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My plans haven’t changed.
It’s just that fucking gut-deep pull to her…
I rake a hand through my hair.
I just need to be seen with her, I need that to be out there as planned, and I need to lean completely into it.
Fuck all of the other thoughts plaguing my brain. Focus is my key to success.
With that in my head, I come up with an idea.
I cross the room and pick up my phone.
Ivy picks up on the fourth ring. I’ll bet my bank accounts that she made herself wait before picking up. “I don’t?—”
“Wear the green silk dress. The floral one with the yellow panties. Pin your hair up, too. Then wait for my call.”
Before she can respond, I hang up on her.
As if that simple act is enough to extinguish the swirl of desire flaring in my chest.
Later on that night, I sprawl in a chair at O-Ring, watching a Shibari performance between a master and his slave. It’s pretty standard rope work; although, my own style is better.
A girl comes over to me, eyes lowered, with her perfect tits and bare cunt on display. I ignore her until she leaves, rejecting her offering.
I can’t use my phone in here, but I watch a little longerbefore leaving the club. I lean against the brick wall of some fancy, overpriced boutique next door and call Ivy.
“I want to fucking parade you around, to show off my sweet little prize…the one I saved.”
Fuck, if resentment had a voice, it would be screaming right now. And if want could speak, it would sing. That’s all Ivy. Resentfully full of want. She doesn’t need to say a word because I know exactly what’s going on in her mind. And it gets me hot, unlike that rope show, the naked girl, or the thought of fucking someone other than my innocent Pollyanna.
“Where will you take me?” Her timid voice has the head of my cock tingling.
“Sex clubs, Pollyanna. I’m going to show you off as my toy, my plaything.”
There’s a small huff.
But it’s all part of the plan. I need to parade her and let them see her and how she wants and obeys me. I’ll take her to the clubs in New York, all the kink happy clubs. And we’ll save Broken Angel until last. Henderson owns plenty of other clubs and can get an early look at my Pollyanna.
“Just think of the good cause you’ll be supporting.”
“By getting you off?”
“Sir,” I say, mainly because it pisses her off. I really don’t give that much of a fuck, on the whole. Not on a day-to-day basis. In play, I like being referred to that way, but outside of play?
Only with pretty Pollyanna because it gets so sweetly under her skin.
“Sir.”
I smile. “I meant helping me do this job. This man is going to want you desperately in his clubs. And he’ll want you more because you’re mine.”
There are plenty who’d want her because of that, but Henderson and his sick network of fucked-up clubs beyond Broken Angel? The depths of Broken Angel? The places where girls go in on their own and never come out unless they’re zipped into body bags? Oh, he’ll be desperate to get his hands on my sweet thing.
He likes to compete, and I’m the reclusive billionaire with a shiny, new, and pristine plaything.
That’s going to open the doors I need to get at him and the information I want.
“Are you dressed?”
