by K. Webster
Being a prostitute, I have no modesty and drop the robe without hesitation. I’ve worn tattered rags for so long that I’m eager to don something exquisite. Cartier helps me dress and when he guides me over to the mirror, I gasp in shock.
The nude-colored, fitted strapless dress hits me just below the knees and fits like a dream. My dark hair falls in front of my shoulders and the push up bra helps my breasts seem fuller and perkier. I’m another few inches taller in the black shoes and I can’t help but stare at my reflection in awe.
I’m beautiful.
Some sick part of me can’t wait to show Braxton. I want him to see that I’m not some ugly toy. But then I remember his promise. That he’d make Cartier transform me—restore me. It sickens me that he was right.
“The guests will be here soon for dinner,” Cartier says as he gathers up the empty bags. “Mr. Kennedy wants to speak to you about your agreement before they arrive. I’ll take you there.”
He flashes me a flirtatious grin that would make any girl grow weak in the knees and offers me his elbow. I bat my long lashes at him and return a sexy smile to him.
“Damn, girl. If I didn’t like plowing the opposite sex and didn’t have a brooding, sexy-ass boyfriend, I’d take you for a spin,” he teases. “You’re the prettiest toy Mr. Kennedy’s ever bought.”
I nod my thanks as he escorts me to the office next door, silently swallowing down my discomfort at having been reminded I’m only Brax’s toy. He’s about to knock when the door swings open and a tall, black man gapes at me.
Dubois.
Eat your fucking heart out.
“Hello, miss,” he says quietly as he quickly surveys my appearance. His eyes stray over to Cartier’s briefly and with one gaze he thanks him for his hard work before turning his attention back to me. “You look lovely.”
I smile at him and this time it does touch my eyes. “My, you’re quite the gentleman,” I tease with the southern drawl he loves so much.
He scowls and storms away from me.
“You’re trouble, honey. Act right because I don’t want all my work going to waste. He’ll ruin all of this,” Cartier says as he waves at my outfit with a hiss, “in one second. Be nice and behave.”
I roll my eyes at him but nod that I will. Cartier worked all day on making me pretty. I don’t want Brax to have a repeat from last night and strip me out of the gorgeous clothes. Or worse yet, to make me cry and ruin all of my makeup.
“May we come in, sir?”
“Just her. Thank you, Cart,” Brax bellows from inside the office.
Cartier gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek before striding away. I gulp in a lungful of air before stepping into the office. My eyes sweep over the room and I’m instantly in love with it. No surprise there. Every single room aside from the one I have to sleep in is breathtaking. This one is floor to ceiling dark woods. Books line the shelves and his massive desk that sits in front of the wall of windows is adorned with expensive technology. In his suit, behind the gigantic desk, looking gorgeous as ever, his stature screams power and money.
His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him and his brows are pinched together in frustration. I can tell he’s tense and stressed about whatever it is he’s working on. If I actually liked the guy, I’d give him a shoulder rub to ease the tension there.
But I don’t like him.
And I’ll do the bare minimum to get me paid.
He ignores my entry as he continues his work, so I take the free moment to inspect his framed achievements on the wall.
RK Enterprises.
Fortune 500 Company.
News articles about Brax being one of the top forty under forty successful people in the United States. Pictures of him shaking hands with celebrities and other wealthy, well-known businessmen. College degrees and other framed awards line the walls.
Success, success, success.
“What do you do?” I blurt out.
I turn my attention back to him. He’s still glaring at the screen. “I do lots of things, Bunny. What don’t I do?”
“Wise guy,” I grumble. “What is RK Enterprises?”
In a bored tone, as if he’s explaining to a boardroom full of investors, he rattles off what seems rehearsed as he types away on his computer. “RK Enterprises was founded sixteen years ago after I graduated from college with a degree in finance. I’d taken over a successful brick and mortar toy company owned by my father, based in Los Angeles but it was a sinking ship. I analyzed the company’s profits and losses, researched the market, and helped his dying company evolve into a more sustainable corporation. RK Enterprises launched Kennedy Toys, a subsidiary, a few years ago to which parents and educators all over the globe can customize their toys for their children via our user-friendly web-platform.”
“So you’re rich from making toys. You’re like the mean, sexier version of Santa Claus.”
He chuckles at my summation of him, never turning my direction. “RK Enterprises and Kennedy Toys only make up thirteen percent of my earnings. The other eighty-seven percent belongs to Fet Toy Luxe. FTL is a booming web enterprise that joins people with similar sexual tastes. Fet ‘Toys’ can advertise their services and can even add customizable options such as hair color, eye color, demeanor, dress style, voices, etc. ‘Luxers’ search these classified type ads on our site and can order their toys based upon their preferences and the amount they’re willing to—”
I interrupt him. “Isn’t that illegal or something? I mean, I know I’m not one to talk being a prostitute and all, but how are you not in jail for this?”
He sighs as if my question is annoying. “It is illegal except for in the state of Nevada which is where FTL is headquartered. All transactions take place at an FTL owned hotel there. The Luxers fly their toys out there and play with them until they run out of money or vacation time. Everything is completely legitimate and I pay my taxes like a good US citizen. Don’t worry your little heart out.”
Finally, he swivels in his chair, a smug grin decorating his handsome features. But the moment his gaze takes in my new appearance, his features dissolve and become angry.
Well, shit.
I’d been hoping for a pleased reaction, not a murderous one.
My cock thickens the second I take in her new sexy look. The woman is fucking dynamite in a dress that should be banned for being so sinful. I want to do things to her. Lots and lots of naughty fucking things but there’s no time.
I’m irritated that very soon I’ll have to share her for the night with that of the leering eyes of Trevor McMahon, my CEO who’s up from Nevada for the evening. He’s bringing the VP over communications, Glenna Thompson and FTL’s CFO, Jamal Brown. I noticed a recent drop in profits and want some answers from the trio who runs the most profitable segment of my company.
“I see Cart’s worked some big time fucking magic,” I hiss through clenched teeth as I stand.
Her eyes widen at my words and she backs away from me into the wall in an attempt to escape my prowling toward her. She doesn’t have a chance to move away from the wall before I’ve seized her in my clutches. One hand grips her waist while the other tangles into her hair.
I like her so much fucking better as a brunette.
Her makeup has been artfully done—dancing between exotic and tasteful. And I inhale her clean, alluring scent. Knowing Cartier, every part of her body has been smoothed to perfection. The thought of him waxing her wet little pussy almost sends me into a psychotic rage.
He’s gay. He’s gay. He’s fucking gay.
The rage simmers and I drag my lips over hers. She tastes like the grapes Christine put into the chicken salad from lunch. I want to fucking devour my toy.
She slides her palms over my pecs through my dress shirt and I groan. It’s taking everything in me not to push her over my desk and shove her pretty dress up her hips. I want to fuck her hard—mark her with my seed. If I knew Trevor wouldn’t enjoy it, I’d make him watch so he would know she belo
ngs to me.
But the sick fucker would probably whack off later to thoughts of her.
Normally I wouldn’t care.
However, Bunny is different.
She’s mine.
“You smell good,” I murmur against her ear. “I want to taste you.”
Her fingers thread behind my neck and she pulls me to her, her hot breath in my ear. “So take a taste.”
My mouth finds hers and I crush my lips against her plump, painted ones. A small moan escapes her and it reminds me of two nights ago when I got her off with my finger in London. So soft and sweet. I typically wait another week with my toys before I fuck them because I want them to get used to the house and routine. But not with Bunny.
I need her.
And soon.
She kisses me back with surprising shyness for a paid whore. It isn’t like the toys who by this point are trying hard to impress me with their new good looks and expert kissing skills. This one kisses me with the unsureness of a timid lover—a woman that is enjoying making out with a handsome man but not quite sure if she’s doing it right. For a moment, I devour her. I own her with a kiss. Show her with each swirl of my tongue, each plunge of it into her mouth, that she belongs to me. That I’m the expert here.
The doorbell rings and I drag my lips from hers, causing the room to echo with the slurping noise. Her green eyes are hidden beneath her hooded dark lashes and her cheeks turn pink. She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“I’m sorry there’s no time to train you before our guests arrive,” I lie. I’m not sorry. In fact, I enjoy watching my toys squirm as they wonder which fork to use with their salad. As they act inappropriately at dinner and grow embarrassed when my friends and clients glare at them with disgust written all over their faces. They deserve it for being stupid whores like my mother. Bunny deserves it too.
“What do you mean, train me?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I stride toward the door of my office. “On etiquette, Bunny. I know it’s hard to still be trash at the core even though you look like treasure, but eventually you’ll learn. Just not tonight. Tonight you’ll have to suffer through being the laughing stock at dinner.”
The sudden intake of a harsh breath behind me causes me to smile. I take delight in the humiliation. In making my toys feel their shame. Even this different, beautiful, confusing one. She deserves it. They all deserve it.
Dubois has already answered the front door and is taking coats by the time we enter the entryway.
“Good evening, Trevor,” I shake his hand. He’s tall and handsome but he’s a pretty boy. I could crack his skull with my knuckles if I felt like it. A time or two, I’ve most certainly felt like it. If he weren’t so good at running FTL, I’d have already canned his ass.
“Evening, Mr. Kennedy,” he says back with a voice smooth as silk. His curious eyes trail behind me and when he catches sight of my toy, a predatory smile stretches out over his features. “Who do we have here?”
Ignoring Glenna and Jamal, I jerk my head to see him stride over to Bunny. Before I can stop him, he’s already touching her. They’re simply shaking hands but everything about the way he handles her is sexual. He likes my toy. The motherfucker wants my toy.
“Trevor, Glenna, Jamal,” I grit through clenched teeth. “This is Bunny.”
Bunny’s mouth pops open in horror and snaps her gaze to mine. What? Did she really think I would introduce her as Jessica to my employees?
“Bunny,” Trevor purrs. “How cute.”
Dubois must sense my impending brutal outburst, with Trevor being the target because he ushers them toward the dining room. “Christine has prepared a fine meal for everyone tonight. Unfortunately, she burned her hand and had to leave to go to urgent care. Someone from the agency will be serving dinner tonight.”
The trio follows him but Bunny remains, an angry scowl on her face. When they’re out of earshot, she hisses at me. “Bunny? What’s so hard about calling me Jessica? Huh?”
I stalk over to her and grab her jaw in my punishing grip. Her eyes widen but she isn’t afraid. I’m curious as to why I don’t scare her. I scare every one of my toys. I’ll discover a way to haunt her dreams eventually.
“Because under my roof, you’re Bunny. Remember?” I snarl. “Or did you forget because you were too fucked up being a drug addicted whore? Let me remind you.”
She yelps when I release her and grip onto her bare bicep, dragging her toward my office. Once inside, I shove her into the chair in front of my desk and leave her to find the contract. It’s in a locked filing cabinet with my other expired contracts. I snatch hers and come back around to her side of the desk.
“For five hundred thousand, you agreed to live with me. You agreed to answer to whatever the fuck I want to call you. You agreed to wear the shit I provide for you. You agreed to learn whichever skill I think best suits you. You agreed to all of this.”
Her glare is wicked and if I were a lesser man, I’d cower under it. But I’m not. I’m the biggest person around here. Some little girl doesn’t scare me one single bit.
“And what if I decide I don’t want your goddamned money?” she spits out.
I smirk. “Well, you’d not only become homeless, but you’d owe me a twenty-five percent ‘restocking fee’ to recoup my costs of obtaining you.”
“I don’t have a hundred-twenty-five grand!” she shrieks, standing quickly.
I’m momentarily shocked at her ability to compute the number so effortlessly in her head. Our chests are nearly touching as she stares up at me with a vicious look of hate in her eyes.
“Then you’ll do as you’re fucking told, toy. Get over yourself and stop being a spoiled brat. You can play pretend for a few months. This’ll be the best six months of your entire life,” I snap back at her.
She starts to argue but I decide I’ve had enough of her bullshit. Sliding my fingers into her glossy, smoothed hair, I haul her to me and kiss her hard. Her fists pound into my chest at first but as my tongue dances with hers, she relaxes and gives into the kiss. When we’re both fighting for air, I push her away from me.
My eyes fall to her swollen lips and I know exactly how I want to punish that naughty mouth.
“On your knees,” I demand with a bark.
Her eyes narrow but understanding washes over her features. Despite my harsh tone, she seems eager to please. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’d expected more of a fight from her.
I take her place in the chair and lean back. “Suck me off. You’ve been teasing me for over a week now and I’m ready for some payment. Make it good or I’ll make you suffer.”
She drops to her knees and makes her way between my spread legs. My cock aches to be set free and her tiny hands don’t hesitate to make quick work at freeing me. The moment her warm hands encircle my thickness, I groan in pleasure.
“Lucky for you,” she purrs. “I give the best blow-job in the UK and half the time will take a fiver. Imagine how good it’ll be for as much as you’re paying me.”
I raise an amused brow at her cocky attitude. But the moment her plump lips slide over my cock, her quick little tongue tasting the drop of pre-cum on the tip, my eyes roll back in my head.
“Jesus,” I hiss out.
She takes me deep into her throat—the woman has no goddamn gag reflex—and I nearly lose control. This was supposed to be punishment for her, but for some reason I feel like she’s calling the shots here. With a need to regain control, I tangle my fingers in her hair and shove her down until her teeth scrape the base of my cock. She makes a gurgling sound and struggles but I don’t release her. Her hot throat feels so fucking good.
Her hand grips my balls and in a threatening, but not punishing way, she digs her nails into the sensitive flesh there. I release her and she pops off with a loud slurp. She flashes me an evil, hate-filled scowl before she continues to suck my dick. I half expected for her to yell at me to the point I’d have to slap the fuck out of her.
Instead, she continues her task like a good little toy.
I’m soon distracted by the expert way her tongue swirls around on the underside of my shaft and my vision goes dark with the need to come.
I could warn her but I want her to drown in my release. I want it to take her by surprise and it shoot out of her nose. Hell, I’d like it if she choked and then vomited from it.
I’m a sick bastard.
The release comes out with an explosive rush of heat. I jerk my gaze to find her staring up at me while she owns my cock. Her throat bobs as she gulps down every drop I have to offer.
It was the best damn blow-job of my life.
And I’m pissed as hell about it.
“Fuck you, Bunny,” I snap and shove her off my dick.
She lands on her ass and stares up at me in confusion. Ignoring her, I stuff my wet cock back into my pants and fasten them along the way to the door.
“What’d I do wrong?” Her demand is meant to sound angry but I hear the vulnerable, almost wounded, quality to it.
“Get to the dining room and try not to embarrass me.”
I stalk out the door and expect her to take a moment to collect herself. Instead, I hear the angry clacking of her heels on the marble as she stomps after me. Together, we make it into the dining room where everyone is buttering their dinner rolls. I take my place at the head of the table, my back to the view of the lake, and Bunny takes the only open seat beside me.
“Sir, Miss Collins is green from the agency,” Dubois mutters, his tone apologetic. “She’s gone to fetch an appropriate wine to serve with dinner.”
With a nod, I survey my dinner guests. Bunny sits with her back straight and her pert nose in the air. It’s as if she belongs here as my equal instead of my toy. I want to show her that she’s trash. Hired fucking trash.
“Right, sir?”
Dubois’ voice jerks me from my sinister thoughts and I nod even though I have no fucking idea what he just said. He frowns at me. Escaping his gaze, I flit my eyes over to Glenna. The woman once tried to seduce me. I guess she thought she’d marry herself right into my empire. Dumb bitch got written up instead. Ever since, she’s been nothing but professional. I gave her a raise last year but not the kind she’d wanted. I’m pretty sure she’s moved on to the next best thing in her eyes.
