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With one hand rolled into a tight fist in the pocket of my suit, I turn around and give him a wave with my other free hand. There's a fake smile plastered across my face, and I leave the room before Luca can respond. I walk outside, and hail a cab. The sun is so bright that I take a moment to stop and find my sunglasses. The cab pulls up and as I open the car door and slide into the back seat, I think about the transaction that just transpired.
Here I am, a fucking Harvard MBA graduate, and I'm making deals with the Russian mob. What the hell am I doing with my life? And as soon as I ask myself that question, Ashley pops into my mind. Fuck she's beautiful… maybe even perfect. I've seen a lot of smoking hot women in my lifetime, but she tops them all. Fucking her was unbelievable… it's been painful that it's been over a week. I pull out my phone and decide to send her a text. I hesitate for a moment, staring at the chat screen, and thinking about what exactly to say. Fuck it; I'm definitely overthinking this. Why am I acting like such an idiot? I text, "Let's meet up."
Before I can even slip the phone back into my pocket, she responds, "I don't think that's a good idea."
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I text back, "Why not?"
I wait for a few minutes, but she doesn't respond. I give it another couple of minutes, and still nothing. This is driving me crazy. If she doesn't want to reply to my texts, I'll reach her another way—through her direct phone sex line. I'm not one to give up—I always get what I want.
I dial her line and wait. The phone rings, and then I hear her. She picks up.
"Hi, this is Misty. Who am I speaking with?"
The first thing I notice is that her voice sounds different—smooth and sultry, and I swear my cock is already twitching. She's a good actress, that's for sure. But she can't find out it's me on the other end of the line, so I lower my voice and muffle it with the fabric of my suit.
"King Henry."
"Oh, I've never spoken to a king before," she purrs.
"Good, because I'm the only king that matters. You belong to me, don't you?"
"Mm hmm," she whispers.
"Tell me that you belong to me, Kitten," I demand.
"I do. You're my king and I belong to you," she coos, maintaining a smooth, even voice.
"Good, Kitten. Now I want you to tell me what you'd do to my cock if I was with you right now."
"I'd do so many thing. First, I'd—"
I cut her off. "You mean, King Henry. Say my name when you talk to me."
She pauses for a moment, and I hear her breathing deepen. "Yes, King Henry. I'd worship your cock. I'd slowly unbutton your pants and drop them to your feet. I'd wrap my arms around your big, strong body and pull you tight against my own—my breasts and my hard nipples would be pressed under the weight of your manhood. My nipples are hard just thinking about you. My lips would then touch yours, and I would nibble on you with a hunger you've never felt before."
"And what kind of a hunger is that, Kitten?" I ask.
"I'd—"
"Stop, and address me as your king before you continue. If you mess that up again, you'll have to spank yourself."
"Yes, King Henry. I'd bite you in a trail of hunger, starting on your lips, and then moving down until I reach the ridges of your stomach. I'd slide my hands over your thighs and between your legs… moving slowly until I've reached your large, hard cock. Oh, I'm so wet right now just thinking about you."
"Stop touching your pussy. I can see you doing that because I can hear it in your voice. You can't touch your pussy until I command you to. Do you understand that?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what, Kitten?"
"Yes, King Henry."
"That's better. Now spank yourself for not addressing me properly."
"Yes, King Henry," she says, and then I hear a loud slap. I can tell she's naked. It's the sound of skin on skin. She's slapped herself so hard that her ass is definitely red.
"Now show me how you'd worship my cock."
"Yes, King Henry. I'd get down on my knees and wrap my hand around your cock and glide it into my mouth and deep into my throat. I'd take your entire shaft down my throat, until I couldn't anymore."
