by Sophie Stern
My dad.
He knew all about my dad.
I didn’t know how, and he might never tell me, but no one had ever dangled a carrot like that before in front of me, and I wasn’t going to mess it up. There was no chance I’d make the mistake of letting that slip by.
I’d do whatever he wanted if it meant I’d get some answers.
I pushed away from the desk and stood up, and then I started to take a step toward him.
“Stop,” he said. There was something about his tone that made me stop instantly. I looked up at him, then. Finally, I met his gaze. Yeah, the guy looked horny as fuck. My eyes dropped quickly to his cock and back up to his face. Hard. He was hard. He’d gotten hard and there was nothing between us anymore except for a few feet of open space and his boxers.
What was he going to tell me to do?
A delicious yearning stirred deep within me as I waited to see what he’d say. He was going to push me, I knew. There was no real reason that I understood that except for it was so like him. Locke was that type of person. He pushed everyone, not just me, but he’d chosen me as his toy for some reason, and I was going to do what he liked.
“You made me wait,” he said.
“Maybe you like waiting,” I offered helpfully.
“I don’t,” he said. Even though his voice was serious, I detected the hint of a smile in it. Okay, so maybe he thought I was a little bit funny. I could work with that. “On your knees,” he said.
“What?” That got my attention.
“On your knees,” he said. “Be a good girl, Paige. Crawl to me.”
Out of all of the people I’d dated in my life, nobody had called me a good girl and expected me to crawl to them on the floor. Locke and I weren’t dating, but for some reason, the idea of being good for him, of obeying him, was so wildly appealing that I wasn’t surprised to find myself listening to him.
I dropped to the floor in my dress and ballet flats, and I started crawling. My knees didn’t hurt because there was a carpet in the center of the room. It was thick and fluffy and wonderful, and as I made my way across the floor, I was glad that I’d decided to wear panties that morning.
“Kneel,” he said when I reached him. Again, I obeyed. I knelt with my knees pressed together and my bottom resting on my heels. Then I looked up at him.
Yeah, the guy was all cock. I almost couldn’t see his face.
He stepped forward so that his toes were pressed up against my knees, and he looked down at me.
“You’re beautiful, Paige,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Do you see what you’re doing to me?”
“You mean your dick?” I asked. “Why, Mr. Locke,” I said teasingly. “Have you been thinking about kissing me?”
“Oh, Paige,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about a lot more than that.”
He had?
“You have?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. He started rubbing his cock over the boxers, and almost on cue, my panties were soaked. Okay, so the way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach, but the way to my panties was definitely watching this guy rub his dick. I’d never really been into porn where the guy masturbates, but if it was anything like Locke touching himself, I needed to reconsider my viewing preferences.
“What were you thinking?” I asked.
“Paige, I’ve been thinking about spanking that sweet little ass of yours.”
“You liked spanking me,” I say. It’s an accusation.
He enjoyed it.
I know that he did.
Nobody is that good at giving out spankings unless they enjoy every moment of it. Locke didn’t beat me or torture me. He gave me a sort of carefully controlled spanking: a punishment that fit the crime. He didn’t give me anything worse than I deserved. He gave me only what I was owed, and nothing more.
“I did,” he said.
“Why?”
“Why did I enjoy spanking you?”
“Yes.”
My eyes were completely glued to his dick. He was rubbing harder, faster, but still over the boxers. I still hadn’t gotten a peek of what I wanted to.
And oh, did I want to.
“What do you think?” He asked. “You’re a smart girl, Paige. You’re clever. Why did I love padding your sweet little bottom so much?”
I looked up at him and licked my lips. I knew why. I knew. I understood.
But knowing something and saying it out loud was different.
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me and I’ll show you my cock.”
Once again, he was offering me something: something that I suddenly desperately wanted. Locke was a strange sort of man, and it felt as though we kept trading favors with one another. That’s all this was really: an exchange. He wanted to hear me talk dirty to him, and I wanted him to pull his cock out so I could suck on it.
The choice was easy.
A couple of weeks ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of blowing my landlord in the middle of his office on a Saturday morning. I would have thought that it was naughty, or dirty, or somehow bad. Not anymore. The Paige who had a level head was gone. She had been replaced with a vixen, of sorts. She had been replaced by a girl who wanted everything.
“You wanted to see me wiggle,” I told him.
“Is that so? I think you can do better, Paige.”
Again, he was egging me on. He was quietly, gently urging me to give him just a little bit more. That was the thing with Locke, I had realized. He always wanted more. He could always squeeze out just a little bit more. If I thought I could give him something, he’d find a way to make me give him even more than that.
He was wild, and he was rugged, and he was rubbing himself faster.
“You wanted to see me turned on,” I said. “I was naughty, and you punished me. You could have hurt me more than you did, but you had control. You were in total control. You had all of the power, and you liked watching my bottom turn the same color pink as my panties.”
“And?”
“And I bet you liked seeing my panties get wet for you,” I murmured.
“Paige, are you wet right now?”
“Yes.”
Lying wasn’t an option, and I didn’t hesitate to answer. There was no chance that I was going to lie to him. Not about this. Not about us. Not about something so wildly important. I wanted him, yes. I wanted him to come for me.
“Show me.”
I spread my legs and tugged my dress up around my waist. I looked up at him. His eyes had darkened. His boxers were still on, but I had a feeling they’d be coming off soon. My panties were wet. I could feel how wet they were, and I knew exactly why.
Watching him was like a drug. It was like an addiction. I didn’t want to stop. I might believe I could stop at any time, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep going. I wanted him to touch himself until he was about to come, and then I wanted him to push me over his desk and fuck me hard from behind. I wanted to feel his cock sliding into me.
I wanted to come for him while he fucked me hard.
“You’re wearing panties today,” he clicked his tongue. “Naughty girl.”
“You didn’t say not to,” I pointed out.
“I think you know the rules well enough by now,” he told me.
“And I think you made a promise,” I said, looking pointedly at his cock. He was still palming it, rubbing his dick over the boxers.
“Tell me what you want, Miss Key. Be polite.”
Polite.
I could do that.
I could be a nice girl for him. Oh, that hadn’t been an original part of the bargain. The deal had been that I tell him why he spanked me and then he showed me his penis. That was fine, though. He was changing the rules again, and I was too horny to care. Maybe that was what Locke was all about. Maybe that was why he had so much damn power.
He could get you into a position where you just didn’t want to say no.
Where you couldn’t say no.
; He’d get you into a place where you needed him, and where you’d be begging him.
I was in that place.
“Please,” I whispered. “Mr. Locke, show me your cock.”
For just a moment, I thought he was going to refuse me, and I knew in that moment that if he did, I would get up and leave the office. I was so horny that I worried I was going to ruin his carpet with my wetness. I was more turned on than I’d ever been. My pussy was aching with need, with desire.
But he made good on his promise.
He shoved the boxers down, and there it was. His underwear slid to the floor, but I wasn’t paying attention to it. I was looking at his cock, and I was looking at his hand on his cock. He was stroking himself now, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
I thought Nathan Locke looked good while he was in a suit, but somehow, he looked even better naked. He was damn sexy to look at, and I didn’t think I could hold back anymore.
I didn’t ask permission.
I forgot all of my manners.
I didn’t tell him what I wanted to do.
I just crawled over to him and knelt at his feet, and I looked up at him. He watched me, carefully, but he didn’t say anything, either. I leaned out and started licking his balls while he stroked himself. He groaned, and I knew that it felt good. I knew that it was what he wanted.
He tasted good, too: like naughtiness and all things forbidden. I sucked on one ball, and then the other, and then I licked him gently while he stroked himself.
“Paige,” he murmured.
“You like this,” I said. I didn’t stop. I kept going. That was what I wanted: what I needed. My body had stopped thinking, finally, and I just acting on pure instinct. It felt good. It felt like the right thing to do.
“You’re going to make me come if you don’t stop,” he warned me. “You look so fucking sexy licking me.”
It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, and a pang of sadness mixed in with the arousal, just for a moment. Then it was gone, and I was back to feeling like a little minx, and I looked up at him once more.
He had a look of deep concentration on his face, as though it was taking every ounce of self-control not to come apart right then.
“Good,” I whispered. “Then come for me.”
He stroked himself some more, and I licked on him as he did.
“Where do you want me to come?” His words came out clipped, husky. He was so fucking close. I didn’t understand how he was still hanging on the edge, waiting, but he was.
I didn’t have a lot of time to think. Normally, I liked letting my boyfriends come on my breasts. It always turned me on to know they’d come looking at my nipples, and that sort of play was always so damn hot, but this was different. This was Locke. Despite the fact that he’d been known as a sort of playboy, I was beginning to get the impression that Locke wasn’t as well understood as everyone seemed to think that he was.
So I made a decision, a hasty one, and I didn’t know if it was right or wrong. Without answering, I grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. He was confused, just for a moment, until I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and slid his dick down my throat. Then he understood, and he gripped my hair.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and he thrust only a few times into my mouth before I felt him coming inside of me. He moaned as he came, and I swallowed all of it. It took a few swallows, but then, when I was sure he was done, I licked the end of his cock and moved away. I looked up at him and was surprised to see the look on his face.
Contentment, yes, but it was mixed with something else.
Sadness, maybe?
And fear.
Chapter 12
Locke
I shouldn’t have let her blow me.
Long after Paige left for the day, long after I returned home, and long after I should have fallen asleep, I thought about the way she looked on her knees before me.
It was perfect.
She was perfect.
It wasn’t supposed to be perfect.
Paige was the type of girl who deserved a lot more than I could give. I might have money, and I might be mildly attractive, but I wasn’t the kind of man who could give her what she really needed: adoration and love.
Instead, I was the guy who was going to throw her to the wolves in just a couple of weeks, and she had no idea what was coming.
After pacing in my bedroom for hours, I finally decided to give up on the idea of sleep, and I walked slowly down the hall to my office. My cat, Susie, followed close at my heels.
“I’m not going to feed you,” I warned her.
“Meow,” Susie replied.
“I’m not going to feed you,” I repeated, but we both knew that eventually I’d feel bad looking at Susie, and I’d give in to her begging. The vet said she needed to slim down. She was overweight. She ate too much and moved around too little, and part of that was my own fault. Perhaps I should buy a kitten so Susie would have a playmate. I made a mental note to call the animal shelter that week. Maybe I should adopt a kitten. I’d have to hire someone to help out with the cats while I was at work, but maybe that was what Susie needed.
A playmate.
That’s what I needed, after all.
And oh, Paige really was the perfect little toy.
I was getting too attached, I knew. After she went down on me, making me come apart, giving me quite possibly the best orgasm of my damn life, I propped her up on the desk and ate her pussy until she came, too. I wasn’t about to let her get away from me. Not after something as wonderful as what she did. A good thing like that needed to be rewarded, and while I might not be able to love Paige, I could reward her.
I could let her know I was happy with her performance.
That’s what all of this was, after all. It was a performance.
Finally, I made it to my office. My house was too big for one person, I knew. When Rebecca lived with me, it wasn’t as big of a deal. She had brightened up the entire place. Now it was just me and Susie, and somehow, it felt horrible. Rebecca really had been a bright star. What college student wanted to live with their older brother in his creepy mansion? None of them...except she had.
When I had invited her to stay with me, I had completely expected her to turn down the offer, but she’d thought about it for all of two seconds, and then she’d grinned, and she’d nodded.
“Fuck yeah! When can I move in?”
The rest had been history.
I went into my office and sat down at the computer. Reaching for the flash drive I kept in my pocket, I slid it into the USB port and loaded up the information I had. This wasn’t the only copy of this information. I had a second flash drive that was safely at the bank, as it should be. You could never be too careful, especially when you were dealing with wild men.
That was the problem, really.
I was dealing with a wild man.
The folders that popped up on my computer were filled with documents. I had news articles and copies of emails and I had text messages sent from my sister’s phone. I had everything.
But I still didn’t have the answers I was looking for.
Until now.
Paige was the key to everything. She was the missing link I’d been searching for. She was the reason I was going to be able to take down Josiah Reagan once and for all, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he owned a competing company. It didn’t matter that he was trying to take over the real estate businesses that existed in Ruby City. I didn’t give a shit if he made more money than me.
The only thing I cared about was my sister.
The only thing I cared about was the fact that he was the reason she was dead.
Leaning back in my chair, I looked through the news reports. They were so vague, even at the time. Usually, the first news reports that come out are raw. They have blanket data that’s later cultivated and refined. Over time, stories change. Sometimes information is added; sometimes, it’s taken away.
In the case of my sister, the story was buried.
It shouldn’t have been.
Rebecca was the daughter of a real estate tycoon. My father, Adam Locke, might have already been dead when she passed away, but he’d built an incredible company. The two of us, together, had been able to do what no other father-son duo in the city had been able to accomplish.
We’d made something great, and Josiah Reagan had tried to take it all away.
And he’d tried to do it by killing my sister.
Rebecca had always been nosey. I was of the firm belief that every little sister in the world was nosey. It was part of their code of conduct, I thought. She’d made the mistake of extending her nosiness to other places, though.
She’d started writing a paper in college about powerful men in the city, and since the most influential person after our father was Josiah Reagan, she’d set her sights on him.
At first, the paper had been harmless. She’d written a brief biography, talked about his work history, and even had a paragraph or two about Annabelle herself. Then Rebecca had started noticing little discrepancies in the articles she’d read about him. She’d discovered that there had never been any books published about Josiah Reagan, despite the fact that two different authors had started writing them.
Both of those writers had died, committing suicide before finishing their manuscripts.
Rebecca thought that was more than a little bit odd, and she’d started digging. The problem with digging was that most of the time, the dirt you found just crumbled away. Sometimes, though, sometimes your shovel hit something that you couldn’t wish away. Sometimes you discovered something that would change everything.
That had been Rebecca’s downfall.
She’d learned something about Josiah Reagan: something bad. She’d discovered, through all of her nosiness and her type-A personality that was driving her to get the top grade in the class, that Josiah Reagan had not always been the most faithful person. He hadn’t been the most loyal. He certainly hadn’t been the most moral.
Josiah Reagan, in fact, had a dirty little secret, and despite nearly three decades of keeping it quiet, a college senior working on her undergraduate degree had managed to learn all about it, and she’d threatened to expose everything.
