Pulling out of her, my cock throbbed and twitched with need. But I had to satisfy another desire altogether.
“Hold on to the desk,” I commanded.
Without question, she moved around me and latched on to the dark wooden desk, her smooth, round ass facing me.
“Like this?” She asked seductively, leaning over even more.
“Do you like to be smacked as much as you enjoy smacking me?” I ran a hand over her ass.
“Why don’t you find out?”
SMACK.
Her hands clenched on the desk, she shivered, and best of all, her lips parted as she cried out in pleasure.
“It seems like I got my answer,” I whispered, moving her hair back over her shoulders.
She swallowed, and I could see her getting more and more excited. “What are you going to do now?”
SMACK.
SMACK.
“Fuck!” She cried out, dropping her head, and I rubbed circles into her red ass.
“We will get to that, but I want to see how much of this you can take.”
SMACK.
Her legs quivered.
SMACK.
She panted, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
SMACK.
“Harder.”
SMACK.
I felt the ache in my hand that time, but she still didn’t tell me to stop. Her ass was so red I was sure she would have begged me to end it. Instead, she bit her lips and her eyes shifted to me, daring.
“Again.”
SMACK.
She cried out, “Please, please fuck me.”
She didn’t have to ask a second time. Kissing both red cheeks, I clung to her waist and slid into her. My eyes rolled back at how wet and tight she was for me.
“You are like a dream.” I thrust deeply into her as I kissed her back.
“You… So…good.” Her voice trembled with me inside her, and it was music to my ears. She was driving me insane.
I can’t take this anymore.
I’d been hard for her the moment she kissed me, it had taken all my strength to hold back.
“Fucking Christ,” I grunted, coming at last.
This was much better than any drink would have been.
May 10th
ringgggzzz
“Umm…” I sighed, rolling over on my bed, trying to close my eyes and turn off my phone as it rang and go back to sleep.
ringgggzzz
“Damn it.” I groaned, reaching for it and answering. “What?”
“Good morning to you too, do you and your guest want breakfast?”
Guest? It was only then did I remember her. I glanced over to the other side of the bed. There she was, lying naked in bed, breathing softly, her hair a mess on her face. She looked so innocent, gentle, and beautiful.
“Breakfast—”
“Later,” I whispered, mesmerized by her. So much in fact I didn’t even hear what he said next. Instead, I hung up and laid back down, staring at her. Reaching over, I brushed the few strands of her hair off her face. When I did, she smiled, leaning into my palm. Her eyes opened and when she saw me, tears fell but she smiled through it. It took my breath away, so I couldn’t speak first, she did.
“Donovan,” she whispered and reached up, brushing my hair too, “you keep breaking my heart, and I keep running back for more… I hate you, but that doesn’t mean you just get to die.”
The tears fell from her face and she bit her lips to hold back a sob. I didn’t understand what her relationship was with my brother, I didn’t understand anything, I just knew she was hurting…like I was hurting, and I reached over and wrapped her in my arms. She sobbed on my chest. Her tears felt like they burned. I kissed the side of her face, the top of her head, I tried to give her the same strength she’d given me last night.
Calmer, she looked up at me, her face red, her eyes puffy, and she kissed my lips, and what could I do but kiss back? This was the only way we knew how to cope to get past the pain. I think in the back of my mind, this wasn’t wise, but I didn’t care, the outside of this bed, outside of her, hurt, and I wasn’t ready to go back to it.
We kissed.
We moaned.
We indulged in each other.
My mind was in a haze, fogged over by lust, by her, and this heaven we were creating with each other. Each moan from either of us seemed to be crying out for the same thing…
Save me.
Please save me from the pain.
2
The Demon Butcher &
The Quarter of a Million Dollar Woman
ONE YEAR LATER
DORIAN
“You filthy son of a bitch!” He yelled, trying to charge me, but security held him back. He struggled so much the seams of his suit were starting to split.
“Mr. Edmund, this is no way to act in front of the board, now is it?” I asked, folding my hands behind my back.
The board of thirty-eight, seated around the conference room table, muttered to themselves, some even looking away from the tall, blond-haired, brown-eyed man before me. We were college friends. Acquaintances actually, I didn’t have friends. But I was sure after today he’d be a nobody.
“Mr. Edmund?” He continued to yell out in rage. “We went to Harvard together, Dorian, and you screw me over like this? My family started this company four generations ago. You know what it means. You were one of the groomsmen at my wedding. How could you do this?”
In my defense, I didn’t want to be a groomsman at his wedding. His mother wouldn’t stop calling my damn office until I swore to go.
“The question is, how could you allow me to do this? You ruined this company and now you want to blame me? Have at least some dignity, since you don’t have intelligence, Hugh.” I didn’t spare him another glance, nodding for security to take him out.
“I will make you pay for this.”
“Get in line with everyone else,” I replied as the double wooden doors closed. I walked to the front of the conference room. Pulling out the head chair, unbuttoning my suit, I took a seat. They all sat up straighter, fixing their clothes and turning on their tablets or grabbing a pen. I allowed my gaze to drift over them for a moment before speaking.
“As many of you know, my name is Dorian Rhys-Gallagher, CEO of Rhys-Gallagher National Holdings. I’m also known as ‘the demon butcher,’ or ‘that motherfucker,’ or ‘that filthy son of a bitch.’ The list goes on. I’m sure the moment I leave, you’ll add something more colorful to it. Let it be known, I don’t give a damn about your policies, traditions, or company mission statement. The only thing I care about is making money. If you open your mouth, and I can’t profit from it, as the new owner of Edmund Enterprises, I will not only fire you, but embarrass you. Are we understood?”
They nodded, not wasting a word.
“Brilliant, let us begin.” My administrative assistant handed me a tablet before placing a file in front of me. Pulling out a pen from my breast pocket, I went over everything once more.
“Edmund Enterprises will be disbanded by the end of the year. The financial sector will join R.G. National, along with the technological group. However, the rest will be cut up and offered to the highest bidder one piece at time. Any questions?” I looked around the room. Their mouths had dropped open.
“You want to do what?” An old man with a thick mustache and dark eyes glared at me as he stood, his hands shaking. I wasn’t sure if that was due to rage or his age.
There was always one.
“I will not repeat myself,” I said, looking at my tablet.
“You want to take a company that has been around since before you were a spark in your father’s eyes and break it apart for money? Have you lost your goddamn mind, boy?”
Spark in my father’s eyes? People still said this?
“Did I not lead off by stating my only goal was to make money? Where did I lose you? Why else would I buy up shares for a hostile takeover? It’s called hostile for a reason. I’m a corpor
ate raider, not a doctor. This company has been on life support for months, and it’s time to cut the cord. You will make out much better on your end as well—”
“It is not only about the money, boy. Almost two hundred thousand people work for Edmund Enterprises. You can’t—”
“I already have,” I snapped. These idiots knew how to get on my last damn nerve. Who were they to interrupt me? “And not only that, but it is my right to. The employees of this company will suffer, yes, but that isn’t my problem, nor my fault. It is yours, Mr. Jacobs. You weren’t complaining when you were in Miami, screwing your former CEO’s fiancée on a private beach, were you?”
I clicked on the tablet, sending the image of how he spent his vacation last spring. His eyes widened as they perused it.
“I’m sure you’re quite pleased that Mr. Edmund is no longer in the room, though I’m sure he will find out about this as well. Nevertheless, Mr. Jacobs, I really don’t care how you spend your wealth, to each their own, but do not use your employees as an excuse for your rage. Each and every one of you is a selfish bastard who decided to remodel your house, or buy a jet or yacht, or whatever the fuck else to stroke your goddamn egos. But your cash cow’s dead now, and I’m here to cut up the pieces before it rots any further. That is what I do. You will get your final paychecks and then however you chose to sustain yourselves is your business. Do remember though, by law, you are not allowed to disclose any information about Edmund Enterprises. I doubt you want to be sued into oblivion. Then you really would have nothing and be no one.” Buttoning my jacket, I stood, no longer wishing to waste my time on them.
I got to the door and stopped, turning back to Mr. Jacobs, who was unable to look away from the picture.
“I did say I was going to embarrass and fire you, didn’t I?”
He glanced up. “What?”
“You. Are. Fired. Meaning, whatever money there is to be made, I will make sure you don’t even get a sprinkle of that since you’re no longer a board member.”
“You can’t do that, I have stock.”
“And it’s useless,” I replied before leaving him.
Walking to the elevators, I felt their eyes on me. The employees were always the ones who got hurt most. But that wasn’t my doing. They were hoping the new guy would somehow come aboard and save the Titanic. That was a fairytale. The Titanic would sink no matter what. Their best chance was to jump ship.
“The car is waiting,” Goldie informed me as we entered the elevator.
Marigold “Goldie” Tate was my administrative assistant. Her red glasses were perched on her nose, with her bright blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She was everything I needed: smart, focused, and, greatest of all, unemotional. She did her job to near perfection and made sure everyone else did the same.
When we stepped outside, I stopped to feel the warm summer breeze. If Donovan were still alive, he would be calling me right now to go for a run in the park. He always said that in New York, sunny and warm days were when miracles happened. It was August, and soon everything would be covered in ice again. I preferred it that way. Nothing to expect but snow.
“Sir?” Goldie called when I hadn’t taken a seat in the car.
I glanced at the skyline once more before getting in, and the driver closed the door. I rested my head against the leather seat.
“This morning’s reports.” She handed them to me.
I took them but didn’t bother looking them over. I had a migraine. Like she knew, she handed me two pills.
“Thank you.” I swallowed them without water, closing my eyes as she turned on “Spring” from The Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi.
I had only just started to relax, my headache slowly disappearing, when we suddenly came to a stop. I looked out and saw that what was once Donovan’s favorite bar was closed down and only the name ‘Shameless’ was still written on the window. I wanted to smile, thinking he was probably the sole reason the bar had stayed open by always buying rounds for everyone. I didn’t though. I didn’t know how to anymore.
“Goldie.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Clear my schedule on Monday.” I watched the bar disappear behind us.
“Yes, Sir. Are you taking the day off?”
“I’m going to see my family,” I replied. She didn’t ask anything more than that when we pulled up to the gray, glass building with my last name on top of it.
Stepping out, I didn’t say a word or spare an employee a single minute as I crossed the lobby to the elevators, Goldie right behind me. When the doors to the right of me opened, two young men stumbled out, pulling at their ties and gripping their briefcases in annoyance.
“Screw Rhys-Gallagher. How can he have his secretary be the one to interview us? I graduated fourth in my class at Yale,” the first one huffed, and his voice sounded like a squealing pig.
“You? I had referral letters from not only two but three of the best financial analysts in the country. Now some Mexican in a bow tie who answers calls for a living is going to tell me I’m not good enough? Please,” the second one hissed, glaring around at the lobby.
“Forget this place. I heard Edmund Enterprises is hiring.”
“Gentlemen,” I called, and they turned, mouths gaping when they recognized me. Any other day, in any other setting, I’m sure this would have been comical. “I wish you good luck at Edmund Enterprises. Though, as of this morning, it became part of R.G. National.”
Goldie, who had been holding the doors open for me, allowed them to close when I stepped in.
“Find out who they are and make sure they can’t find a corporate job on this coast.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Referral letters my ass.
On the top floor, the doors opened to reveal the “Mexican in a bow tie,” my secretary, Rafael Morales, dressed in blue pants, a white shirt, and a green-and-white bow tie that matched his suspenders.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, following me as I walked.
“You mean why those two pricks were even granted an interview?” I said, pushing open the glass doors to my corner office. Everything was in three colors: silver, white, and navy blue. The only thing that didn’t match was the row of autographed baseballs lined up against the window, along with my classical record collection that hung on the wall.
“Who? No, I mean a real problem.”
“I don’t like real problems, Rafael, they’re expensive,” I sighed, taking a seat behind my desk. Goldie brought over water for me.
“Good thing you’re rich.”
I glanced at him. “What is it?”
His brown eyes shifted to Goldie, who stood beside my desk. “You might want to give us a minute.”
She looked at me, and I nodded. Gathering up her work, she walked out, her heels clicking on the ground before closing the door behind her.
I turned to Rafael. “What is it?”
“Mr. Sinclair has moved the interviews up by a few weeks.”
“How far up are we talking?” I asked slowly.
“Five weeks from now.”
Damn it! We still didn’t have the data to present nor would we for another seven weeks at least. “You should have called me hours ago. Get Goldie back in here. We need to go over the plan—”
“I’ve already called the analysis office, and Goldie has been emailed. We can make the new deadline. I told them it wouldn’t be a problem—”
This was the important problem he decided to spring on me? “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fire you.”
“We’re friends?”
“Since when?”
“Now you’re just being hurtful.” He put a file in front of my face. “I know what this means to you. If you get the Sinclair Group, you’ve hit a whole new level, and Rhys-Gallagher National will be what your father dreamed it would be. Roman Sinclair pushed this up to rattle you. Don’t let him.”
Just like that, my headache returned.
“So, you agreed even though I don�
��t have a game plan?”
“Yes, you do. I’ve seen it, and it will work. What you need is Roman’s trust. He’s an old-fashioned bigot, who believes the Sinclair Group is all about ‘family.’ Which is why the real problem is that you don’t have a very ‘family man’ vibe going on. He’ll be having a few dinners and parties until then. The first one is next Monday. You’ll need a date. So, I’ve been looking around and maybe found a way that you could at the very least fake it—”
“Pray on everything you have that you were wise enough not to get me a hooker?” I was going to kill him. I just wasn’t sure how yet. I wondered if I could put him in a box and ship him back to his parents’ house. His father would most definitely kill him.
“No,” he replied. I didn’t relax because he didn’t answer in one-word sentences.
“No?”
“No, I didn’t get you a hooker, I’m looking into an Escort. There’s a service that caters to your every need, finding exactly the right person for the situation. Not only are they discreet, but it’s true—”
I could see it in his eyes but I still couldn’t believe it. “Get the hell out of my office.”
“Well don’t say I didn’t try,” he muttered, placing paperwork in front of me. “Please sign on the dotted line, Sir.”
I snatched the paperwork from him. When people first met him, they always wondered how he and I could work together. The simple answer was I trusted him.
Rafael Morales and I grew up in school together. His father, Superintendent of Police Angelo Morales, had worked his way up the ranks in the police force to get where he was now. He’d managed to achieve that American Dream. He was able to send his kids to the best schools in the country, where they could mingle and associate with kids like me, who’d only grown up with money. He’d had Rafael’s whole life planned out for him. Then Rafael came out to his parents his senior year of high school, much to the dismay of his very religious Spanish family.
Superintendent Morales could sit across from drug sellers, murderers, and the like, but his son being gay? He disowned him faster than a speeding bullet, leaving Rafael to come live with my brother and I before going abroad. He came back, asked me for a job, and I gave him one. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was great at it, but above that, Rafael, having grown up with cops and reporters, naturally new everything that was happening in the city and, most importantly, he was loyal to me.
Never Let Me Go Page 2
