Chapter 10 Henry Jr.
Chapter ten
“Yes, Father, I understand. No, there are no skeletons in my closet that you aren’t fully aware of at this point. Alright. Goodbye.”
Fuck me.
“What did he want this time?” John’s been around long enough to know that it’s always something with my father.
We were in my office after our last meeting of the day, waiting to leave for our dinner reservation, when the phone rang.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve lost my appetite.
The only things on my mind now are getting high and falling asleep.
I light a cigar and sit heavily back into my chair from where I’ve been pacing while on the phone.
“Apparently, the contract negotiations with the Taranovs have called into question some of our exploits. They allege that there’s reason to believe I have a bastard out there somewhere who will eventually pop up to make the future Mrs. Sinclair’s life difficult. ”
“Do you think you do?”
“Fuck no. You know I’m always more careful than you. Which, by the way, you should really take my advice on this one. It’s not worth it, and you take too many chances.”
The nasty fucker rolls his eyes at me. “It doesn’t feel the same, and you know it. I pull out or blow in a different hole…most of the time.”
I hope he outlives me so I don’t have to deal with a parade of his bastards at my office door one day…
A knock pulls me out of the grisly vision of a line of miniature Carters with their hands out, looking for a payday.
Before I can say to come in or fuck off, Satan herself waltzes through the door, and I see red.
Literal red since the harlot has dressed herself like a walking scarlet letter.
Instead of a tight pencil skirt today, it's a loose fit that swirls around her calves like frothing waves.
Siren, my brain tries to warn. Danger. But she’s exactly the kind of danger I want. I’m a man of my word, though. I told her she’d be begging, and I’m not about to renege on my promise.
“Hello, Mr. Carter. Mr. Sinclair, I wanted to inform you that I completed the dossier you requested for your meeting on Monday and filed it with the rest of your things. Also, I’ll be off on Monday and Tuesday of next week.
I’ve already cleared it with Mrs. Smith.
” Her smug smirk tells me she wants me to ask why, and the words escape before I can stop myself.
“Why are you off? Are you ill?”
Turning to leave, she slowly swishes her way to the door. “No, I’m quite alright, thank you. My beau invited me on a last-minute trip to Martha’s Vineyard, and I figured life is too short not to enjoy it. I think we’ll be sailing.”
It could have been her coquettish glance over her shoulder as she said it, batting her eyelashes at me and daring me to care.
Maybe seeing how much easier her skirt would be to pull over her hips because of how loose it is, or how plump her lips look in the fire-engine-red she’s chosen.
She’s taunting me, I know, so it’s possible there is no beau.
Or she could have ten. I don’t know much about Blanche Bedford, and until this moment, I fervently believed it was better that way.
But now she’s fucked up. She’s neat and tidy, and I want nothing more than to recreate the disheveled, destroyed woman from the night she spent in my bed. She’s wasted too much time, and if she isn’t going to come to me freely and beg, well, I’ll have to make her.
“If that’s all, gentlemen, I’ll see you next week for the—”
I’m across the room and on her before she finishes her sentence, pulling her back into my office and slamming the door behind her.
My hand around her throat does nothing to wipe the smirk off her face, but I don’t care at this point.
She can believe that she’s won because it doesn’t matter at all.
I’m getting what I want, and fucking her to get her out of my system.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I murmur, offering her the last bit of kindness she’ll get from me tonight. “You’re not going sailing, you’re not taking off next week, and you’re damn sure not seeing any beaus. Not until I’ve had my fill of you. Do you understand?”
“Hmm. You haven’t exactly been a man of your word up to this point, Mr. Sinclair. I’m not so sure that you aren’t all bark and no bite.”
“You little bit—”
“You’ve strutted around here, whispered about your liaisons in my ear, and jerked off in front of me like a middle school boy who’s seen a pair of tits for the first time. I’m not sure you’ve got anything special to—”
Crack.
My palm stings from the impact on her cheek, and I’m as shocked as anyone. I’ve never hit a woman before. Not without discussion beforehand, at least…John is as surprised as I am, and I see him rise in my periphery.
“Henry, let’s not—”
Blanche shocks me by interrupting him. “Sit down, Mr. Carter.” Slowly, she turns back to face me, eyes shining with anger and…
lust? “Is that all you’ve got, Mr. Sinclair?
You showed so much promise during our night together, but if you’re still waiting for me to bend over backward for you, I have to say, you’ll be waiting a long time. ”
Her cheek blooms red to match her lipstick and her outfit, and I feel inevitability flood my soul. She and I are going to go down in blood and flames together. In this lifetime and the next. For now, there’s only one answer for her insolence.
“Alright, slut. If that’s the way you want it.
” A quick tug frees her hair from its clip, and I revel in the wince on my little whore’s face.
She’s strong, though, and stays quiet. Not for long.
Dragging her by the hair across the room to my desk, she finally lets out the scream I’ve been dying for.
“You asshole! Let me go, or I’ll…”
“Stop lying to me and to yourself.” I bend her roughly over my desk, ass facing Carter, who’s already gripping his cock tightly through his trousers.
“I’ll tell you what, Blanche. Let’s make a deal.
If I lift this skirt and push your panties to the side, and you’re wet…
I’m fucking you, and you’re going to take it rough like the whore I know you are.
However, if you’re not wet…I’m still fucking you, but I’ll drug you so you’ll enjoy it and won’t remember a thing. ”
She’s shaking on my desk as Carter strokes his cock, now free from his boxers. Deciding not to waste any more time, I kick her feet wide and flip up the skirt that set me on edge in the first place. I’m unable to hold back a groan as I see that she’s completely bare underneath. And glistening.
This damn woman walked into my office looking to be fucked, and that’s what she’s going to get. I have nothing left to say, after trying my best to seduce her, torture her...only for her to come in here and set me aflame? No.
Pulling her knees onto my desk and spreading them wide, I drive into her in one long, punishing thrust. Her wheeze turns into a whine once my pelvis is flush against hers, and she’s even tighter than I remember.
Slowly, I pull out, savoring the way she’s stretched taut around me, greedy inner lips trying to keep me inside.
Her thighs shake from the split I forced her into, and I realize I’m going to need more leverage for what I want.
I’m surprised she’s stayed relatively quiet thus far, but based on how wet she was when she walked into my office, she must have been so desperate to be fucked that she doesn’t care how it’s happening.
“Carter, could you give me a hand? I think my bitch needs a leash.”
Smirking, he slowly makes his way to where I’m thrusting languidly and pulls my belt free from my trousers on the floor, giving my balls a squeeze on the way back up.
I hiss as he laughs, heading back to his chair while I loop my belt around Blanche’s neck.
She uses her last few seconds of air unwisely as I use my new grip to plunge into her harder, the recoil of her magnificent ass hypnotizing.
“You motherfucker! Put a damn condom on—”
She’s cut off as I tug on her leash harder, reaching underneath with my other hand to torture a pebbled nipple. Fuck, she’s thick in all the right places. I’m glad I didn’t stop for a condom. This bitch is meant to be bred…
“No condom, slut. Pussy this good is best enjoyed raw. Besides, you’re mine now, Ms. Bedford.
I might not be able to marry you, but the more I think about it, the better keeping a little side piece in the country sounds.
How about it, sweetheart? I’ll buy you a cute little farm and come see you and the kids on the weekends.
I’ll keep you pregnant, milk you like the sweet little cow you are… ”
Fuck me. My degradation hits the spot, and she explodes, her scream more of a wheeze with the suffocating pressure of my belt around her neck. Her tight cunt gives me no choice, and with a groan, I still deep inside her, pumping her full.
I can see Carter’s raised eyebrow from here, mocking me after I lectured him on safe sex earlier.
This is different. This isn’t just some random bitch; she’s my Madame de Pompadour.
It’ll be better for her this way. She can have all the trappings of my queen with none of the boring responsibilities…
A whimper pulls me from my scheming, and I realize I’m still buried in Blanche, pulling so tightly on her leash that she's red, with tears streaming down her face.
I unbuckle her, leaving her lying on my desk panting.
Rounding the corner, I kneel at her eye level, seeing the bliss underneath her tears.
“Is that what you wanted when you walked in here with a bare pussy?”
She rolls her eyes but winks at me before slowly sitting up, pulling her bra and blouse back into place, and flipping her skirt back down. Crossing her legs and perching herself on the edge of the desk, she would look prim and proper if not for her smeared makeup and mussed hair.
And the fact that I know she’s currently leaking what I gave her. The only woman to have ever had the privilege.
“Well, gentlemen, as much of a pleasure as this was, I really should be going…”
I can’t stop the harsh laugh that escapes as I pass her a glass of water.
She gulps it down greedily, and satisfaction curls around my spine.
It grows as she sways, dropping the glass and fixing me with an accusing look.
She’s incensed as she realizes, yes, but I can see past it.
She’s exhilarated. Oh yes, Blanche Bedford. You’ve met your match.
“You won’t be going anywhere except home with me, darling. We have an entire weekend together.”
As she collapses into my arms, I relish her softness and her beautiful skin that will soon be covered in my bruises.
“Well, Sinclair, it’s been a while since we had this kind of a weekend—”
“No.”
His confusion is clear as I lift Blanche gently into my arms.
“Not this weekend, Carter. This weekend, I’m not sharing. For now, at least. She's mine.”