I stay with that rhythm, letting her rock her clit against me on each in-stroke until her cries became desperate.
“Do you want to come now, Lexi?” I ask, spanking her breast again. “Do you?”
“Yesssss. God, yes!” she cries.
I grip her shoulders, bracing her as I slam inside her over and over again until my own orgasm crests. “Now, Lexi!” I shout when I reach climax.
She goes wild beneath me, wriggling and coming with a cry and a shudder.
“I think,” I muse, freeing her wrists as she recovers beneath me, “You just need it rough.”
“I think I just need you,” she says.
My heart lurches.
She blushes, as if realizing she’s shown me all her cards.
I want to tell her I need her too, but it’s not my style. I settle for expressing the depth of my emotion for her with the most tender kiss, holding her eyes, so she knows my need.
ChapterEighteen
Lexi
I float through the next day at work.
I love the way Bobby demands my submission then rewards me thoroughly for giving it. For a natural pleaser like me, it’s a win-win. I can’t really lose because he tells me exactly what he wants. There’s no denying the appeal of a man so clearly in charge of me and the world around him. Or maybe it’s as he says–I just need it a little rough.
In the afternoon, a courier delivers a box to Stylz with a dozen pairs of expensive panties from Victoria’s Secret. The note reads,
Sorry about ripping your panties last night. Hope these make up for it. Can’t wait to see you again.
They’re exactly my size and the style I wear.
The day gets even better when I check my phone and find an email came in from Stellar’s human resources. I open it and scan the words, hardly able to process what I’m reading: I got the job.
I got the job.
“Hey, Lex?” Ondrea interrupts my reverie. “You have walk-ins requesting you. Can you fit them in?”
“Them?” I glance toward the waiting area where two beautiful young women stand. Sisters–no, twins.
“Well, just one of them wants a cut. But they came in together.”
“Sure, I can squeeze her in. Let me just finish cleaning up from the last client.”
Ondrea leaves, and I clean up my station, then usher the young women back. One of them plunks down in her seat, and the other sits in the hood dryer seat beside my station to watch.
“Just a trim,” the pretty brunette says.
“Keep the layers? Just the way it is?” The young woman doesn’t appear to need a cut, but I’m not going to argue. Money is money.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, come on back for a shampoo.” I wrap a towel around her neck, clip it in place then lead her back to the sinks to wash and condition her hair.
When we return to my station, she meets my eye in the mirror with an impish look. “You don’t know who we are, do you?”
I frown, looking from one face in the mirror, to the identical one sitting nearby.