Chapter 26
Blake
I’m going to fucking kill her.
No. I’m going to fuck her, and then I’m going to kill her. Hell, at this point, I might kill her while I fuck her.
I’m about ready to strangle Tracy for the shit she just pulled. If she thinks she’s going to just walk away from this and I’m going to act like nothing happened, she’s out of her mind.
Blood whirs in my ears, and that need to hit something—to break something—washes over me.
I never claimed to be a good man—I’m not.
I’ll walk over anyone who stands between my family and I.
I’ll take out anyone who is a threat to my business and my success.
And I’ll squash anyone who turns against me.
But I’ve changed. I’ve worked my ass off to keep a lid on my temper. To keep that urge in check that tells me to lash out. To throw my fists. To fucking smash something, someone, anything.
Yet, the day Tracy walked into my office, the lid started cracking. She tugs at my sense of control, unraveling it slowly and methodically, leaving me sitting here wanting to slap her ass black and blue before finally—fucking finally—sinking into her and taking what I want. What I need.
What’s mine.
I should hate her. I should send her fucking packing for the way she’s upended my life and my business, but it only makes me want her more.
It makes me want to take my hatred out on her in the dirtiest ways possible.
To make her confident exterior crack away, leaving her a whimpering, shaking mess beneath me as I bury myself deep in her cunt.
I pull at the tie around my hands again, but it doesn’t budge.
She tied it so tight that there isn’t any slack between my wrists and the chair.
I can barely wiggle my wrists at all—not to mention my hands are now numb—and it’s too tight to even stand up from the chair.
The damn thing just lifts off the ground with me when I try to stand, digging into the backs of my knees and causing me to fall back down onto it.
How in the actual fuck does she think I’m supposed to get myself out of this?
I briefly consider yelling for help, but the embarrassment that would come along with one of my agents finding me tied to my own chair covered in cum is enough to strike that idea from the list.
Glancing down at my crotch, the crusty stained patch on my slacks is a cruel reminder of the shit she just pulled, and how I’ve now spent damn near an hour tied to this motherfucking chair.
Tension radiates up my arms and into my shoulders, and I drop my head, rolling it from side to side like it will do anything to help me relax.
Like it will somehow calm my racing thoughts about what I’m going to do to Tracy.
How I’m going to make her pay. The way I’ll make her bleed. The way she’ll be begging me…
“Hey, Tracy just sent me a really weird text saying to check on you and… What. The. Fuck?” My head snaps up to find Whitney staring at me from across my office. “Are you tied to your chair?”
The little shit has the audacity to be amused about this. She’s doing her best to hold back her laughter and keep a smile off her face, but that fucking glint in her eye and tip of her lips gives her away.
“Don’t say a fucking word,” I warn her. “Get over here and untie me.”
She gives me a salute. “Sure thing, boss.”
But as she approaches, I remember the stain on my slacks. “Fuck, no, wait. Stop.”
She halts in her tracks. “But—”
“Go find Craig,” I interrupt. I’d rather his judgemental looks than my own sister seeing me with jizz all over my pants.
“He already left for the day,” Whitney says, resuming her way over and rounding my desk.
“I can do it—Oh my god!” Her hand comes to her mouth.
“What the fuck, Blake? Gross!” Her face contorts into a look of pure mortification.
“Is this some kind of weird sex thing? I mean, I always knew you were into some kinky shit—having shared a wall with you growing up—but… Is this like some kind of humiliation thing?”
“It’s humiliating, alright,” I grumble.
She reaches behind me and starts working the knots. “How the hell did you tie these?” Her hands stop moving and she faces me again. “Wait, did Tracy do this?”
“Well, I didn’t fucking tie myself to the chair,” I snap.
Whitney grins at me, her eyes going wide. I swear to god I am going to kill them both.
“And she just left you here?” The little shit laughs.
Sighing, I tell her, “Just untie me.”
Whitney flashes me another shit-eating grin and resumes untying the knots.
When she finally frees me, I stand, my legs immediately going numb.
I plant my hands on my desk to steady myself until I get feeling in my legs again, except that my hands are also still numb, and I damn near fall over my desk.
Resigning to defeat, I sink back into the chair I was just so desperate to get out of, and will my body to start functioning so I can begin the murder spree.
Whitney leans against my desk, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches me.
“What, Whit?” I ask, though I have zero desire to hear what she has to say.
“Quite the predicament you were in,” she says, her voice lighting with amusement.
“Your point?” I scowl at her.
“Would be a shame if anyone else were to hear about this.”
“Are you trying to fucking blackmail me right now?” I rise from my chair, my hands and legs tingling as I stand in front of Whitney. I tower over her, but she doesn’t back down, she doesn’t falter. That Frenshaw fight runs deep.
“I’m just saying,” she shrugs, “I like Tracy. She’s like the sister I never had. So, don’t fuck this up.”
With that, she leaves my office, like she didn’t just threaten to share with the world that I was tied to a chair with cum all over my pants if I do anything to hurt Tracy’s precious fucking feelings.
Little does she know, Tracy is going to love the way I hurt her feelings.