City View Condominiums is a new building that’s still under construction, but their model is beautifully finished and staged with elegant furniture and art. I turn on the lamp in the living room and flip on the gas fireplace.

Satisfied that everything looks perfect, I pull the brochure from my file folder and wait for my clients. It would be amazing to sell one of these condos today. The commission on a half-million dollar property would make my bank account happy.

A light knock on the door signals their arrival.

“You guys made it,” I say, pulling open the door in a way I hope is inviting. “Welcome to City View.”

I’ve been working with Mark and Sarah for about three weeks now. We’ve toured high-end apartments and luxury condos all over the city, but this is by far the nicest place I’ve shown them. It’s a bit over their budget, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to love it. After all, I love it. I’d love to live here.

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” Sarah says as we enter the kitchen and take note of the granite countertops, glass-mosaic-tiled backsplash, and stainless-steel appliances.

“Each owner is able to customize their unit, choosing flooring, counters, and paint colors,” I tell them.

They seem impressed as we wander from room to room. When we enter the master bedroom, they stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows, admiring the city views the building was named for.

My cell phone begins ringing and I fish it from my purse.

It’s Hale. He’s probably calling to arrange our next lesson, and once I find out the date, I can text Kirby back.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” I say, holding up my cell like it’s some urgent business call. I step into the spacious master bath, since this should only take a minute.

“Hello?”

“Peach,” he says, his deep voice rumbling along my skin as if he’s right here in the room with me.

“Hi.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m showing some clients the model at City View Condos. Why?”

“I’m in the mood for lesson number three.”

My belly tightens. “When are you thinking?” I peek out into the master bedroom to see Mark and Sarah have moved over to inspect the walk-in closet with its various shelves, drawers, and compartments.

“Right now. Remember when I told you I was going to push you, test your limits.”

“Yes,” I say, my brow crinkling. I’m unsure what he’s getting at.

“This is a test, my peach. I want you to touch yourself, make yourself come while I listen.”

My mouth falls open. He can’t be serious. “I’m showing a home to clients. They’ll hear me.”

“Not if you’re quiet.”

I pause, glancing up into the mirror. This is crazy. Completely insane. So why is my heart pounding like a drum and my body thrumming with eager anticipation? I pace the small room from one end to the other, trying to form a coherent argument on why this is a bad idea.

“Tell me exactly where you are,” Hale says.

“A bathroom.”

“Is there a mirror?”

“Yes.” I glance up and find my reflection. My flushed skin feels hot, and my nipples harden beneath my form-fitting button-down top.

“Good. I want you to slip your hand into the front of your panties and tell me how good it feels.”

“I can’t,” I say softly.

“Brielle.” His tone is firm, and a pang of regret hits me. I don’t like disappointing this man. “Would it help if you knew I had my cock in my hand, and it’s rock hard and aching? All I can think about is your tight little cunt squeezing me.”

My body clenches at his words. It shouldn’t, but the luxurious opulence of the bathroom is inviting. If Hale were here, he’d lift me onto the marble counter, push my skirt up my thighs, and fuck me hard and fast while I held on to his solid biceps and shoulders. It’s an enticing thought.

“I do miss your cock,” I admit softly.

He makes a small sound of approval, and I’m urged on. This is wicked and naughty and so very wrong, but I don’t care.

I glance out one last time. My clients are admiring the built-in cabinets on the far wall.

“Brielle?” Hale groans, the need evident in his voice.

I want to please him. I want the release that would come with touching myself, but at the last moment, sanity steps in. There’s no way I can do this. But I know refusing him would be a bad idea. I turn on my most sultry voice and whisper, “Oh, that feels good.”

I hope he can’t tell I’m completely faking it. I open the door and peek out at Matt and Sarah, and give them the thumbs-up sign.

“That’s a good girl,” he says softly, clearly pleased with my performance. “I want you to take a picture of your wet pussy with your fingers buried inside, and text it to me.”

“What are the monthly association fees for this building?” Sarah asks, wandering closer.

“What the fuck was that?” Hale asks, obviously pissed off at my little performance.

“Um, I have to go,” I squeak out and hang up the phone.

With my heart slamming erratically against my ribs and my face flushed, I do my best to complete the tour, showing off all the features of the unit, then cover the community features and association costs.

Their interest is obvious, and Sarah squeezes her husband’s hand under the table as if to say, this is the one.