Page 56 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
“My cock won’t fit in that tight little ass with the stick you’ve got shoved up it, so we better get to stretching it out.” He nods toward the bathroom. “The lube is in the bottom right drawer. My advice? Be generous with it. And you’re not leaving without that plug in your ass, so you better hurry if you want to make your meeting.”
Rage. My seemingly constant companion blooms again as I back away from the man that I definitely could pull a trigger on, especially at this moment. No one would miss him. New Orleans would rejoice at his demise. Or so I assume.
I keep my steps measured and my glare intact until my heels click on the marble floor of the bathroom and I slam the door behind me.
Resting my forehead against it for only a few seconds, I stare down at the black box in my hands, and like I’ve suddenly developed X-ray vision, I can see exactly what lies inside.
When I shove off the panel and face the mirror, my face is the picture of outrage and horror. Which pretty accurately conveys how I feel right now.
I can’t do this. The girl in the mirror is one hundred percent certain of that fact. The voice that harnesses my rage argues in opposition. Of course you can. It’s a butt plug, not a syringe of heroin. Stop being a pussy and find the lube so you can go meet your bankers and act like the CEO you are.
Crouching down, I yank open the bottom right drawer and find the lube exactly where he said it would be. Fucking bastard. The slur is getting repetitive, even to my ears. I need to come up with something new to fully express this level of fury.
I snap open the lid of the box and pull out the plug, holding it in one hand and the lube in the other.
All I have to do is spread it on and shove it in. I can do this.
My back door clenches tightly, delivering a solid no way in hell response.
But if I miss this meeting and Seven Sinners’ loan ends up in workout, my dad will find out, and . . . I don’t even want to picture the fallout.
I flip the cap on the lube and dump some on the black-and-gold plug. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to use it, and I’m pretty sure Magnolia had given me an anal trainer kit years ago as a gag gift that wasn’t really a gag.
With the base of the lube-coated plug gripped in one hand and the other tugging down the waistband of my thong, I stare into the mirror and give myself another pep talk.
Just shove it in. I squeeze my eyes shut and awkwardly maneuver it beneath the skirt of my dress, wishing I’d thought to remove it. I press the end against the hole I swore would remain virginal and try to force myself to push, but I can’t.
I just can’t.
With a cry of disgust, I throw the plug in the sink, tug my thong back into place, and grip the edge of the counter with both hands.
I’m a coward. And I totally should’ve used that anal trainer kit.
There’s a knock on the door. “This is your twenty-minute warning. With traffic, you might still make it on time if you hurry.”
Glaring, I spin around, wishing once again my stare could incinerate. I dash forward and yank the door open so quickly that I take Mount by surprise. He hangs on to the top edge of the door frame, staring down at me with that arrogant eyebrow raised. He studies me for a moment.
“Turn around and bend over.”
“No.”
His expression goes dark but flares with interest at the same time. “You and that word. Are you really disobeying my order?”
I swallow, because there’s no way I want to admit to him that I can’t do it. I hate this weakness in myself almost as much as I hate him. But the clock is ticking, and I don’t have time for my pride to get in the way of losing my family’s legacy. I’ve already sacrificed too much.
“I’m not doing it.”
His eyes narrow on my face, and he’s reading me too easily for comfort—again.
“Oh yes, you are, but that’s not what you’re saying. You won’t let yourself miss this meeting. So it’s either you can’t or won’t. Which one, Keira? Are you being stubborn or shy?” His eyes flare with heat as though both options excite him.
“Does it matter?”
“More than you know.”
When I hesitate to respond, he looks down at his watch, and I’m reminded of the need to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. That’s the only thing needed to prompt my honesty.
“I can’t.”
