rules? Does it turn you on, hmm?”
I moan and arch my back, chasing the friction I need to drop off that cliff into ecstasy.
“Do you need to come?”
“Yesss!” I hiss.
He turns my chin toward him and smashes his lips firmly against mine, kissing me passionately, a battle of lips, teeth, and tongue. He ramps up the pace with his fingers, sending me into a frenzy before giving my pussy a sharp, short slap.
“You can come.”
I gasp as my orgasm rolls through my body like an earthquake, leaving me shivering in its wake.
“Good girl,” he murmurs with obvious approval.
I slump back against him, taking a few deep breaths to calm my hammering heart. He brings his fingers, still glistening with my essence, to his mouth and savors my taste.
“Mmm, fucking delicious. But I need more.” Rising from the sofa, he carries me bridal style to the dining room.
“Time for my snack.” He winks as he crosses the threshold.
I huff a laugh, enjoying this unexpectedly corny side to him. He gently lays me out on the dining table, the polished dark wood biting cold against my back, making me shiver again. He sits in a high-back chair and grips my ankles, dragging me toward him and pushing open my legs until his face is right on top of my core. He lazily draws his tongue up my slit and moans.
“You’re gonna come two more times for me,” he commands.
I shake my head. “I can’t, I’m too sensitive.”
“That wasn’t a request. I’ll take it slowly, but you will give me two more.” His hard eyes on mine make my core clench. Dameon gets back to work, and just like before, he’s in no rush, savoring me like a fine wine. His eyes are closed, and he’s lost in the moment, lost in my taste. He’s enjoying pleasuring me, and it makes it so much hotter. Dameon has always been amazing at eating pussy; it’s his specialty, and something I’ve always craved during our time together at Eden. Eating pussy is a lot like eating ribs: if it’s not all over your face and fingers, you’re not doing it right. And Dameon doesn’t hold back. He’s a man on a mission and won’t stop until I’m screaming his name, and he’s covered in my juices.
I relax against the table with my hands raised over my head, enjoying the sensation of his thick tongue exploring the contours of my pussy. So far, he’s astutely avoided my clit, as he leisurely traces the outline, drawing each lip into his mouth for a sensual suck. His tongue delves between my folds, circling my entrance before briefly plunging inside and then withdrawing.
When he lifts his head from between my legs, he growls, “Incredible.” Not wanting to miss the show, I raise myself onto my elbows to watch him. He presses a small silver button on the table and dives back to my pussy, spreading my thighs wide in a tight grip to ensure I’m fully exposed once again. He thrusts two fingers inside me, and my body easily accepts them with no resistance. He works me expertly, drawing out every bit of pleasure with his tongue while his fingers move inside me, causing my legs to shake.
A moment later, a female voice clears her throat. “Excuse me, sir. Did you need something?”
I’m shocked to find Chelsea standing to his left. I didn’t even notice her arrival. Dameon hasn’t stopped his wicked tongue, and Chelsea’s eyes are firmly planted on my pussy, watching him eat me out. Her lips part and her pupils dilate.
Without missing a beat, and without removing his face from between my legs, he speaks, his voice a little muffled. “Please bring Hailee something to eat.”
“And what about you, sir, can I get you anything?” She swallows and licks her dry lips.
“This is all I need.”
Chelsea lingers by his side, her eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to Dameon’s skillful ministrations. His talented tongue and the presence of a witness send me spiraling out of control. I collapse against the hard table, my body arching in response to the overwhelming stimulation.
“Is there something you need, Chelsea?”
“No, sir,” she breathes, yet she remains unmoving despite being dismissed.
“Would you like a taste of my kitten?”
Dameon’s face remains buried in my pussy throughout the interaction. And Chelsea hasn’t taken her eyes off the scene unfolding before her, utterly captivated.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over my moans. His domination, the control he has over this room and everyone in it, combined with her presence, is driving me to the edge at lightning speed.
“Kitten, let go.”
He sucks my clit into his mouth hard and I explode, my core tightening around his fingers, flooding his mouth as stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Good girl.” He taps my outer thigh in approval.
“You may have a taste, Chelsea.”
Panting hard, I lift myself back up onto my elbows and watch as she brings her face close to his. For a brief moment, I think she’s about to kiss him, but at the last minute, her tongue peeks out from behind her full lips, and she licks my juices off his lips, chin, then around his cheeks, until he’s thoroughly clean.
“How does she taste?”
“Mmm… exquisite,” she sighs, licking her lips.
“I might let you taste it from the source next time—if my kitten wants it.”
My clit pulses hard at the thought. That was fucking hot.
“I would like that very much, sir.” She bows her head before exiting the dining room. I collapse back onto the table, my mind reeling.
“On your hands and knees, kitten, and back that gorgeous ass onto my face. You owe me one more.”
I’m a boneless, sweaty mess, but I obey and roll over, arching my back so that my pussy is at the right level for him. He slaps my ass hard, and I yelp in surprise.
“Shh, that was a light tap. Come on, one more time for me before Chelsea gets back,” he demands.
He spreads my cheeks and trails his tongue up my crack, teasing my back entrance in a way that makes me lose my mind in pleasure. He runs the tip of his tongue around the rim over and over again, and when he finally pushes inside, he reaches underneath and flicks my clit with his finger.
I’m utterly drained, completely spent, yet I feel that familiar pull in my abdomen building toward another earth-shattering release. It’s hurtling toward me at such a speed that it scares me. I can’t control it; I’m completely at the mercy of the man who is playing my body like a violin. The climax hits me so hard it’s almost painful. My eyes squeeze shut and I scream out his name, completely lost in the moment.
“Fuck me, that was incredible. You’re incredible,” he breathes out softly. He gathers me in his arms, placing me on his lap and giving my knees reprieve from the hard table. He soothes back the sweaty hair on my forehead and drops a kiss. It’s intimate and gentle, exactly what I need in this moment. I curl into his chest as he tenderly rubs my back.
“Chelsea will be back in a minute with your food. Take a seat so she can serve you.”
I slide out of his lap, moving to the other side of the table. Exhaustion washes over me as I flop onto the chair.
Chelsea returns, wheeling a silver cart with an array of decadent food, along with a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on ice. She places a platter of cheese, fruit, and nuts on the table. I bite the inside of my cheek to conceal my smirk; I was laid bare on this table only a few short moments ago. Chelsea pours each of us a glass of champagne and turns to leave, but not before looking me dead in the eye, astutely avoiding my nakedness. An unspoken conversation flies between us. There’s no need for words.
You lucky bitch. Enjoy it.
Oh, I intend to.
She offers me a slight smile and slips out of the dining room without even a glance at Dameon. I chuckle at our strange encounter. It seems we’ve reached some sort of truce. An agreement, if you will.
“What was that about?” Dameon’s head is lowered, fingers tapping away at his phone.
Geez, this man doesn’t miss a thing.
“Nothing much.” I shrug.
He looks up, raising an eyebrow.
“Apparently, Chelsea and I are now friends,” I explain, widening my eyes.
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips.
I take a sip of fizz and sink into the plush high-back chair. My face is still flushed and I’m sweating like a pig, but I could easily get used to this high-flying lifestyle with its multiple orgasms and French champagne.
I make a small plate of food, piling it high with cheese, crackers, and strawberries. Honestly, what’s the point of these tiny-ass plates? You can only fit two, maybe three pieces at most.
Dameon snorts, eyeing my towering plate.
“What? She should have brought bigger plates,” I defend.
“You love your food, don’t you?”
“I’m not exactly a salad girl.”
“Duly noted. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” The corner of his lips tilts up.
Gosh, I want to taste those lips, just like Chelsea did. I tear my eyes away from his mouth and focus on my food, savoring the burst of flavor on my tongue as I bite into a strawberry.
“Can I ask you something, sir?” I say.
I look up to find his eyes still locked on me, watching me eat.
“Go ahead,” he gestures with his hand.
“When will you contact the transplant board?”
“I already did this morning. Beth has been moved to the top of the list. You should receive an email with confirmation shortly. She’ll receive a new heart as soon as there’s a compatible match.”
Relief floods my body, and I sag back into my chair. The fact that he took care of this before I even stepped foot on his plane or signed the agreement is not lost on me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, emotion thick in my voice.
“You’re welcome.” He dips his head and picks up his phone, returning to his work.
I swallow roughly as the deal with Mark flits through my mind. Guilt begins to creep in and I finish the rest of my plate in silence, contemplating the kind of man Dameon is.
He’s successful, wealthy, attractive, kind, and eats pussy like a champ. How is he still single? I don’t really buy his excuse that he can’t find a woman who likes to be dominated and shares his kinks. Undoubtedly, it makes finding the right person harder, but with more than six million people in Sydney and eight million in New York, it’s hardly impossible. Convenience and privacy surely can’t be the only reasons he visits Eden.
“You’re staring, Hailee,” he remarks without lifting his head from his phone.
Shit .
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” I look away, but his inquisitive gaze bores into my face.
“This is your first and final warning. I’ve asked you two questions in the last fifteen minutes, and both times you’ve responded with ‘nothing.’ I’ll let it go this time, but you’re to answer my questions with full honesty and be open with me at all times. Next time will result in punishment.”
Whoa, there’s no hiding anything from him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. Why don’t you take the master suite to rest while I finish up work?”
That’s not a bad idea. Three amazing orgasms, two glasses of Dom Pérignon, and a full stomach later, I’m wiped, physically and mentally. I rise from my chair, feeling his eyes on my naked form, and make my way to the back of the plane in search of the bedroom.
***
The constant hum of the engines keeps me in a serene state of sleep, the white noise lulling me into slumber. I stretch and roll over, surrendering to being awake. That was the best nap I’ve ever had. Hours of uninterrupted sleep on a mattress as soft as the clouds we’re flying above. I look around the suite and shake my head. Beth would lose her mind over this bedroom. With a flick of the covers, I tumble out and search for my suitcase in the wardrobe, but it’s nowhere to be found. Instead, I find a cute sundress and wedged heels, but no bra or panties. After indulging in a long, luxurious shower stocked with all the high-quality products a girl could ask for, I dress and step out of the master bedroom, in search of the master himself.
I find Dameon reclined on a sofa in the main cabin, drinking a coffee and engrossed in his tablet. I approach from behind and see he’s perusing the world news, headlines flashing across the screen. Running my hand over his shoulder as I pass, I greet him with a bright smile.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, gorgeous. Did you sleep well?” His eyes light up as he takes me in.
“Amazingly. What time is it, anyway?”
“We’re landing in a couple of hours,” he replies, flipping his wrist to check the time. “You pretty much slept the entire flight.”
“Really? I must have needed it.” I stifle a yawn.
“Three orgasms will do that to you. Lift your dress and present yourself. Let’s see if you’ve complied with my dress code.” His lips curve up.
I offer a sultry smile and gracefully kneel on the couch, my back facing him. I lift my dress, letting it drape over the arch of my spine, and part my knees, gripping the back of the couch for support. This position grants him an unobstructed view of my pussy. Glancing over my shoulder, I see his eyes darken as he devours every detail of my exposed core. He doesn’t rush, he simply takes another sip of his coffee and enjoys the view.
“You can sit now,” he finally commands.
I lower myself onto the couch and pull down my dress.
“Have some breakfast.” He gestures to the spread on the coffee table in front of me.
I pile my plate high with food again, this time using a large dinner plate. I can’t help but smirk at the upgrade.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” I begin. “Is it possible for Beth to move in with us? I don’t want to be separated from her.” This question has been weighing heavily on my mind since I read the contract yesterday. I know she’ll have a guardian, a nurse, and all the necessary staff, but I hate the idea of us being apart.
“Don’t worry, Beth will move into the same building as us. We’ll be in the penthouse, and she’ll be on the level below. I own the entire building, so you’ll be able to visit her anytime. She can’t live with us, though, as you’ll be naked and on your knees most of the time.” His beautiful sea-green eyes sparkle.
Alrighty, then. I didn’t think of that, but fuck if that doesn’t make me hot.
Satisfied that Beth will be nearby, I let the matter drop. Besides, I wouldn’t expose her to the kinky fuckery that Dameon and I will be indulging in.
“You both have three days to pack and get organized; movers will be arriving at your home on Monday.”
“Yes, sir,” I mock salute him. He shakes his head, amused by my antics.
He really doesn’t know what he’s signed up for.
The remainder of the flight passes quickly, and before I know it, we’re descending the front stairs onto the tarmac. Waiting for us are two sleek black Range Rovers, their drivers standing at attention, hands clasped behind their backs. Dameon guides me toward one of the cars, and when we reach it, he spins me around, cradles my head in his hands and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“My driver will take you home,” he says. “I’ll see you in three days. Be good.” He winks, giving my ass a playful pat as I step into the car.
“Never.” I grin, blowing him a kiss before the door closes.