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MG resists.
I’m not sure how. I haven’t called her. I’m trying to respect her so-called wishes, but damn. Apart from everything, apart from that burn of need to see her, feel her cunt on my cock, mouth around it, her lips on mine, I still want that fucking necklace. And she’s still the best bet of me getting it.
Hendrick Agnossio, the fuck, might have weirdly given me advice, possibly because being a joyless, boring cunt has downsides, but I don’t think he’s about to hand them over to me.
I need her.
I want her.
The order doesn’t matter.
I did something today I’ve done for one other woman. I bought her the most beautiful, expensive drop diamond earrings. There’s an upscale jewelry store in New York I flew to this morning. They’ll make bespoke jewelry. On the spot if you have enough money and happen to be me.
When I got back this evening, I had them couriered to her place, in the store’s suede black and gold bag, in a black suede finished box, the light gold silk cloth over the top of them on their black velvet display.
What else do you get a fucking jewel thief, but her own jewels made just for her?
You don’t.
And…
She hasn’t fucking called. She got it. The courier reported that. And considering the courier is trusted and on my personal payroll, I believe them.
At eleven, I’m drunk enough, annoyed enough, bored enough to invite two hot socialites over.
They’re gorgeous. One with red hair, the other black, and they’ve got all the right fucking curves.
Carlos leads them into my living room downstairs where I lounge in my robe. Just the robe.
There are two other guards.
One of the girls giggles as she looks at me. “I’m so happy to be here.”
The other takes a step toward me.
I don’t lift my gaze from them. I’m intending to get off in spectacular fashion. Maybe make them kiss while I move from hole to hole. Or…I don’t know. I haven’t thought it through. Make it up as I go, probably.
“Carlos, champagne for them, bourbon for me.”
The one approaching is nearly in touching distance and the other comes up, too. I hold up a hand.
“Stop.”
They do.
“Strip.”
With a breathless giggle, they do as asked and they both have spectacular racks, big, gorgeous tits. Nice cunts. The one with black hair has wider hips, a thigh gap, and a landing strip, and she’s wet. It’s running down her leg, she’s so fucking excited.
The other’s tits are a little smaller, a little higher, dark rose nipples and narrower hips and zero hair. She’s all swollen and reddened and glistening. As they take a glass of champagne and I take the bottle of bourbon, I wonder if Red’s been fingering herself before she rushed over.
I don’t care. They’re cunts.
“Touch each other. Make it good.”
They do, hesitant at first, but they warm up and I swig the bourbon. Carlos is standing by, on his phone. Handling some business or maybe he’s got a chick who really wants his monster cock. I don’t know and I don’t care.
The two guards are trying and failing not to look.
