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Chapter One
“You know what you need? A spanking, a plugging, a nice young seven-to-eight-inch cock, and nine back-to-back orgasms. In that order.”
“I don’t need a spanking, Mariam. I’m going to be forty-one in a few months. I don’t need a cock, young or otherwise, either. They’re messy. And so are orgasms.”
Adrienne Palmer, standing with her back ramrod straight and holding the stem of a glass of Dom Perignon between her fingers, glared at her business partner and friend, Miriam Haddock. The bright red-haired fifty-eight-year-old, dressed effortlessly in a flowing Yves Saint Laurent gown with her signature chunky jewelry, probably weighing as much as two bars of gold, glared right back at Adrienne.
“You need sex, my dear. Lots of it,” Miriam said with the same tone she would have used were they talking about a new pair of shoes. The woman had zero filter and adhered even less to societal rules. But she’d earned that right years ago.
Adrienne didn’t need sex, though. She was happily celibate for years, and the ironic thing was that she had been married for the last three years of her celibacy and was still celibate when her divorce was finalized just a week ago.
“Let me tell you. I have this pool guy—” Miriam said, her eyes glazing over as she spoke about her new acquisition or conquest. With Miriam, it was one or the other, and she had taught that prowess to Adrienne with a signature dexterity that was entirely Miriam Haddock.
Except for the one time when Adrienne should have adopted Miriam’s adroitness, she fell victim to her emotions, and it still haunted her three years later.
“Is he the same as your car guy?” Adrienne teased to lift her mood, which was slowly sinking into a dark, empty pit.
“No. Rico lets me whip his ass and then curls up, sucking his thumb at my feet. Sweet baby boy. But Jonny, he’s my new pool guy. Every Thursday, he comes to clean my pool—he does an excellent job—and then he cleansmypool. With his mouth. The man has a tongue as long as his anaconda cock, and let me tell you, he knows how to use both. I should lend him to you. It’ll do you good to get a good tongue fucking.”
“Miriam!” Adrienne admonished as she glanced around the banquet hall. The glitter of jewels and gems, from the chandeliers above their heads to the extravagant jewelry worn by the guests, cast silver shadows across the hall.
Cassie Brundt’s charity auctions were always the most ostentatious. Adrienne fully believed Cassie did them for fame and not for the course itself. But twice a year, she hosted the lavish event at a five-star hotel, where patrons bid on potential dates for a night. They were given keys to a hotel suite where a Michelin-starred chef prepared a seven-course dinner for them. What happened afterward was anyone’s guess.
The offers started off at a hundred thousand dollars. All funds raised this time around went toward animal welfare. The last auction’s funds went toward childcare organizations. All good causes, but if Miriam hadn’t dragged her along, Adrienne would have gladly stayed in and written a check like she always did.
Feeling unusually restless, Adrienne’s gaze continued to glide around the grandiosely decorated room. If it weren’t one extravagant charity ball after another, it was something else that required her to dress up.
Not that she didn’t like dressing up. The gown she was wearing, an orange organza floor-length Chanel piece, was designed for simplicity and elegance, but because it didn’t have even a hint of frivolity, she hoped it was enough to keep everyone away from her.
Still, it was going to be her favorite dress, except she would never wear it again. It went with her status as a billionaire, and if someone knew what to look for, they would see old money on her.
Some came from her father or rather the trust fund he had left her, but the majority of her wealth she had made herself through sheer, powerful determination to succeed in a man’s world where she was just “tits and ass.” Her functioning alcoholic mother’s words to her on the last day Adrienne went around to visit her.
Clothes gave her a sense of stability. It concealed who she really was. And it never let her down, either.
“Are you even listening to me?” Miriam asked, her lips dipping into a pout.
“Honestly, I stopped at the part where you started.”
“Cheeky bitch,” Miriam laughed. “Be sarcastic all you want. You still need some dick. It’ll loosen you up a little, you know? What have you got to lose?”
“Time. Beauty sleep. The ability not to be annoyed. My state of peace. Clean sheets. And I hate the horrendous act of cuddling, talking, and being nice afterward.”
“You really are a cold one, aren’t you? Marriage ruined you, sweetie, but you can’t keep punishing yourself for making a rookie mistake.” Miriam touched her cheek and gave her a fierce look. “You need cock. You need many cocks. Okay, see you in a bit. I’m going to hunt down that waiter and see if he wants to be in my harem,” Miriam winked, then took Adrienne’s glass. “And I’ll get you a fresh drink as well,” she added, then sailed away.
Miriam wasn’t completely right about marriage ruining her. She’d always been that way. Cold. Her deceased father and Miriam were the only two people she loved in the whole world. The rest she kept outside her realm. When her own mother betrayed her, trusting anyone else seemed stupid. She was going to die alone. And she was okay with that.
But her father was also the only reason she married Desmond Morton. She didn’t think it was possible to hate another human being as much as she hated Desmond. But the man would be rotting in prison, and she took immense comfort from that.
Brushing aside all thought of the evil man whose mere lecherous glance made her skin crawl, she was immediately set upon by an old friend of hers.
“Adrienne, the picture of loveliness,” Jackson Porter said, kissing both her cheeks.
“Porter, good to see you again. I didn’t think I would after I beat you at poker a month ago.”
“Ah, not only did you take all my money, you took my heart as well. I am a broken man.” The older gentleman held a hand to his heart, his kind eyes twinkling with mischief. At eighty-two, he still sported a full head of hair and a charming charisma that never went out of style.
“And a liar,” Adrienne said, smiling warmly at him. Porter laughed heartily.
