Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Our plan is simple. Perseus and Paris made sure every single tabloid will be in attendance, and I am going to lure the fair maiden away from the party. Then with my charm and wit, I will seduce her and get her into a particularly scandalizing position just in time for the doors to open and each tabloid to get the perfect money shot, as it were.
The only question now is what kind of position will I put her in? I can’t just bend her over the desk. That won’t be salacious enough. Getting those perfectly juicy lips around my cock, is on my to-do list, but that is still too tame. The tabloids would make more money selling those pictures back to her than publishing them. It has to be something really dirty.
I considered having them walk in on my going down on her, but honestly, that would probably just make her a hero to unsatisfied women everywhere.
Though it would do wonders for my reputation.
No… It must be something kinky.
Naked and tied in Shibari knots would be fun, but I don’t have that much time. If there was a chance in hell I could get Perseus’s help and tag team her, that would work, but it will never happen. They hate each other too much.
Then it hits me as I’m tying the bow tie on my tux and adjusting my mask. It’s all about perception. Maybe I could convince her to test out a new toy for me. A remote-control vibrator. Then I could use it to turn her on, play with her, make her delirious, and just as she is about to come, I will make a hasty exit just as the photographers come in. It will look like she is masturbating at the first party in her deceased mother’s house. It will show everyone how little Athena cared for the mother who suddenly died and left her almost everything. Who masturbates at a party you are hosting, anyway? It’s devious, and I am so proud of myself for coming up with it.
With the toy in my pocket, a new one that I have been looking for the right time to use, I head downstairs to a party that’s in full swing. I have to admit, the place looks good, and the crowd seems to be having fun. I snag two flutes of champagne from a server so Athena and I can toast her success. I look around, but I don’t see her.
I know she came down. She greeted her guests. She has to be here somewhere. I search the ballroom and the patio, even the kitchen. She is nowhere to be found.
In a last-ditch effort before calling for backup, I look for her in the library. She is there with a book on the desk I plan on spreading her out on for all to see. I send the text to Paris letting them all know where I am, and to give me thirty minutes.
“Hiding from your guests?” I ask, sliding up to her.
“What do you want?” She doesn’t even look up.
“I wanted to congratulate you on a grand party, but you don’t seem to be enjoying the fruits of your labor.”
“Well, your little buddies made throwing it such a pain in the ass that it’s ruined the entire thing for me.”
“Yeah, Heph is a little protective of Perseus, and I think Perseus is just grieving Freya and hurt by her betrayal.”
“That has nothing to do with me,” she argues, looking up from the old book.
“Doesn’t it, though?” I ask. “He thought he knew Freya, and he trusted her, but then he finds out that not only does she have other children he didn’t know about, but that she gave the bulk of her assets to her only daughter. This mansion isn’t just a house to him. It’s his home. The only home he’s ever had and known. Until you live one day homeless on the streets, you can’t understand the importance of that.”
She looks up at me, the cutest little crease between her eyes. “I’m not kicking him out.”
I set the champagne flutes on the desk. “But you’re planning to, baby girl. Don’t try lying to me.”
“I’m not your baby girl,” she says immediately, but there is no fire behind it.
Deciding we need something stronger than champagne, I cross over to the good stuff. I pour us each a glass of bourbon from the crystal decanter on the side table and hand her a glass.
“Look,” she says, taking the glass. “I know this is a lot for him, and all of you, I guess, but that isn’t my fault. I didn’t write the will. I didn’t do this. She did. Maybe he should sort out his mommy issues then start acting like a grown-ass man.”
I can’t help the laugh that comes from my lips. She surprises me at every turn, and I like it. She’s full of fire, and it’s a damn turn-on, but I have to remember that I’m here for a reason, and I am working on a clock.