4. 4 ADRIAN
4 ADRIAN
Mckenna stumbles on her way out of Club Lust. I stop myself from putting my hand on the small of her back. She grabs the door frame and flinches.
I don’t know if it’s from the slightly cooler air outside or the fact that her reality is crashing down on her, but with her shoulders rounded, she crosses the threshold.
From the outside, Club Lust looks like an old warehouse. I see a pair of headlights flash from the parking lot, and it’s my driver, Jared, at the wheel of the sleek Mercedes-Benz S600 Maybach.
I love this car for more reasons than the built-in fridge and the comfy seats.
“Good evening, Mr. McIntyre,” Jared greets me.
“Home, please, Jared.” He holds the door open for me. “Get in,” I tell Mckenna.
She glares at me, and her pinched expression is visible in the outer lighting from the club.
“That’s my father’s car,” her tone is clipped, the anger clear on her face.
“No, it’s mine,” I manage to hide my smirk, but barely.
Her hands ball into fists. She scrunches her eyes up tight, and it’s kind of adorable.
A part of me wants to curse her and tell her how pitiful she is, having sold herself to the highest bidder. She is out in a parking lot wearing lingerie, with her make-up all ruined. And another part of me wants to comfort her, to throw a blanket around her, tell her to change, and take her out for a romantic meal.
Because, dammit, my heart has always wanted this woman.
I push those thoughts out of my head.
I don’t care that this is hard for her, not really.
She got her revenge on me, and now it’s my turn.
I grab her arm and jerk her forward so she slips a little. “Get in,” I slap her ass, the impact of my hand echoing in the street.
I was going to wait until we were in privacy again to pick up the treatment of her. I was going to let her stew in her thoughts and demand that she hold her silence, but her attitude tells me I have to keep this up.
Maybe it’s what we both need, a complete separation from the past.
“No, not on the seat. Kneel on the floorboards.”
She does, shuffling against the passenger seat. I climb in, unzipping my fly as I do, taking down my pants.
I settle into the backseat.
“Put your mouth on my dick. But do not suck me or use your tongue. I better not feel teeth. You are nothing more than a cockwarmer.”
Her cheeks turn a red shade as Jared closes the door. Her eyes widen, but she reaches out, takes my semi-hard cock in her hand, sliding her mouth over it.
Ah, fuck.
It’s a warm forge whose heat coats my cock and sends shivers down my spine.
I would love to thrust so far down her throat that she’s choking and sputtering on me, but there’s time for that later.
Right now, I am putting her in her place, reminding her that she is nothing more than mine to use now, and by heaven, I will use her.
Taking out my phone and stylus, I bring up the long list of emails that need my attention. The car bounces over a pothole, and Mckenna’s tongue slides up my shaft before quickly coming to a stop.
I don’t react, not wanting to give her any attention.
Pretending to glance at my phone, I can see the tears in her eyes. Ignoring her, I flip on to the next email.
But her mouth on my cock is paradise, and the silence is thick with simmering angst. It’s taking as much patience from me as it is from her. I wonder who I am really objectifying by this act. With a steel will, I force myself to work.
My father always called Davis, Mckenna’s father, the most brilliant man he knew.
There’s no denying that’s true.
Davis Moran made discoveries in ciphering that the industry is only now catching up to. He developed a shelf-stabilizing compound that made food last longer on the shelves and saved lives. All Davis wanted to do was help people.
But the man couldn’t keep money. It slid through his fingers like sand, disappearing as soon as he touched it.
When they set up McIntyre-Moran Industries, my father graciously set it up, so all of Davis’s assets were protected under the company’s umbrella.
Davis could never have foreseen that would have been his downfall as much as being unable to hang onto money was.
Mckenna swallows on my cock, reflexively. I reach down and pull her hair. Her eyes flash with anger.
“You’re a filthy slut, only good for keeping my cock warm.”
Remembering her reaction in the dressing room, I scoop up some saliva and dribble it along her cheeks, smearing some on her forehead.
Her breathing is shallow, the pulse at her neck jumps and all the blood rushes to my cock as it throbs in her lava mouth.
I am relishing the fact that there is a part of her that is enjoying this mistreatment.
Wiping my finger in her hair, I return to my phone.
Davis Moran is an affable man, never one to raise his voice, and a man happy to follow others, and that’s what made him a prime target in the end.
My father, a man who naturally oozes power and confidence, wanted to get into the biotech world. It was a happenstance meeting at Yale, where he was leaving a lecture hall. Mckenna’s father was walking into the building, his nose in a book.
The meeting was comical but the start of a perfect business marriage.
At the height of MM Industries, movie executives were circling, wanting our fathers to sell their story. A part of me wishes they had.
My parents took Mckenna’s family under their wing, introducing them to Boston’s elite society.
By the time Mckenna and I were born, it was like her family had always been one of Boston’s wealthiest. Her mother held epic dinner parties, loved to shop, and joined my mother in various charity works. The transition was seamless, with no cracks showing.
The crack came years later.
The car turns into my estate in the Palmer Woods neighborhood. It’s an ultramodern house made of architectural glass, blocks stacked on each other in an “L” shape. The house is fine; it was the first one on the market when I was looking to move here, but I am a little homesick for the charm of my Boston home.
Jared pulls into the covered garage.
Grabbing a fistful of Mckenna’s auburn strands, I yank her head up and let my cock fall from her mouth before circling her head. “I can smell how aroused you are, hellion. I bet your panties are soaked, aren’t they?” She glares at me, but licks her lips.
“I hate you!”
“I know, and your anger is so sweet.” I let go of her hair and adjust myself so I’m decent by the time Jared comes around and opens my door. I step out and straighten my suit jacket.
“Bring Miss Moran’s bags inside,” I tell him.
“Should I put her in the downstairs guest room?”
“No, my room will be fine.”
I don’t know if Mckenna heard me, but her posture is straight as if she’s frozen in place. I can’t have that.
“Get out, Mckenna.”
She does and stands in front of me. My heart races because a part of me wants to swoop her into my arms and take us back in time to when, if she had only said yes to me, our lives would have turned out very differently.
But there’s no point in dwelling on the past. As I think of how many times this woman said no to me, whether I asked her for a bike ride or a trail ride, to take her to the homecoming dance, or to tutor me in biology, she coolly said “no” every single time, my resolve sharpens.
“Tell me again who you belong to this weekend?”
“You.”
“That’s right. And what did I call you back in the dressing room?”
Her quick, indrawn breath makes my cock throb against my zipper.
“Shoe licker.”
“And what did I call you in the car?”
Her eyes meet mine, and her lips turn up in a sneer.
I grab her shoulder and apply pressure until she meets my gaze. “Answer me.”
“Cockwarmer.”
“Tell me what that makes you.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head back and forth.
“Say it, Mckenna. Tell me what you’ve served me tonight as, nice and slow..”
“Your shoe licking cockwarmer,” her tone rises on the word and I hide my grin.
“You forgot the Sir.” I slap her thigh, and the sound of my palm meeting her flesh is one I can become addicted to.
The angry blaze in her eyes could set a lesser man on fire.
“Your shoe licker cockwarmer, Sir.”
“That’s right, you needy slut.”
I turn on my heel and walk through my hinge door. From the garage, the space opens to a long hallway. To the left is the kitchen/dining room. To the right is the room I use for entertaining, and the staircase leads upstairs to the bedrooms. The house smells of roasting meat and delicious vegetables.
I had asked my personal chef to prepare a meal because my plan was to come home with whatever girl I won at the auction, give her dinner, have a little hot tub fun, some light play, and hopefully, great sex, followed by morning sex.
I was going to take the girl shopping for something to wear for Ava’s engagement party tomorrow night, and then we’d play more before I took her out, finishing up a great weekend.
My jaw locks. I’m almost angry at my ruined plan. Mckenna stands with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at a modern art piece I have on the wall. The piece depicts birds in flight.
“You haven’t thanked me.” My words are cold. I run other possibilities through my mind, knowing I can’t be a complete monster. As angry as I am with Mckenna, she is still my responsibility.
I’m not going to do anything that affects my reputation. The repair I had to do took a lot of resources, and I want to keep my Club Lust membership open.
“For what?”
“For buying you. 500k will help rescue a lot of horses.”
Her head snaps back as if I’ve slapped her.
Striding over to the fridge, I take out a bottle of sparkling water and pour two glasses. Glancing at the time, I figure it’s been hours since Mckenna has eaten. I ignore the dinner set in the trays and take out my pre-made protein smoothie. I drink it every morning after my workout.
Suddenly recalling that Mckenna dislikes cherries, I take out my cherry-flavored protein powder from the pantry and add it to the smoothie. I pour about half a cup of the liquid into a ceramic bowl.
Mckenna is staring at me from the doorway of the kitchen, still frozen.
I ignore her and fill myself a plate of the feast that’s been prepared for me. Taking both dishes, I go into the dining room.
A long black table with a glass top seats four because I like having lots of space around me. A large fern stood in the corner and a set of sliding patio doors lead out to the garden and pool area.
I could close the blinds, but I like this glass house, like I’m daring them to throw stones; all those who thought my father was knee deep with the mob.
“Come, Mckenna,” I call, realizing she is still frozen at the kitchen doorway. She takes slow steps until she’s standing at my right side.
Her fists are clenched, she’s not meeting my eyes, that’s fine.
“This is the only time I am going to check in with you the rest of the night from here on out; if there is something wrong, if you’re in physical or mental discomfort or hurt or want to exit the scene, you use your safeword. What was it again?” I tilt my head, staring across the room at a picture of the rolling fields of Grace’s stables.
My mother loves horses, and we could have had our own stables, but she said there was no horse person better than Grace, and my father was content not to own something he didn’t understand. Mckenna hasn’t noticed the picture yet.
“Penelope,” she grits out.
“I want to hear it again.” I place my hands on her shoulders. Then I turn her so she is staring at the picture of the rolling green fields. The two mares in the photo—one chestnut, the other a palomino with the sweetest temperament.
Mckenna gasps. Her fist swings back to hit me, and I grab it hard.
“I didn’t hear you?”
“Penelope,” Mckenna whispers.
“Now kneel beside me. Let me eat in peace and enjoy your meal.” I set the smoothie bowl before her.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.
I make an exaggerated tsking noise, “No hands, Mckenna. Eat, because you’ll need your energy, and because you must obey me this weekend.”
She purses her lips. For a moment, I am sure she’s going to throw the smoothie bowl at me, but she closes her eyes briefly and sets to the task, a strand of her hair falling down along her face and hitting the edge of the bowl.
“Slurp it all up, you cockwarmer, shoe-licker slut,” I laugh, and as a gasp escapes her mouth, I sit down and tuck into my food.
When my mother realized that Penelope was also part of the assets, she suggested we keep her instead of selling her with the other horses. My mother has a soft spot for Mckenna, and over the years, my sister Ava often heard, “I wish you’d be as kind as Mckenna,” or “Ava, why couldn’t you make that last jump, like Mckenna did?”
The week after the hostile takeover of MM Industries, I tried calling Mckenna to let her know that I had saved Penelope and that she was at Grace’s old stables. But I never got through to her. Her phone was out of service. It’s another example of how I tried to do something thoughtful for her, but was met with stony silence.
I thought Grace would tell her, but Grace and her husband had started divorce proceedings and wanted to keep it out of the press. Grace had entrusted the care of her horses and property to a friend while she stayed with her sister.
Mckenna sniffles as she licks the smoothie bowl. I don’t miss how red her cheeks are, and how she is finding this debasement a total turn-on.
“Nice to know your tongue is good for more than just licking shoes.” I fist my hand in her hair, pushing her face further into the bowl.
The low, gravelly moan she lets out tells me she’s aroused. The loud slurping noise seems to be the only one in the room. My throat is dry. Seeing Mckenna like this is making me want to fuck her right here.
I run my foot along her leg. A shudder rolls through her body and I’m so damn drunk in Dominance pleasure.
“Oh, God.” She lifts her face from the bowl. Her nipples are deliciously beaded, stabbing through the camisole she’s wearing.
“Oh? I see that you’re done. Be my dishwasher and clean my plate for me.”
I set it down in front of her.
“No!” There is smoothie all over her face, but she is still gorgeous.
I cup her nape and press her face to my plate. “Yes. Now, Mckenna, we have other things to do before I let you sleep tonight.”
And as if she can’t help herself, she rocks her hips forward. “I see. Being my dishwasher slut makes you even wetter, doesn’t it?”
“No!” Tears slide down her face, but her tongue pokes out. With a shuddering exhale, she licks the edge of my plate.
Ah, that’s not what I meant.
“All of it, my dish-washing slut.”
Using her hair as a handle, I tug it and press her face into the middle of the plate. She chokes out a sob. The sound makes me so hard, I could bust a nut right here.
She sniffles and whimpers, but after a moment, her whole body relaxes, her breathing turns heavy.
This really is her kink.
I hide my smile as I drag my foot across her calves.
She shudders, and damn, I swear the air is even more perfumed by her arousal.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I drop her hair and I even pick up her bowl and my plate, leaving it on the table for my staff.
She leans forward as if she’s a rag-doll like she’s so aroused that all the tension has left her body.
“Upstairs, Mckenna. You need a shower. I don’t know where you have been, but I’m not touching you further until I’ve inspected every part of your body.”
I press my foot along her back.
She scrambles to her feet. “Yes, Sir.”
My blood heats. I can’t wait to torment her tonight.