by Linnea May
I wanted her to die in peace.
"No," I say eventually, my gaze darkening. "No, she didn't get better."
He sighs, grasping the meaning of my words. I almost flinch away when his hand reaches over, closing around mine.
"I'm sorry," he says in a low voice, heavy with empathy. "I'm really sorry to hear that, doll."
"It's okay," I say, lying. "It's been a while. I'm doing okay."
Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and he casts me an apprehensive look, as if he was trying to see the lie in my eyes.
"I'm sure you will be," he concludes. "My doll is a warrior."
His words are so intimate and honest, as if we've known each other for years. After all he's done to me, it strikes me with a strange sense of pride that he sees me as a warrior. It's encouraging either way.
"Maybe I am," I whisper, smiling at him.
Chapter 26
Ryan
I'm an idiot. Sure, every time I have a girl in here, I talk to her. Even with the state I'm in, I can't fuck and play twenty-four hours nonstop, and I don't want to. I need breaks as much as they do, and it’s way more fun to fuck a person than a limp fuck toy with no personality.
But why did I have to go there with her? Why did I have to ask her questions about her past, her life? We could talk about the things we did together, about how it felt to be spanked and fucked again after dinner, how she liked that toy in her ass, how she felt about being tied to the bed frame again when I bound the leather cuffs around her wrists. She's still wearing them, just like the collar.
After dinner, I tied her to the St. Andrews Cross, finally giving her tits the attention they deserve by squeezing clamps around them while I played with her sore clit. I forced two mind-shattering orgasms out of her like that, just enjoying the sight of her floating on a high of aggressive bliss. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and when I freed her from the cross, she was too weak to walk by herself.
I carried her over to the bed and then I fucked her, rough and hard. I fucked her with vicious need, taking everything I could from her as she groaned in sensual agony, unsure whether it was pain or pleasure that took the lead.
I know I was rough with her, I always am. But Laura, my doll, really took it out of me. I've never fallen asleep next to one of my girls. Never. I've never woken up next to any of them. This, again, was a first for me.
And it scares the hell out of me.
But, of course, I could only think of making matters worse by having that unnecessarily intimate conversation with her this morning.
As soon as we were done eating, I gave her a few minutes to freshen up. However, when she walked over to the bathroom to take a shower, I couldn't let her go in alone. She squealed with surprise and excitement when I grabbed her wet body and fucked her mercilessly under the shower, pressing her up against the tiles as the hot water streamed over both our bodies.
She's tight, swollen, and sore from all the rough handling. I might have to resort to another option for our last round.
Time is running out, the end of our date approaching with dreadful certainty. My doll is standing in the middle of the room, her hand at her back, standing still but breathing heavily, as I secure her beautiful body in a complicated rope pattern.
"I don't think I'll be able to work for the next few days," she whispers, sounding pleasantly upbeat. "You're destroying me, master."
Her words flatter me just as much as they harden my yearning cock.
"You won't have to," I tell her. "You won't ever have to work that job again, unless you want to."
"Oh, that's right," she says. Her voice is laced with sadness at the reminder.
"I was going to quit anyway," she adds. "Soon."
"To do what instead?" I ask, while fastening another knot along her back, and then bringing the rope back around to the front. I deliberately caress her hard, pointed nipples as I pass the rope through between them, drawing a soft breathless moan from her lips.
"Move," she breathes. "I'm moving away from the city soon."
My chest tightens, leaving an unwelcome bite in my heart. She's leaving town? Soon?
I shouldn't care. It was clear from the beginning that I would only see her once, for one night. Why does it matter if she's living close by when I won't see her anyway?
But somehow, it does.
"Moving, huh?" I say, trying to appear unfazed by her announcement. "To where?"
"Back to California," she replies. "With my friend. We want to start a new life, spend more time in the sun."
California. She's not only leaving the city, she's leaving the state, this coast, and moving all the way across the country.
"New England isn't exactly known for its sunny weather," I comment, finishing my handiwork at her back. I pull at the rope, causing her to jerk back before she catches herself. She sighs as the rope cuts into her flesh.
I remain standing behind her, my gaze traveling along the backside of her body, taking in the sight of her bruised skin and the hemp rope cutting into her flesh. There's so much more I want to do to her - but so little time.
"Why California, though?" I ask. "That's a pretty significant move."
"It's where I went to school," she says. "I liked it there."
"I see."
I place my hands on her shoulders, taking a deep breath as I try to calm the choking pain suffocating my chest.
It doesn't make a difference. I'm not going to see her again, I'm not going to fuck her again, I won't engage with her in any way after this is done. That was never the plan.
But I know that my thoughts have been drifting during the night with her. Ideas crawled into my head. Ideas so dumb and dangerous that I should be happy about not being able to follow through with any of them.
What if I didn't fuck her, but met her once in a while, as one would meet a friend? What if I learned to calm the overwhelming beast inside me and not let those cravings destroy me again without cutting her out of my life?
What stupid thoughts.
I need to remember who I am. I am not fucking boyfriend material. I don't sit around like a dumb idiot, sharing fucking love poems while having an innocent cup of coffee and holding hands. The idea is fucking ridiculous.
I should be glad that she's moving away. This will take matters out of my hand. It'll make it easier to go cold turkey once I'm done with her.
"On your knees," I whisper in her ear from behind, applying a gentle push on her shoulders. We still have a few hours together, and I should concentrate on that instead of dwelling on these stupid fantasies like a fucking sissy.
She follows my command, sitting down on her heels with her chest pushed out and her hands tied at the back. Her green eyes find their way up to mine when I position myself in front of her, my cock throbbing with anticipation as I look down at her.
"Let's make this count, doll."
~ One year later ~
Chapter 27
Ryan
"Mr. Hawkins, are you with us?"
It's not Lemon's voice that interrupts my daydreaming, but he's the one who nudges me in the side to redirect my mind back to reality. I force my eyes back into the room, meeting some of the many eyes that are glued on me. We're sitting around a giant round table, about a dozen men in suits and one woman, the only one wearing anything other than black or gray, sporting a red blazer instead. Her stare is the most intense, her gaze unforgiving and the folded hands in front of her a clear signal of her attempt at portraying dominance. I'm not surprised. She's no one’s daughter, lover, or wife, but just a woman who fought her way up the corporate ladder in a world that doesn’t welcome her. I've been in this environment long enough to understand her struggle more than she might realize. If she made it to this table that means she must really have it in her, and even though she’s only a subordinate, I have more respect for her than the two young CEOs of the company we’re about to acquire.
But right now, I wish I could just tell her and everyone else in the room to fuck
off.
I've been in a bad mood all day, and this fucking meeting is just making it worse. I told Lemon that he shouldn't expect too much out of me today, but of course, that hint went ignored. I shouldn't be surprised. We're about to acquire another company, the biggest acquisition this corporation has ever been involved in. Of course, they need me to be involved in this, to take the lead, to tell them what to fucking do. Men like me can't afford to not be "in the mood" for this shit.
I'm reminded of that harsh truth as I scan the impatient looks being cast at me during this redundant meeting.
"I am," I assure the room. I have no idea whose voice ripped right through my wandering mind before Lemon nudged me in the side. They all look and sound the same to me. "I'm with you, gentlemen – and woman."
That's a lie. I have no idea what they were bickering about before my mind started to drift off. This acquisition is not a friendly one, but as hostile as things can get in this business. These guys know they're lost without us, but they're unwilling to give up easily. It's easy to think that we're doing them a favor by buying out their failing endeavor, but that's only a mistake an oblivious idiot would make. They're sitting on a gold mine, providing us with a lot more than they are aware of.
That's exactly what pisses me off about them. They have no idea what they're doing, and they're failing because of that. We will make their efforts blossom in a way they never could, but we will have to agree to a deal that satisfies both parties first, something that has ended up being a lot more difficult than expected. They're dumb, but stubborn. I'd actually be willing to come closer to their demands, if they were posing them for the right reasons, that is. If they knew how much their organization was actually worth, all of this would look very different.
But they don't. They think they're selling us shit, something that is doomed to fail, and they still have the audacity to make a fucking gamble out of this. They're young and stupid. Impertinent brats.
"Any words on the proposal Michael just voiced?" one of them asks. He's one of the founders, one of those guys who wanted to live the dream of successful Silicon Valley entrepreneurs without acquiring the knowledge he needed to do it. Pathetic. He's not much younger than I am, but it's hard for me to take him seriously nonetheless.
"Why are we doing this?" I ask in an exasperated voice. "We've made our conditions clear, and now you're getting back at me with this because you realized you don't want to let go of your ownership stakes completely?"
Lemon sighs next to me. I know he doesn't like my tone, but I've been toning it down enough for these clowns. They need to know what's what, and no one but me is willing to speak out in the way that's needed to make our point.
"But, Mr. Hawkins, you have to see that we can't agree under these circumstances," the guy insists, his eyes scanning the faces sitting around the table for approval. No one but his buddy is nodding in agreement.
I lazily turn my gaze over to Lemon, who nervously shifts in his seat next to me. He's just as annoyed as I am, but he's the decent one between us, always opting to avoid the truth rather than having to be as impolite as his impossible boss. He subtly lifts his hand, beckoning me to restrain myself. I'm more than happy to leave this conversation up to him because these idiots annoy the hell out of me.
This acquisition should have been done and over with a long time ago, and it's taken a lot more of my time and effort than I ever imagined it would. It was a way for me to put the cherry on top when it comes to this year's business achievements. I've always been a hard worker, but for the past twelve months, work has taken over every single fiber of my being.
I couldn't have lived any other way. I needed work to get away from the soul sucking void she left within me. Having to let Laura go was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life, compared only to a time long ago that I'd like to forget about.
The time I almost destroyed my life. For the same reason.
Women. Women and my obsession with them. Laura has been a threat to my sanity from the get-go. I knew that, and I still pulled her into my life.
Because that's the kind of fucking idiot I am.
I will never forget the way she looked at me. The image is burned into my brain with painful clarity. I led her upstairs, sparing her the blindfold that every other girl had to wear when leaving the basement play room. My hands couldn't let go of her until the very last moment, and I noticed her doing the same. She took a deep breath when I hugged her goodbye – another thing I've never done with anyone else before – and her tiny hands sought mine every chance they got.
We kissed in the driveway, a long, hungering kiss that spoke of the sorrow our parting left with us, and when I met her eyes for the last time, they mirrored my pain.
I've seen that look before. A lot of girls have lost themselves in me after our playtime was done, but this was the first time that the feeling was mutual.
My fingers caressed along the faint bruises on her neck, stark reminders of our time together but nowhere near as pervasive as the ones she displayed on other parts of her body.
"Bye, master," she whispered, her voice so low that it was barely audible. Her words pierced right through my heart nevertheless.
The pain of her loss was unbearable, and it still is.
They say that despair grows greatness, and I guess this is true in a sense. Onyx Corporation is in the process of wrapping up its first acquisition, and it's not a small one. This is the product of months of hard work undertaken by a man who had nothing else in his life to live for. Me. If I didn't have this, I would have gone insane.
It's been almost an entire year, and the pain still feels as fresh as it did the first day after I had to let her go. I haven't heard a word from her since because I stuck to my rule of never contacting her again – and so did she. A part of me is angry at her for not breaking the rule, but a much bigger part is proud of her, proud and impressed. Other girls weren't as strong as her. They were bombarding me with silly texts just hours after I let them go, reducing my already low opinion of them. It just made it easier for me to cut them out of my life for good.
I don’t know what I would have done if she had contacted me. I seriously don’t know.
And that scares the shit out of me.
Chapter 28
Ryan
"What's with you lately, man?"
I look up from my desk to find Lemon marching into my office, closing the door behind him before he approaches my giant desk and sits down opposite me. He's the only person on the planet I'd ever allow to invade my space like this, and he knows it.
Lemon has been my closest associate for years, and he's become a lot more than just my personal assistant and adviser. He's the only man I'd call a friend.
"Nothing is with me," I insist. "These guys just annoy the hell out of me, and you know very well why. I just want this damn deal to be done with."
"Yes, we all do," Lemon agrees, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs. "And I share your sentiment, but I can guarantee you that your attitude won't make things any easier or make this deal develop any faster."
I hate that he's right about that. I'm shooting myself in the foot, again. Lemon is the only guy who has the guts to point this out to me, another reason I respect him, as much as I hate it when he's right.
"I'm sorry," I bring forth. "It’s just not my day today."
I try to evade his inquiring gaze, instead occupying myself with some files in front of me, aimlessly stacking papers and moving random objects around on my desk, trying to signal that this conversation is over for me.
But it isn't over for him.
"Found anyone yet?" he asks casually, as if we're talking about a new employee.
My eyes meet his. Furrowing my eyebrows, I refuse to deign him with an answer.
"That's none of your business."
"It is if it affects our business, Ryan," he says. "And I know it's that time again. It has been a year, hasn't it?"
I give him a silent st
are in response.
"I'm only making sure," he says, lifting his hands in a defensive way. "No reason to get mad at me."
"This doesn't concern you," I tell him. "Stay out of it."
He sighs, his eyes moving toward the window and resting on the view of the skyline beneath us. He folds his hands in his lap and his shoulders slump. I know he's uncomfortable with this. He doesn't understand it, and he'd be freaked out if he knew what exactly it is that I'm taking from these women. He doesn’t know the details, but he’s familiar with the basics. He knows I need my annual retreat, and he knows the reasons for it.
"You're right, it doesn't concern me," he says. "But you can't forbid me not to worry about this, when there's even the slightest chance it could ruin our acquisition."
"This is ridiculous," I snap at him. "Just fucking trust me when I say that it won't. I'm just in a bad mood and these guys, they-"
"It's not about them!" he insists, interrupting me in an unusually loud voice for him. "I know what you're like when you're simply annoyed, Ryan. You may spit curses behind people's back, but you always control your temper when you're with them. You know how to play by the rules - but only when you are yourself."
I let out a huff, casting him an amused look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lemon hesitates, his gaze nervously traveling from the skyline to his lap, to me, to my desk, and back to the skyline, before he finds the courage to meet my eyes for more than a split second.
"I know the last one left you a little... unraveled," he says. "That waitress. I told you this was risky, stepping out of your routine, asking a normal girl to do this instead of buying one-"
"Don't call her that," I hiss, cutting him off.