Chapter Eighteen
Gilly & Byron
“Raise your skirt,” he told her.
“You remember what I told you?” she asked, certain he wouldn’t, knowing he was of the type that would agree to anything if it meant a supply of fresh p***y.
His face was one of mild puzzlement and she was required to nudge his memory:
“This is a one-time thing,” she reminded him. “There will be no further meetings between us.”
Gilly waited, looking down at the powerful black man with the hairless and shiny dome that almost gave him the look of a harem castrato.
Almost, that is.
The rampant c**k that speared straight up at the hotel ceiling and gave the impression it might actually reach it if its owner got any more excited, dispelled the impression instantly and Gilly hoped she could maintain the air of authority with
