Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
And then, just like that, his demeanour changes. Steve – User 1496 – isn’t like he appeared at all. He straightens up, and his smirk is darker, his lacklustre attitude disappearing in a beat.
“Full marks for a great start. They’ll be listening out for us now.”
I grin. “I thought I was going to have to kick your door in if you left it much longer.”
“Hmm, nice idea. Maybe next time. I’d love to hear you trying to make a forced entry.” He looks up at the ceiling with a smile. “Yeah, they’ll have heard you upstairs. My housemates are all probably gathering in the kitchen right now, talking about what a desperate bitch you are.” He points to the wall. “Just through there, in fact. Nothing but a thin bit of plasterboard away. How fucking dirty.”
“You don’t live here, then?”
He laughs. “Hell no. Call it a playroom. I have several house shares dotted around the shithole parts of London. I’m sure they think I’m some kind of drug dealer, but in reality my lifestyle is a little more… regular.”
Regular, sure…
Regular and loaded, most definitely.
I shrug off my coat and drop it to the floor amongst the strewn clothes Steve has tossed there. His bed is a mess, as though he really is a slob, but he’s playacting, just like me. Damn, he’s good at it, so he must have had some practice. I’m going to have to work hard to earn my five-stars this evening.
I remember his instructions and tug my bodice down so my tits burst free. He sits down on an old green armchair and nods, admiring the view.
“You’re as hot as your profile suggests. That’s a nice surprise.”
“Thanks. I’m always out to impress.”
He points a thumb at the drawn curtains. “Go open the curtains, hands on your head, and press your tits against the glass. With any luck, someone will be walking by.”
I step on over, my heart racing, and pull the curtains apart. I put my hands on my head and press my tits against the glass. I can’t deny the thrill as the cold glass sends shivers through me. There doesn’t seem to be anyone about, though. The streetlights are crap out there, so I can barely see the path, but anyone passing will be able to get a damn good view in here. We’re on the ground floor. Anyone could step right up to the glass if they wanted. Steve knows what he’s doing on that score, too. He’s positioned a corner light in just the right location to light me up for the outside world.
“No dog walkers?” Steve asks.
“Sadly not,” I tell him.
“Then get back over here,” he says. “On your knees.”
I do as I’m told, stepping over the strewn clothes to drop down onto the carpet at his feet. I stare up at him like the desperate bitch he wants me to be, and expect him to get his dick straight out, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches behind him and grabs a marker pen from the bedside table.
“Hold your tits up,” he tells me, and I obey his command, crushing them together to show off my cleavage.
“Very nice,” he says, stroking a finger over both nipples. Then he grips the pen lid in his teeth as he scrawls across my tits.
W. H. O. R. E.
The lines are thick, in permanent black ink. It’ll take me a fair amount of scrubbing to get clean later, but that doesn’t matter. I can see the bulge in his jeans when he puts the marker back on the side. Success.
“So, tell me. Are you really a needy bitch, Holly, or are you just pretending?”
I let go of my tits and meet his eyes, my imagination running free as I picture what’s ahead. This man, Steve, is going to fuck me, and use me, and make me scream for the whole fucking house and the world outside. And you know what? All sweetness be damned, because there’s a spark between my legs and I can’t deny it. I shift on my knees, because my pussy is already craving. My headspace is sinking into the filth zone, and I want it. Genuinely. I want to be Holly the cheap whore for User 1496 and fulfil his proposal to the letter.
“I’m not pretending,” I say, looking him in the eye. “I love what I do, not just the money from it.”
He leans forward, his face up close to mine. Steve is no model, but I don’t want him to be. His eyebrows are wispy, and his nose is skinny in contrast to his bulky chin, and that’s great for me. It’s fine. I want this to be about the filthy fucking sex, and nothing more.
“That’s good,” he says. “It’ll be all the more convincing when you come for me.”