Page 1 of Bourbon Kingdom
Chapter One
“Black Widow”
GOLDIE
“Why hello, Kitten. You’ve just made my night.”
Oh, my God, what the hell was I doing?
Standing in front of me was Rex Titan, with a look that screamed he was going to dig into my panties, not bothering to take my pants off first, and eat me up. Maybe a few months ago I would have welcomed the carnal munching, but right about now, with a heavy heart and a sad image of Jett in my mind, I wanted to run away.
This was a mistake.
How was I going to go through with this? How was I going to keep Rex’s dick out of my orifices? Because, right about now, I was pretty sure he would fuck my ear if I pushed back my hair. No doubt about it, he was going to want to bone, but I couldn’t let that happen. If I let Rex touch me in any kind of way, even a good ear fucking, that would be the end of any chance I had with Jett.
I had to come up with a plan and fast, something I should have thought of before I showed up at his front door with a bag in my hand.
Clearing my throat, I looked up at Rex through my lashes—playing the ever-pathetic victim—and said, “Hi, Rex. Can I . . . come in?”
Good stutter, I congratulated myself, knowing I was about to step up my acting game.
Act weak, act fragile, act like you’ve been torn up into shreds, I coached myself. Give him your best Oscar-worthy performance! Pretend his dick is a camera and work the fuck out of it.
“I would want nothing more than to have you in my home, Kitten. Please, come in.”
I wanted to smack the smug look he was sporting off his face, but refrained from physically assaulting him, it would go against my plan after all.
“Thank you,” I said meekly, as I stepped inside his home and took in the surroundings.
Thanks to Carlos, my dearest bartender from Kitten’s Castle, he was able to locate Rex’s home for me and give me the address so I could follow through with my plan, my not-very-well-constructed plan. I’d never been to Rex’s house, and from the looks of it, I was kind of glad. Um, can you say borderline hoarder?
Looking around Rex’s house, I knew he was rich, but I didn’t know he was close to Jett Colby rich. Instead of the modern feel you get when you walk into the Lafayette Club, Rex’s style was more old money with rich red and brown tones, old leather, and oak furniture, with a massive amount of collectibles gracing his walls, making it almost impossible to see the paint. It was nice-ish, but it was straight-up stuffy.
“Can I take your bag?” Rex asked, as he came up behind me and pressed his chest to my back.
Yup, homeboy was going to have to be put in his place sooner rather than later, because there was no way in hell I would be dropping trou for him.
“Sure, there’s not much, just my suitcase.”
“That’s fine,” he replied, while taking my suitcase and setting it down next to the grand staircase that curved up to a second floor. “Are you hungry?”
“Oh, I couldn’t eat,” I said, grabbing my stomach. “I’m not feeling so well.”
“Are you sick, Kitten?”
Was I sick? I could be sick. I knew how to cough on demand, but being sick would lead to probably seeing a doctor, and then he would say there was nothing wrong with me, and then Rex would see that I was a liar, so taking the whole sick route to avoid Rex’s penis wasn’t going to work. At least, that’s what I expected.
“No,” I answered. “It’s been a bad night for me.”
Surprisingly, my voice choked up at mentioning my night, adding to the distress I was trying to portray.
In reality, I really was stressed and heartbroken. I hated, hated, taking off my necklace. I felt unprotected, empty, and lifeless without it on. I felt disconnected from Jett, like a little piece of me died when I handed him back the necklace. His face was still running rampant through my mind, but I tried to squash it. I was here for a reason. I was here to take back the life I wanted to lead with Jett, and I wasn’t going to leave until I accomplished my mission.
“Come, sit down and talk to me,” Rex suggested.
I didn’t like how nice he was being, almost too nice. He wasn’t usually this attentive, this accommodating, but then again, all my experiences with him were a little more animalistic than talkity-talk time. Most of the time, we would forgo conversation when we met up, and the only talking Rex ever really did was to tell me to bend over and take him all the way in. I mean, that’s good conversation, polite sexual conversation, you know, never talking with your mouth full of dick and all, but not the type of conversation that was necessarily trying to make a connection . . . well, no, it was making a connection that was for damn sure, but not the type of conversation that helped you get to know the other person.
I followed Rex past a living area and into a giant family space. Why humans needed two “living rooms” would be something I never understood. What did someone do with two living rooms? How did one decide which one to hang out in on a given day? Did they ever feel bad that they didn’t spend enough time with one of the living rooms? Did the living rooms fight over their master?
