“I know you won’t,” he responds. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
This has been the most confusing job interview ever and I get the feeling that even though I think I’m ready for this, I really have no idea what I’m in for. His grip on my hand loosens, allowing me to pull away. I smile shyly and walk for the door. I can feel his gaze burning into me.
“Oh, and Charlotte?”
I turn around, my heart jumping into my throat. He makes me so damn nervous.
“You won’t be requiring any underwear.”
Chapter Three
Jaxon
The moment I walked into the living room and saw her sitting there, I knew she was my girl. She fit exactly what I was looking for, and I hope she proves me right.
There was something so innocent about her, but at the same time I could tell she was stubborn. She had a spark and I couldn’t wait to find out what she was capable of, and what she was capable of putting up with.
The way her bright eyes darted around the room whenever I spoke to her made my cock twitch. I couldn’t wait to wrap my hands around that long, dark hair and force myself down her throat. God, those lips.
Every time she spoke all I could do was imagine them around my cock, her wide eyes on mine, that beautiful body on display just for me—well, not always just for me. She’s an interesting girl. There was something about her that made me wonder how open she was being about her past, but I let it slide. If it proved to be a problem, I could deal with it later. She was so damn intent on hiding behind her mask, pretending I didn’t scare her, when anyone could see how terrified she was. Fear excites me.
I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her how many women had applied for the role. Out of all the possibilities, less than a handful were suited to me, and after interviewing all nine of them, Charlotte was the clear standout. I can’t explain why; I just knew the moment I saw her she was what I needed.
The rest of them were all the same, and I could tell right away there would be no challenge. I laugh. How can there be only one interesting woman left in this fucking city? I guess it doesn’t matter, though, because all it takes is that one—providing I play my cards right.
Most of my time during our short interview was spent trying to figure out why a girl like her would respond to my ad. Her résumé was impressive, with an Ivy League education and great results. The only thing she lacked was experience, but that could be a good thing. A pretty, green young thing with a fiery attitude is just what I need, especially when she’s willing to explore.
My phone rings and I answer it, already knowing it’s my housekeeper, Marina, wanting to know what I feel like for dinner. At the moment, dinner is the furthest thing from my mind because all I can think about is Charlotte and how I can’t wait to slide my hard cock into the tight pussy that I know was hiding under that skirt.
God, the look on her pretty little face when I told her not to wear underwear . . .this is going to be fun.
“Marina,” I say, rubbing my neck. It has been a long day since I went for my run at six this morning, and my rumbling stomach is informing me that I do in fact need to eat. “How can I help you?”
“What shall I prepare you for this evening?” she asks, her faint Irish accent coming through. Slight, with graying hair and kind dark eyes, she was one of the few people I trusted, mainly because she knew what I liked and how I liked it. My needs were very particular, and having someone I felt I could trust was of paramount importance to me.
Marina had been with me for ten years—since I graduated from school. I’ve known her all my life, though. She had been my parents’ housekeeper when I was a child, though the only times I got to see her were the rare occasions when my parents allowed me to come home from boarding school for the holidays. When I moved back to LA it seemed appropriate for me to hire Marina, given that she was the closest thing I had left to a family.
“I’ll leave it up to you tonight, Marina. I’ll eat at six, please. And fetch me a bottle of pinot from the cellar.” I pause, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “Can you also prepare the room, please? I’ll be needing Holly tonight. Have her be ready for me at eight p.m. sharp.”
“Of course, Mr. Murphy.”
I hang up the phone and sit back in my chair, thinking about how Charlotte is going to fit into the family. Some women handle it, others don’t. And I understand that: my lifestyle is not for everyone.
Currently, I have eight women employed by me to take care of my needs. Each girl meets a specific need, and who I desire and when depends greatly on my mood. I can go weeks without using a girl, or I can use the same girl for weeks. It all depends on my mood and what I’m feeling. Tonight I’m in the mood for something rough and dirty. Holly is the perfect girl to fulfill that requirement.
I guess it sounds odd that I run my life in such a controlling manner, but it’s the only way I can function. I have no interest in being in a relationship, or any connection outside of sex. I don’t have the time or inclination to pick up random women at bars. I like things clean and concise, and this arrangement works out well for everyone.
All my girls live on the grounds with me, each being presented with their own wing. They are on call to me twenty-four seven on the days they are scheduled to work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t allow them to have lives. So long as their activities don’t interfere with my needs, they are welcome to do as they please.
At exactly six, I sit down in the dining room as Marina serves me dinner. I approve of her decision to go with pan-fried snapper and seasonal stir-fried greens.
“Thank you,” I murmur. I watch her closely as she piles my plate high. I make her nervous, but then again, I make everyone nervous. It’s not intentional; I just have little desire for small talk, which I guess comes off as abrupt. “You’re dismissed, Marina.”
She nods and then scurries out of the room, her head bowed low.
I eat my food in silence, my thoughts swaying from work to Charlotte and back again. I’m looking forward to her starting with me tomorrow, but I’m also mindful of what a pain-in-the-ass day tomorrow is going to be.
Starting at seven a.m. I have meetings scheduled for the next few hours. I guess that’s the price you pay for being CEO of one of the Internet marketing giants. I work from home as often as my job allows me to, though going into the office is unfortunately unavoidable sometimes—especially when Ryan was on one of his warpaths.
Taking the time to get to know Charlotte over the next few days is going to be difficult, but that’s okay. My usual way of easing the girls into their roles doesn’t take much interaction from me. I like to observe; to get to know them and try and guess what they’re thinking.
I finish my meal and head down to the far wing. This is the only part of the house that is not occupied, but for a good reason. I stride down the hallway to the end room, anticipation building inside of me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Holly, so I’m looking forward to this even more than I usually would be.
I reach for the door handle and turn, pushing the door open. Darkness greets me until I flick the switch, flooding the room with light. Holly sits on the end of the bed, her head cocked to the side, her blond hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. She’s naked apart from the thigh-high stockings, black thong, and heels I requested she wear.
I close the door behind me, not bothering to lock it. Nobody would dare walk in knowing I’m in here. I move quickly over to Holly, lowering my hand so it rests on the side of her face. It’s almost a sweet gesture, which is amusing considering what I have in store for the poor girl.
“Stand up,” I murmur, my fingers still stroking her soft skin.
She does, her eyes leveling on mine, icy blue and showing no fear. I bring her against me, my lips meeting the crest of her neck as my tongue rolls along her skin.
“You haven’t requested me in a while,” she comments.
I see the concern in her eyes and I want to laugh. After the way I treat h
er, she would still do anything for me, just like the rest of them. My jaw tightens as I spin her around. I don’t need her concern, and I certainly don’t need to see the pity in her eyes as I do what I’m about to do to her.
This has nothing to do with the need to hurt or degrade and everything to do with punishing myself. Who knows, maybe she gets that. Maybe she’s more intuitive than I give her credit for. The reality is if I don’t do this then I can’t feel normal, and if I can’t feel normal I can’t function.
I reach above her and grab hold of the chain, wrapping it around her wrists. She breathes out heavily, jumping at my forcefulness. Next, I place the gag in her mouth, and then I fasten the blindfold.
I walk over to where the cameras sit and switch them on. They’re perfectly aimed to catch the entire show while keeping my identity a secret. Last time I checked, over twenty thousand people had logged on to watch.
I walk back around the bed, placing my hands on her hips, my cock hardening at the sight of her. I don’t know why I am the way I am, but there is something so inherently sexy about knowing what I’m about to do will be out there for everyone to see.
She groans as my fingers trail over her ass cheeks, her back arching in anticipation. She wants this. Her eagerness to please me is both a turn-on and a turn-off. What can I say? I’m a complex guy. My fingers close around the thin strap of her thong as I rip it from her pussy. She cries out, and then again as I plunge a finger inside her. Her cries dull into a soft whimper as I tease her. Some nights I’m up for playing, but tonight what I need is to exhaust myself into being able to sleep.
I spread her cheeks and drive myself into her wet pussy. She gasps, the chains restraining her rattling as she pulls against them. My fingers tighten around her slender waist as I push her back onto my cock. Her small, tight pussy struggles to contain me and it feels fucking glorious. My balls slap against her ass as I grab hold of her hair, yanking her head back. She gasps as my mouth presses against hers. I’m still inside her and so close to releasing. I push her head down against the mattress and groan as I come inside her.
I slow right down as my cock throbs and then I slide myself out of her. I walk over to the cameras and switch them off before walking out of the room, where I call Marina to help Holly recover.
The session was fast tonight, but I’m not here to entertain. It arouses me to be watched, but I don’t care about fulfilling the satisfaction of anyone but myself. That includes my girls. I pay them for a service so I can avoid all the intimacy crap that goes with a normal relationship.
Pulling back the covers on my bed, I fall in, exhausted but knowing that sleep most likely will evade me like it does every other night. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in years. Not since that night. The night I was supposed to be staying at Jeremy’s house. The night I lost my entire family.
To this day nobody really knows the truth about where I was that night, or what I did, and maybe that’s why the nightmares hound me, refusing to let me rest. Or maybe that’s just my conscience. I reach over to my nightstand and grab a pill, taking it with a sip of water. I close my eyes and wait for morning or death.
Whichever comes first.
Chapter Four
Charlotte
Not even a pep talk from Jess calms my nerves as I sit in my car outside his mansion, trying to summon up the courage to go inside.
“Just chill, Char. This is going to make your career. Just remember you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay? Be safe, and stay in touch so I don’t have to worry whether he has you buried in his basement.”
I laugh, my shoulders relaxing. I have no idea why, but her comments do make me feel better.
“Okay. I’m going in. Love you, Jess.”
I press the intercom button, my throat constricting when the gates begin to swing open. I follow the stone driveway around the beautifully manicured gardens, parking to the side where I can see a whole lot of other cars are parked.
The walk from the parking area to the front door is short. Too short. I need more time to prepare myself, because I have no idea what I’m doing. Wait, no, that’s incorrect. I know exactly what I’m doing: I’m putting myself in the path of a suspected murderer all for the sake of a fucking story. So help me God, this had better be worth it.
I take a deep breath and knock on the front door. I have no idea what to expect, because all I was told was to be here at nine a.m. sharp and to pack enough to stay on the premises for the next two weeks.
An older woman opens the door, the same one who delivered my tea yesterday, only this time she is full of smiles. Her complete change in mood scares me, but then again, most people nowadays make me skeptical. Regardless, I smile back and take her outstretched hand. In an odd way she kind of reminds me of my grandmother.
“You must be Charlotte. I’m Marina, Mr. Murphy’s head housekeeper. Come in and I’ll show you to your quarters.”
My quarters? What am I, a nineteenth-century maid?
Clutching my small suitcase in my hand, I follow her inside. The place is just how I remember it, but instead of turning right we walk up a flight of stairs and down a long, narrow hallway.
She opens a door on the right, halfway down the hallway, and lets me enter first. I’m taken aback by how big the area is. Even from the small living area, I can already tell it’s bigger than my apartment. The place has been tastefully furnished with what I don’t doubt is thousands of dollars’ worth of antiques.
I move through the room, taking in my surroundings. The bedroom is huge, with a king-sized canopy bed as the centerpiece. A matching reading chair and dressing table finish the look.
“Wow,” I mumble. This by far outdoes anything I was expecting. If this place were a hotel I’d be expecting to pay thousands for the privilege of staying here.
“Mr. Murphy never does anything halfway,” Marina says with a slight raise of the eyebrows. “You’ll meet the others later, but for now, Mr. Murphy would like you to relax. You’re to meet him in his office at twelve sharp.” She turns and heads for the door before pausing and looking back. “A word of warning: Mr. Murphy doesn’t tolerate tardiness.”
From the sounds of things, Mr. Murphy doesn’t tolerate much.
As soon as she leaves, I reach for my phone and set an alarm for 11:45 because the last thing I want to do is make a bad first impression. Unbuttoning my jacket, I discard it on the bed and walk around the room, examining everything. I’m hoping for a clue about who Jaxon is—anything that will help me understand him better. I laugh, because I don’t know why I’m expecting to find anything in a bedroom all the way up the other end of the mansion from his room.
What I need is to find out exactly what is expected of me here. Other than a basic description of what my duties might entail and a roster that puts me on shift today through to Friday and the same next week, I have no idea how this is all going to play out.
I already know I’m not the only girl working for him. He said as much during my interview, and Marina just confirmed that by saying I’d meet the others later. Maybe they’re my in. If I can just get one of them to talk to me I’ll have an idea of what to look for.
Sighing, I collapse onto the bed, the luxurious sheets caressing my skin. I yawn, realizing how tired I am. I spent most of last night researching Jaxon and going over my old college paper that I did on him. When I had finally tried to sleep, all I could picture was him and the mound of circumstantial evidence against him. My mind wouldn’t shut off.
I check my alarm again before finally giving in to the call of sleep. A pang of guilt hits me but I quickly shrug it off. He did tell me to relax.
“You’re late.” Jaxon sits in his chair, deep in thought as he reads through the stack of papers in front of him. He doesn’t look up, or seem that interested in my arrival, other than to point out my tardiness. I glance at the clock on his wall, almost laughing when I see it’s 12:01. Marina wasn’t kidding around.
“I’m sorry. I
. . . it won’t happen again.”
My face heats as he lifts his eyes to mine. They blaze right through me and I find myself wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m getting into something that is way out of my depth.
Jess’s words ring in my head. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. I’m in control, not him. Even as I repeat the words, I have trouble believing them. I can’t imagine finding the words to say no to this guy. I’m not even sure that I’d want to.
“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair facing his desk.
I do, my heart racing as he studies me. Every stare is full of suggestion and mystery, and it scares me that I can’t read him. He leans back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing on me.
“Is your room up to standard?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.
I nod as his gaze burns through me. “It’s much nicer than what I was expecting,” I reply.
He chuckles. “And what exactly were you expecting, Ms. Lucas? Chains and a dungeon? Don’t worry, that will come later.”
My stomach lurches. I can’t tell from his expression whether he’s joking or serious.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
I swallow hard, wondering what he has in mind. Kinky sex in his office? He definitely seems like the rough, dominant type. I have no idea how I’m supposed to ‘challenge’ him, and frankly he doesn’t exactly give off the vibe that he even wants that.
“Do you have what I asked you to bring?”
I nod and push the envelope across the desk to him. I yank my hand back before he notices how much I’m shaking. He opens the envelope and reads through the papers, nodding his head.
Resist (Resist #1) Page 3