Rage

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jazz

H e’s not a good man. He’s not a good man. He’s not a good man.

Did I want to fuck him? Of course. I’m a hot-blooded woman with two working eyes. And… he’d been right about Feldon and every other relationship I’d had.

It’s why I enjoyed one night stands. I liked the selfishness of them. I did not give a fuck if my one-nighters enjoyed themselves. I fucked for me, until I got myself off. I fucked like a man, and got off like a man.

Ports, and an orgasm. That sounded like a good bargain.

“Try it.” He spooned a bit of his dessert onto the tiny spoon and held it out to me.

I wrinkled my nose. “No.”

There was nothing romantic about being fed like I was a child. What next? He’d pretend it was an airplane?

“Try it, Lovely,” he said again, bringing the damn thing forward, until the cream touched my lip.

I frowned, but eventually ate it just to end the spectacle he was making of us.

He looked at me, as if he was contemplating something, his hands coming over his mouth as he ruminated the decision with great care. Then he mumbled, “I’ll take what I can get.”

He turned his head, and in a sharp tone, called, “Aidan!”

With a quick point of his finger, he gave the bartender a nod. Aidan nodded back.

Kieran O’Malley stood, extending a hand to me.

“I’ll need to pay the check,” I said, hoping he’d contradict his off-hand comment of paying for dinner.

I dislike contradictions, and I wanted to dislike O’Malley.

“It’s handled, Lovely. Let’s go upstairs.”

“No.”

“No?” He didn’t seem mad that I might be going back on our recently struck agreement. Just confused. “Second thoughts already?”

I needed to play my hand correctly. How many women had bedded a man for something, only to be cheated in the end? Men were liars. It was a fact of life.

“This is the Grand Kintyre.” I felt my voice lower into a growl. “Your office is here. If you have paperwork to sign, then that is where the trade happens. Quid pro Quo.”

His face smoothed into blankness, then he said, “As you wish.”

I ignored his outstretched hand, and got up on my two feet.

The Grand was where the Irish had made their home. Their negotiations, meetings, and business happened somewhere on the premises.

If this is going to be a transaction… it needs to feel like one.

Beds made things intimate. Being in someone’s living space was intimate - a thing I only did with my family. I wouldn’t do it for some Irish scum who had to blackmail sex from strangers.

“This way.” He led me to the main lobby, down a narrow staircase that headed down. There was a long row of offices, with a conference hall at the end, nestled behind two large double glass doors.

Ominous, creepy and so like the New York City of the speakeasy days.

It wasn’t a basement in the normal sense. The ceiling was high, the walls were dry, the doors were made of an expensive heavy wood, carved meticulously with their names on a placard with descriptors: Eoghan Green - CEO , Kira Green - Manager Gallery Four … so on and so forth until I came upon a Sin Flanagan, and Kieran O’Malley, both simply described as Board Member .

A lack of detail was always a sign of shady business.

He put a key in the lock and pushed it open. The inside of his office looked like a library, complete with a globe, ornately carved hardwood desk, authentic Persian rug and walls of bookshelves.

This was a room made for an older soul than the one I was looking at.

I ran my fingers over the leather bound books, and scoured the titles: The Iliad, Les Miserables, and Black’s Law Dictionary. Was he… a lawyer?

He did not look the type.

He went to his desk, his eyes trained on me the whole time. He took another key and opened a drawer.

He pulled out a stack of papers and placed it on his desk.

As if reciting a grocery list he read the title, “Sale for the ports of…”

At the bottom, where it asked for an authorizing signature, wrote down his name, and filled out the signature block.

“How do I know you’re authorized to do that?” I asked.

He chuckled, “I might not be in the limelight, like Eoghan, but your lawyers have been dealing with me this because I most certainly do have the authority.”

“Why have I barely heard of you until now,” I said.

“That’s by design, Lovely,” he said, with a smirk. “Eoghan can be center stage, while the rest of us are in the shadows, making sure the mechanisms work.”

That’s what I was too. A person behind the curtain, tugging on the pulleys to make sure the show went on.

“Quid pro Quo, Lovely,” O’Malley quoted my proposition back to me. He picked up a pen, the lid firmly on, and pointed it at me. “I’m losing twenty million in this deal, and I intend to get compensated for it.”

His words gave me pause. I had agreed before, but there was something wrong with that. With twenty million dollars. I wouldn’t pay to fuck anyone for one million, let alone twenty. So why would he?

“No pussy is worth twenty million dollars.”

“No pussy is,” he agreed. “But a woman can be priceless.”

I scoffed. I was not a priceless woman.

He extended the pen out to me again, but I did not take it.

What if this was a ruse? What if he blabbed? What if my brothers found out? What would they do to him? What would they do to me?

As if hearing my dissident thoughts, he dropped the pen on the desk and lunged for me. He slammed his mouth on mine.

When I pulled my face to the side to break away, he followed. When I pushed his chest to make space, he leaned in. He countered every move, until my traitorous body was forced to feel it: His tongue, his taste, his heat.

His desire was undeniable.

I threw my head back, gasping for air, “I can’t breathe.”

He assaulted my throat. His tender lips, and sweet bites sent a wave of pleasure down my body.

“You’re trying to not feel a thing,” he said, his hot breath caressing my throat. “That simply won’t do. That’s not what satisfies me… and I intend to be very satisfied tonight.”

What the fuck? Was he one of those… pleasure doms? No. No fucking way. Those guys only existed in lady porn.

He slapped his hands on my ass, before sliding them up my body, lifting my shirt.

“I can tear your trousers off, and let you leave here in my clothes, or…” he groaned, as he pressed his hardened erection, barely contained behind his zipper, against the base of my stomach. “You can take them off yourself.”

He moaned, as he took my mouth again. I slammed my fist into his chest. It didn't make him stop. If anything, it encouraged him.

“I want you marked, and bruised by me. I want you leaving here freshly fucked and wearing my sweats,” he chuckled. “I would have you leave here with my fingerprints on your fucking soul.”

I slapped him. Hard.

The sound of it was as loud as a gunshot.

But he didn’t move, even as my red palm print colored his pale cheek.

“You don’t fucking know me,” I said through clenched teeth. “But I’m not something you brand like cattle.”

Just as before, the more I pushed, the further he leaned in.

“You don’t think I know exactly who you are, Jasmine Barkada?” His chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, making me clench my thighs as I felt the heat rise in my core. “Twenty-eight years old, the head of the Underground Circuit, though you keep that under wraps. Graduate of University of the Philippines Ateneo, and Chief Operations Officer of Barkada Industries.”

He cupped my chin in his thick, rough palm, and planted a kiss on my nose.

“Even our titles match.” His hand gentled as he ran the pad of his thumb down my cheek.

It was clear that he knew my title as much of a front as his was.

“I’ve been watching you since you stepped into our little city, Lovely.” Another kiss to my forehead. “And this has been a long time coming.”

He turned me over, bending me over his desk, pushing me down at the waist. In sharp movements, he’d pulled down my suit pants, until it rested mid-thigh. My thong and bare ass exposed to him.

“If you want to read the contract, now is your chance,” he said with a chuckle, as he ripped my thing off my body with a snap.

I winced at the pain of fabric tearing against my hip before the sharp sting of a slap on my ass made me yelp.

“Quid pro Quo, lovely,” he said again, and I shuddered.

It was the most depraved thing I had ever experienced. And my body loved it.

“Read!” He commanded, just as I heard him unzip himself with one hand, while the other teased at my entrance, spreading my juices along my folds.

Despite my better judgment - judgment that had apparently been left somewhere upstairs in the Grand’s ornate restaurant - I did actually try to read the contract.

Much of it was standard. The price, the sale, the rights…

My eyes blurred when I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance, the smooth round head bobbed, demanding admittance.

“You have until I’m satisfied to sign it, otherwise…” He leaned down, his arm reached around my waist so that his forearm crossed up, his hand reaching to cup a breast under my blouse. “The offer will expire and need to be re-negotiated.”

“That’s not… ah !” I felt his cock spread me wide, pushing me apart from the inside as the sting of his abrupt entrance. “Fuck!”

He was bigger than I thought. My fists clenched, wrinkling the page beneath it as I screamed at the agony and pleasure of being so filled.

“It’s not what, Lovely?” He teased, his hand caressing my exposed cheek, before landing another spank. “That’s for slapping my face, darling. In truth, I don’t mind the sting, but in future, for every strike you land, I will place one on these beautiful things.”

He cupped my ass cheeks, massaging them with his thumbs.

My pussy clenched at the feel of his threat, my fuzzy mind focusing on only one thing. The fact that he was talking about a future. That he already wanted to do this again.

And so did I.

“Read, love,” he whispered, and I obeyed, trying to focus on the words on the pages before me, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t because he was still pushing inside me. I hadn’t felt his hips against my bare ass because there was still more to go.

He leaned down, taking the shell of my ear in his teeth, as he picked up the pen on the desk, uncapped it with his thumb, and put it in my trembling hand.

“Sign it,” he commanded.

I didn’t. I kept on trying to read, even moving my finger along the words, mouthing it to myself… anything to distract me from the stretch of my cunt around his throbbing, thick cock.

I whimpered, when his tip bottomed out inside me. I dropped the pen, the ink staining the paper beneath it. He wasn’t fucking human. I wasn’t going to survive this…

“Quid pro Quo, Lovely,” he whispered against my skin.

“This isn’t how…” I whimpered, as I finally felt the gentle heat of his skin and the rough cold metal of his zipper against my ass. “This isn’t how quid pro quo works!”

“Doesn’t it?” He said with a laugh that told me he knew it. He just didn’t care. “Explain it to me, then. Explain it slowly, and…” He thrust hard inside me, and I screamed with a sudden, intense climax, “thoroughly.”