Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 55445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
When we arrive, I'm absolutely shocked by how imposing the stonework of the building is. I thought every little idiosyncrasy of the buildings in New York were devoid of anything interesting to me. But there is something about this one, despite being surrounded by so much hustle and bustle of an obviously affluent crowd that makes the building seem to be a step above everything else around it. I looked up to the very top floor of the building, where expansive windows stand stark in a tasteful showmanship against the rest of the building's features.
I have a feeling that is a penthouse. That it's Damien's. It just feels like his, right away. He is the king here in his Manhattan castle, I'm sure of it. I feel an involuntary shiver overtake my body for just a second before the driver opens my door. I step out, taking the hand the driver politely offers me. No spark there. Guess I'm a one man kind of ho, and that is fine with me.
When I start to recall the way I felt sitting on Damien’s lap, how hard I'd come last night thinking about him touching me, I'm almost embarrassed even though no one knows what I'm thinking. Still, I can feel my face heat because I’m blushing.
Of course I am, and I feel embarrassed because even if no one else knows, I know that the instant I think about Damien being the king of his big penthouse, I feel a gush of arousal dampen my panties. I don’t care about opulence, though there is certain to be plenty on display.
It's Damien who keeps me in this constant state of arousal. How can he have so much power over my body when he's barely touched me, barely knows me? I don't know him or his intentions at all, and yet here I am, enraptured.
When we step inside the building, we enter the elevator and the driver uses a special badge, and code, to access the floor he selects.
Definitely the penthouse. I suck in a breath, smoothing my hands out over my jeans with some flailing hope that I will look presentable if Damien is home. My mind races with no single, well formed thought. What am I walking into? It is such a strange sensation to know that my whole life has changed, yet I still have no idea how, or even why.
4
Damien
Fuck. I took Sarah. She's mine now. I have her.
So what the fuck do I do with her now that she’s standing in front of me, freshly delivered by my driver to my penthouse?
I know what I'd like to do with her. Bend over her tiny little body and start exploring just how tight her pussy is with one hand, and spank those soft moons of her ass with the other. Feel her tremble around me.
Taking her from her shitty no good parents was one thing. Owning her as some kind of collateral is another.
I know that the Virgin Market is the best way to recoup the money...
But I don't want to think about fucking money right now. In fact, I'm not. I'm thinking about her creamy thighs spread for me. Making her hold them open while her fingers tremble and her pussy is on display for me. Squeezing her tits until she cries out but not stopping until tears stain her face in hot streaks. Making her thighs as red as her face, and then spanking her pussy.
I'm not a complicated man, am I?
I like a sweet, ripe virgin as much as the next depraved motherfucker. I want all these things...
And yet, here come the goddamn complications.
Because I don't want that. I want it bad enough for my cock to hurt just looking at her standing here in front of me, but that frightened look in her eyes makes me want to ship her off on a plane far away. Give her a pile of cash and forget her name. Forget her face.
Forget her wet pussy trembling on my leg.
No, when her body responded to mine, she damned herself. Poor girl. She had no idea what she has in store for her. I'm the cock that stole Christmas. Or, rather, I'll sell her to that one. Though part of me wants to forget sweating an enormous amount of capital and keep her all for myself. But this isn't just about the money. I'm fucking rich, and that doesn't just mean protecting my assets. It means protecting my reputation. I'm not to be fucked with or fucked over.
You try to screw me over in business and if I don’t respond, then people we both deal with will think it’s okay to try it too.
No, a slap to the face like that needs me to respond in only one way.
A fucking mallet to the neck.