Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Ron’s fingers tighten on his tumbler, and I know he’s debating the wisdom of this maneuver. There are other people he can talk to, banks and such. But if he goes to them, the paperwork will be filed in public.
Ron doesn’t want that. He’s already made far too many mistakes to allow any more negative press or doubts about the company’s financials and endeavors.
“Fine,” he relents, and I lift my tumbler. We clink whiskeys and toss them back, closing the deal. After savoring the taste, he swallows and gives me a look. “When?”
“Friday. Send me the account numbers. I expect they’ll be numbered accounts in the Caymans or Switzerland?”
“Correct,” Ron says, standing up. I stand with him and offer my hand. “They said you drive a hard bargain.”
“You’d be just the same if you were in my position,” I reply, half-complimenting him. He wouldn’t because Ron will never be in my position. But I don’t have to twist the blade I’ve put in his ribs today. Not when I don’t have to.
“I probably would. I bet you’re a hell of a poker player, Gabriel. In fact, I heard a little rumor. You host poker nights?” My lips tick up slightly in an attempt to find amusement. Adrenaline spikes, and for a moment, I consider him.
I glance at Ron’s hand, seeing the groove where a wedding ring used to be. I know the details, of course. His wife divorced him last year. Apparently, she had little faith in his ability to recoup his financial losses. Although there are other rumors as well.
I inhale deeply, rocking back on my heels and slipping my hands into my pockets. “Is that what you heard?” I ask him, curious as to who’s been talking. And whether I need to take countermeasures.
My little whore is . . . well, she’s mine. What’s said about her is a reflection of what’s being said about me.
“Something like a game night of sorts,” Ron says easily, but I don’t relax. I need details.
So I smirk and play it off. “Well, I enjoy a game every now and then. Would you like me to keep you in the loop?”
The people I play with, I’ve known for years. I can trust them, or at least I thought I could. I haven’t considered inviting anyone else.
But someone talked, and that’s concerning. I have dirt on all involved, and they’re all a part of the club. We know each other’s tastes.
I don’t know Ron Johnson’s, not for certain, but I know the rumors and how quickly whispers can destroy both reputation and business.
“I would enjoy that,” he tells me, smiling and bidding me farewell.
The tension in my shoulders only tightens until the door closes and he’s out of my sight.
Pausing to regain my composure, I return to what I was doing before. I go to the door to my private closet, where I open up to find Kiersten, her arms bound lightly behind her. She wanted to experience what’s known as shibari, or rope tying, and while she’s not ready for it . . . I did give her a small taste.
Lunch for me was her exquisite pussy on top of my desk, her legs tied apart in such a way that she couldn’t have stopped me even if she wanted to.
“Did you hear that?” I ask her as I slip my hand between her thighs, rubbing her cunt just enough to feel how hot and bothered she is. I left her on edge. She takes a deep breath and nods. “What do you think? Should I have asked for more than his vacation home in Scotland?”
“I don’t know, Sir. I’m unsure about the details,” she says quietly, squirming lightly. Her lips are parted, and I can practically hear her heart racing. My naïve, sweet submissive. She’s smart, wickedly so, but her desire gets the best of her.
Although I’m partly to blame. My poor little whore needed to come before being hidden in a closet with a single light and forced to stay still and quiet.
“I can teach you,” I tell her, and her eyes light up. I know she’s interested in finance and business. She’s experienced in education but not in this world. “You’d like that?”
“Yes Sir,” she whispers. When I reach down to cup her chin, her wide eyes peer back at me and her chin lifts. She wants to be kissed and fucked and pleasured. This is her hour, after all, and I’ve interrupted it.
I smile, petting her hair. “And Ron Johnson? Do you want him to fuck you like the others do?”
She answers honestly, her gaze dropping and then finding mine again. “I don’t know. With the masks, I wouldn’t know he was even there.”
I chuckle before cocking my head. “Tell me something.”
“Anything, Sir,” she says, whimpering as I reach out and cup her and idly stroke her clit. “Oh, fuck, Sir.” As she moans, she falls slightly into my grasp. With her arms still bound, she’s unable to stay upright.