Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I hear the noise of a door slammed, my eyes still drilling into the screen as a naked Madison slowly scoots to the middle of the mattress. I zoom in on her face, loving the embarrassed bloom to her cheeks.
“I’m in the middle of something,” I say. “I’ll call you back.”
“No, you can’t fucking call me back,” Marcus whispers heatedly. “Did you hear a word I said? What the fuck are you doing with this woman? You need to let Quinn pick her up immediately. And pray she’s happy with the payout and doesn’t decide to take legal action against you. Because we both know she could get an even bigger payday than fifty million if she seeks restitution for mental and physical suffering—”
“She won’t call the cops. She’s a crook,” I quip. I don’t have fucking time for this. Madison’s just spread her legs. Her hand descends shyly down her stomach. “She conned her way across the better part of Ireland, the rest of Europe, I imagine, and I’d be shocked if she hasn’t done the same here in the States. I’m doing the world a favor, really, and locking up a dangerous criminal.”
At least one half of a dangerous criminal enterprise, anyway. Her father might have been the one with a penchant for violence, but she was the hunter who put little stupid fishes like me on the hook for him.
Now I’m furious that my cock is so hard. I yank out my key ring from my pocket and unlock the bottom drawer of my desk. I don’t reach for what’s inside yet.
Marcus starts to say something else, but I hang up on him and ignore when the phone rings again.
Instead, I calmly unbutton my starched white shirt. I’m painted in unholy tattoos. Christ is impaled on his cross on my chest, far bloodier and more lifelike than the normal, sanitized versions worn on all those nuns’ necks back at school when I was growing up. No, in the ink on my chest, blood pours down his face from the thorn crown piercing his forehead. Same with the nails in his hands that stretch around to my back and the slice marks in his wan chest, across the bottom of my ribs.
Everywhere else, more macabre scenes of demons, skulls, and reapers cover me, neck to wrists. During business hours, I’m respectable as fuck. But underneath, I always know what’s there.
I shrug out of my shirt as on the second monitor, I see Madison’s hand slip between her legs. On the first monitor that’s still focused in on her face, I see her confused pleasure as she begins touching herself. It’s a scrunch of her features that looks almost like pain.
I grit my teeth, my own pleasure flashing. My cock leaps again and I reach for what’s in the bottom drawer. My fist closes around the handle of my nastiest whip, coiled like a snake here for only the most special of occasions. Underneath is the collar I bought for Madison long ago. Elegant, with the Callaghan crest at the back and a large diamond at the front. I always knew one day I’d make her mine.
But first, I have to get myself back under complete control. I have to remember who is meant to be the owner of whom. Every time I draw out her pleasure and see the things she can’t deny as truth, it lures the foolish boy I was back to the surface.
It’s time to remind him just what happens to naïve young men who let themselves be tempted by beauty and apparent vulnerability.
My grip on the whip’s handle tightens as I pull it out, letting it uncoil like a viper.
I’m not a masochist.
I like to inflict the pain, not feel it.
Usually.
It’s only on the very rare occasions when the demons get to howling like banshees—
I take three steps back from the monitor and let the cat-o’-nine-tails wail, flipping it in the particular way I’ve learned to do over the years so that it lashes backwards, whipping around and over my own shoulders.
I take it silently when the knotted horsehair ends of the leather tails lash my back. I was far from quiet the first time this instrument of torture hit my flesh. But I was trained to take it and thank my master for the favor of his touch.
On screen, Madison’s forehead scrunches in pleasure and her legs clench together around her hand as she continues rubbing her sweet little clit. I reach down and unbutton my slacks, shoving both them and my boxers down until my straining cock stands straight out like a ship’s mast.
Madison’s back arches in unconscious pleasure, perfectly mounded breasts topped with hard, pebbled little nipples. As she starts to squirm in bed, I land the second lash, on the opposite shoulder.