Candy's Store Book 4 The Back Room Read Online Free

promised. I tilted my head to one side.
    “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Brooker. Would you like to take off your clothes?”
    I nodded to the changing booth, behind a curtain at the end of the room. He traipsed meekly to it, and I waited while he shed his exquisitely tailored casuals, pretending I wasn’t eager to see if the body that lay beneath them lived up to the promise of his face.
    He sported a pattern of tan lines on his upper arms and chest—the suggestion of a v-neck shirt—that spoke of modesty, though he wasn’t unduly pale. A sparse blond fuzz traced the chiseled swells of his chest—the physique of someone whose primary love must be swimming, I thought. Slim hips, neat waist, but broad shoulders and well-muscled legs. I pressed my tongue up behind my teeth, left him standing there in uncertainty while I looked him over. He shielded his flaccid cock—uncut and puckered like a shepherd’s purse—behind his large, square hands in a flash of modesty quite absurd, given the position I would shortly see him in.
    “Turn around,” I said kindly.
    He obliged, a slow twirl, glancing at me over his shoulder as he revealed a toned, pert ass. Yes, a swimmer indeed, his body polished and honed by the water.
    “Very nice.”
    The suggestion of a blush kissed his cheeks, and he smiled. I crooked my index finger at him.
    “Now come over here. I have something for you.”
    He nodded and obeyed, his gait awkward, too self-conscious of his nudity.
    “I hear you like to take cock.”
    I made sure to sound every consonant, the final ‘k’ cracking sharply into the still air. Mr. Brooker nearly stumbled over his own feet. Arriving before me, he stared at the floor and blushed furiously.
    “’s.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Yes. Yes, I do.”
    “I thought as much.”
    I rose to my feet, luxuriating in the movement, the slip of the shimmering dress across my body. I only reached midway up his chest, and I could tell the thought of this tiny woman taking charge of him excited Brooker. Already, his dick had begun to stir. I walked slowly around him, the click of my heels a deliberate metronome beat on the solid black floor. He really was a well put together man. I inhaled, taking in the scent of a woody, oakmoss-based shower gel or shampoo. Summer freckles peppered his upper chest and shoulders. I reached out and—delicately—ran my hand over his ass. Smooth skin yielded to warm, ripe flesh in my palm, and Brooker pulled a gasp across his teeth, shivering against my touch.
    “You like it up there, hm? Hot…throbbing…dick?”
    He nodded.
    Slap!
    “Good,” I said brightly.
    I left him standing there while I went to the table, preparing to select our first toy of the day, and I was sure his eyes burned into the back of my neck. I bent over, checking the lower shelf for things that weren’t there so he could get the opportunity to check out my butt. An eye for an eye, and all that. It’s only fair. I chose a string of firm-but-flexible anal beads and brought a bottle of lube with me, aware of Mr. Brooker’s sudden and intense interest.
    “All right. Kneel down in front of my chair. That’s right.” I nodded with approval when he did what he was told. “Put your arms on the seat. Good. You can rest your head down there too…just where I was sitting. Is it still warm?”
    I reached out, gently pushed the back of his head until his face made contact with the leather. He drew in a shuddering breath and nodded, distracted— probably by the idea of being able to smell my pussy—to the point where he didn’t expect me to bend down behind him and slap the lube on his ass. He tensed, then edged his legs apart a little and waited for me to grease his crack. I obliged, drawing out each motion of my fingers across the most tender part of him, feeling his button flicker under my touch. No doubt how badly he wanted it, how much the anticipation grated on his nerves. He moaned into the padded seat of the chair when I removed my