Sarah doesn’t really fit in at the Diamond King’s debutante ball. The scene is like something from Cinderella: rich girls in white dresses and dazzling jewelry, smooth-shaven men in black tie, dancing and drinking and debauchery. Unfortunately, Sarah is not Cinderella. She’s the waitress.
What she doesn’t know is that Desmond, the billionaire they call the Diamond King, isn’t looking for Cinderella at all. He’s looking to find the perfect slut. And Sarah is going to give up a lot more than a shoe tonight…
Warning: this 3.200 word story contains dirty talk, wet underwear, spanking, knee-trembling lust and smoking-hot sex. Adults only!
No, the kitchen was not quite empty. The security guard she’d noticed earlier was there, too, leaning against the oven and looking her up and down. His eyes probed her like laser beams. What was his problem, anyway? She hadn’t done anything and …man. His gaze was doing things to her. Excitement sizzled up and down her spine.
Good security guys were supposed to blend in with the wallpaper and the potted plants, right? This guy stood out. She couldn’t even tell what it was that made him so arresting: maybe the cheekbones, or the fierce, hungry look in his dark eyes.
That was what had made her think ‘security’ in the first place: those eyes, scanning the crowd, didn’t look like the eyes of a bored rich man out to enjoy himself.
They were the eyes of a hunter.