The Perfect Scandal

Chapter Six

Mallory grinned like a wolf at me, snatching the contract from my hands. Flipping to the last page, her smile grew wider and more crooked. She tossed the contract to the side, stood from her desk, and rounded it, bending down to grab my chin between her thumb and forefinger.

"And you understand what signing that contract means, correct?"

I nodded my head, unable to speak for some odd reason.

"Please, use your words, my dear," Mallory asked, even though she said it more as a demand than a question.

"Yes," I croaked, then added, "Miss."

A smile began to graze across the brunette's lips. Her hand then caressed my cheek, cupping it tenderly while her thumb trailed over the skin of my lips, which immediately felt dry and chapped. My eyes closed slowly. I reveled in the feeling of such affection: I had always been a sucker for it.

Humming in response, my approval was soon turned into a shriek as Mallory's hand clutched a fist-full of my hair and yanked my head back, stretching and straining the cords in my neck. "Good girl," she cooed, leaning her head down and licking a straight path from my jawline to cheekbone.

I could feel the sticky saliva cling to my skin. The air felt cool against the trail, causing me to shiver in, what felt like, disgust and surprising anticipation. There was something strangely animalistic about the gesture that made the apex of my thighs quake.

"Now," Mallory stated, her voice breathy as she released my hair and stood straight, looking flawlessly elegant. "Stand up, my dear, and remove those pesky jeans of yours."

I stared at her for a second, about to decline, but I noticed a set of papers out of the corner of my eye. The contract. I couldn't deny Mallory any longer, or I shouldn't, now that my signature was on those papers.

"Yes, Miss," I murmured through my teeth, standing from the chair.

Popping the button of my jeans, I pulled the zipper down, taking my time as I slid my jeans off of my hips. The tight material scraped against my skin of my thighs unforgivingly until it loosened at my knees and pooled at my ankles. I picked up the denim and was in the midst of balling them up when Mallory simply said "Fold them."

Staring wildly at her, the older woman raised her eyebrow at me, most likely daring me to object to her requests. But as I stayed silent and began folding, I stole a glance at the brunette, a seemingly victorious smile upon her sinful lips.

After taking my sweet time with folding my jeans, I laid them on the seat of the chair I was in prior. Swallowing a ball of spit, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear, stalling the process as I stared at Mallory, my hands still. Her eyes glimmered with excitement and lust when she nodded, urging me to continue with undressing.

I didn't want to continue. Mallory Morgan had no true reason, asides from the contract, to validate her desire for me to strip out of my pants and underwear. That contract couldn't be legally binding, especially since it didn't seem like a true "legal" document, but who was I to know the difference? The most legally binding contract I've signed was the "consent to drug test" forms during high school sports.

How pathetic.

With a quick tug, I pulled the fabric down, bending down from my waist to pick them up, and hiding my intimate parts with my free hand as I stood straight. Chilled air greeted my bare flesh, creating goosebumps up and down the sensitive skin of my thighs.

"Beautiful," Mallory murmured, her breath crashing against my face like ocean waves. She reached down slowly, grabbing both of my wrists and guiding them behind my back, "When I ask for you to discard your clothing, I expect you to keep yourself exposed to me, unless I've stated otherwise. Is this clear?"