Jorge

By Abigail Lucie

DESCRIPTION:
A submissive higher-up allows herself to be dominated by a second-shift security guard inside a hospital parking lot.

EXCERPT:
"Bitch!” Here comes the verbal smack down, him leaning against the car door. Arms fold tight less cross cockily with a dark shoe on its tip atop the white stripe under the dim fluorescent light. “When I give you a time to show up, I expect your ass to show up on time.”

Bitch, my pussy tingles violently. It naturally grows moist at the harsh sound of his rich deep bass and scolding arrogance.

Most girls cringe at crass. Girls like that crave the utmost respect from everyone else, because the truth is they lack an ounce to give back to the girl in the mirror. I am not most girls. I am a woman. I have both respect and self-esteem. Simply put, I get off on the vulgar in a rather devilish way. Vulgar is endearing to my vulva. Mine is quite sensitive right now, waiting on this, waiting on him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lot's Cave, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463018835

Abigail Lucie

You would think Abigail Lucie is an outwardly normal person during the day. Surprise! The seething passions that lurk within her are usually kept deeply hidden; exposed only under exceptionally tempting conditions. After dark you’ll find in her books a love of degradation and a desire to be debased and dominated that lies coiled like a serpent, waiting only for a provocation to arouse her.

Book preview

CONTENTS

Jorge

~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note

Incest Exotica

Sexy Erotica

Other Novels

by Abigail Lucie

Jorge is waiting by the time I get up there. I do not need to see his chiseled jaw tense to know that he is already a man pissed. Jorge is impatient by nature and perfectly timed to a fault by sheer mechanics. He gives me a precise time to meet him up there, and I am running terribly late. Two minutes to be exact and counting. Seventeen minutes longer than my dominate bull should have to wait on his warm wet pussy. Damn the elevators for not acting right! Damn those many flights of stairs dashed up to make up for my slight delay. I am sweating and shivering cold by the blast arctic air that engulfs me. Still, I put on a smile for my stud, pretending, to be oblivious to his growing contempt for my tardiness. With every poise step the closer I get to him, envelop in his cheap cologne, the more my feign