Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The more I turn on the charm, the more displeased he seems. He barks orders to a few of the security team members before he lifts his amber-colored drink to his lips and drains it. I can’t help but notice his large hand wrapped around the crystal, which leads me to thinking about how that hand would feel spanking my ass. God, this job—this lascivious environment—is fucking with my head.
To prove I’m not affected by him, I force my feet to take the necessary steps toward him.
“Took you long enough.” A small smile plays with his lips. “Is this how long you take to greet all your guests?”
I’m not sure why he’s baiting me since he just stared at me for fifteen minutes, watching my every move. I shake my head. “No, I’m always on top of my tables.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.” Something primitive in me feels like a simple “yes” isn’t sufficient for a man who threatened to spank me. It feels bare, unfinished. So, I complete it. “Yes, sir.”
Approval flashes behind his whiskey-colored gaze, and he rasps out his next words. “You want to be a Greedy Girl, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
Chapter 10
Devereaux
* * *
I’ve asked every woman who has become a Greedy Girl that same question. Do you want to be a Greedy Girl? Never have I asked it at that octave, with spice and sugar lining my throat. Never with a hooded gaze and my cock stirring to life. Swan makes me want to do unbelievably bad things. Things I would never do with anyone else.
Earlier, when she came crashing into the back area and Panti’s drinks spilled down her chest, I wanted to lick her dry. When she sassed me—which I have never had a woman do to me—I wanted to pull her over my knee, raise her skin-tight black dress, and bring my hand down on her soft skin.
She’s a taken woman, though, and I need to keep reminding myself of that. More important—because let’s be honest, I don’t give a flying fuck about her boyfriend—she’s an employee. I never cross the lines with the girls in my club.
I never cross lines, period.
However, hearing her call me sir lights an inferno in my veins. One that’ll only get extinguished by a rough tug of my cock with my fist. Several times. Because once won’t be enough.
“Greedy girls always follow the rules,” I say, rolling the empty scotch glass between my palms.
Her eyes watch my hands before she peers at me with a shy expression. “I follow the rules.”
“Calling boyfriends while working isn’t permitted.” Lies. I’ve never cared who the girls slip out the backdoor to call during their shifts. Truth be told, Swan pissed me off with the mention of her boyfriend.
“I didn’t know that. You should have an employee manual.”
“Silly girl, you should know when I say boyfriends are off-limits at work that includes calling them.”
Her pouty lips roll inward, like she’s attempting to stop herself from sassing me. She fails. “I’m not a silly girl.”
She’s irritated at my word choice, and that makes me enjoy this more. I need her to hate me, because looking into her eyes filled with hatred is better than looking into her eyes swimming with lust.
They make a man crazy.
Her emerald eyes bewitch me like a siren’s song, and if I’m not careful, I’ll end up letting them lure me into dangerous territory.
I take another sip of my drink, hoping it can put out the flames licking my throat. The sensible thing to do in this situation is get my ass up and go to my office. I could call Ledger to keep me company while we look for the killer who’s waged a personal war against me.
But instead of calling him or doing any of the millions of other things on my to-do lists, I’m still sitting here, playing with fire. And I’ll most likely get burned.
“You’re not?” I ask her.
“No, sir, I’m not. That implies I’m vapid and imprudent.” The sir followed by her big words makes my cock ache. “I’m intelligent, and I don’t like the way you’re speaking to me. So I’m going to tend to the customers who don’t make me angry like you do.”
I laugh, strong and hard. I can’t remember the last time I laughed. “I make you angry?” I’d love to say the feeling’s mutual, because I’m always fighting some sort of emotional turmoil I can’t label properly when she’s nearby.
She doesn’t have time to respond because a groan wafts our way. The couple in a banquette booth, doing a lot more than kissing, captures her attention, and across her pale and beautiful face a pink flush races like a fever. It’s mesmerizing.
I lean in. “You like to watch, Swan?”
Her eyes snap to me. “No. I don’t.”
However, I know she does. I’ve seen it firsthand.