Chapter 36 - The Expert

Ideas were tossed around. Lists were made, a whirlwind of desires for their new life on the ranch. A home theater, stables, a gym, a sprawling kitchen with multiple ovens, and most importantly, private, soundproofed bedrooms with doors that locked—Steve suggested a couple of panic rooms, maybe an escape tunnel. For him, his family security was the most important issue.

“It’s a start,” Susan said, her voice a satisfied purr as she leaned back in her chair, her magnificent breasts rising and falling with a contented sigh. The movement made the soft fabric of her top strain beautifully.

Heather grinned, tapping the table. “Leave the architect to me. I know just the person. A member of the clan upstate. She specializes in discrete, custom builds for families with unique bonding requirements.”

This was one less thing to worry, one less secret to keep from a stranger. They thanked Ava again for finding the perfect property, she would make an offer on their behalf, their excitement a tangible force in the room.

Steve and Heather left to meet the computer expert, the meeting set up in a quaint, unassuming café in Raleigh. They arrived first, choosing a secluded spot on a raised platform at the back of the café, where they could observe the room without drawing too much attention. As they settled in and ordered their coffees, Steve couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation.

A little while later, the door chimed, and in walked a woman who immediately caught Steve’s attention. She was around five foot eight, probably in her mid-twenties, with an almost ethereal presence. Her skin was ghost white, contrasting starkly with her dark, bold attire. But what really drew Steve’s gaze—and likely everyone else’s in the café—was her enormous bust, almost as large as Heather’s, spilling provocatively out of a tight bustier that seemed one deep breath away from losing the battle.

Her long, slender legs were clad in fishnet stockings with deliberate holes, held up by a delicate black garter belt that peeked out from under her frilly, nearly see-through skirt. The skirt itself barely grazed the upper reaches of her thighs, leaving little to the imagination. Her makeup was striking—black eyeliner that extended into sharp wings and blood-red lipstick that seemed to dare anyone to kiss her. She was a walking wet dream.

The moment she stepped through the door, it was as if the entire café collectively held its breath. Every head turned in her direction, men and women alike, eyes widening at the sight of her. She was oozing sex appeal, her every movement dripping with a confidence that left no doubt she knew exactly how she affected men. Her hips swayed with a deliberate rhythm, the click of her heels echoing like a drumbeat that commanded attention.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away, his gaze traveling over her bold, dark attire and the way it clung to her curves, accentuating her generous bust and slender legs. His cock twitched in response, betraying his thoughts. So much for being inconspicuous, he thought, though his body didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Heather smirked beside him, her amusement evident as she watched Steve’s reaction.

The woman’s walk was a statement in itself—a slow, deliberate strut that seemed to say she owned the room. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as she approached their table, her red lipstick catching the light like a forbidden promise. The air around her crackled with an electric energy, and Steve could feel the weight of her presence even before she reached them.

Heather leaned in slightly, her voice low. “Looks like our expert’s here,” she said, her tone laced with playful glee. Steve cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but it was futile. The woman’s aura—her unapologetic sensuality—had already taken hold, and he knew this meeting would be anything but ordinary.

Both of them stood as she approached the table, her eyes immediately locking onto Steve’s growing bulge then Heather’s voluptuous figure. “Ah, the infamous Steve Thompson and his equally sexy grandmother.” She purred, her gaze shamelessly lingering on Heather’s chest. Her boldness hung in the air like a challenge, her lips curling into a sly smile as she took in the moment.

Heather, never one to back down from a provocation, stepped forward with an air of confidence that rivaled the woman’s own. Without hesitation, she boldly reached out and gently caressed the top of the woman’s breast, her fingers brushing against the fabric of the bustier. The act was deliberate, almost playful, and it sent a jolt of surprise through Steve, who stood awkwardly beside her.

The woman didn’t flinch. Instead, her smile widened, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. She leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun,” she said, her tone low and teasing, as if she had already played this very scenario in her head.

Steve glanced between the two women, each radiating their own brand of confidence, and couldn’t help but hope he would witness what kind of “fun” they were referring to.

“My name is Chloé Taylor,” the woman purred, her voice smooth and sultry as she extended a hand toward Steve. “And I am SO very glad to finally meet you!” Her lips curled into a knowing smile, as if she had been waiting for this moment for years. Steve shook her hand, his brow furrowing slightly. Her tone gave the perception she knew a lot about them, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

They all sat down, both woman seemed to revel with the sexual tension in the air. Chloé ordered a mochaccino, her fingers brushing against the menu in a way that made even that simple act seem suggestive. When the drink arrived, she took a slow, deliberate sip, her blood-red lips wrapping around the rim of the cup. Steve’s dick jumped in response, and he clenched his jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Every time her lips met the cup, it felt like a spark ignited somewhere deep inside him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to focus. This woman—Chloé—was unbalancing him, and he needed his wits about him for whatever negotiations lay ahead. But with her sitting there, radiating an aura of unapologetic sensuality, it was becoming increasingly difficult to think straight. Heather, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, her eyes flickering between Steve’s discomfort and Chloé’s boldness with a smirk that suggested she knew exactly what was going on.

Steve, having regained a bit of composure, decided to go on the offensive. He leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he spoke in a low, commanding growl. “I’m sure there’s more to you than just a woman begging to be spanked. Tell us about yourself.” His tone left no doubt that if she was indeed offering herself for punishment, he wouldn’t hesitate to oblige.