Sean paused. “Are you certain you want to go in?” he asked.
He turned to look at her to see her swallow. Harper nodded. He couldn’t get a read on her.
“Speak up,” he said. “Was that a ‘yes, sir’?”
Harper fluttered her lashes and looked down. “Y—yes. Yes, sir,” she said obediently. Quietly.
Fuck, the things she could do. “You make me so fucking hard,” he said. Her eyes shot open.
Sean took her hand and led her through the heavy wooden door. It closed behind them with a loud click. He removed his bowtie and watched her survey the room. “Get undressed.”
Without a pause, she started to kick off her shoes.
“Leave them on,” he instructed. Sean sat back in a black leather seat. Harper peeled off the dress and let it fall to the floor.
As she stepped out of the fallen latex, in just a lace thong and matching bra, he couldn’t believe her dimensions. She had a tiny waist, a wasp’s waist, as if she’d been in waist-training for years. Her hip bones jutted out like fins before angling down to slender thighs and shapely calves.
“Right now, right here in this room, you exist solely for my pleasure,” he said. “You’re here to please me in whatever way I see fit.” He stopped himself, aware of his quickened breath. Sean raised a brow. “Get on with it.”