Page 204 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
It was late into the evening when I finally gave in to the inevitable temptation and called up Elaine’s calendar for the week ahead. She’d refreshed it, with a listing ofHarrietin front of almost every activity that week. There was another ridiculously glossy charity gig on Wednesday for some low paid workers education fundraiser, and some Roosevelt social dinner on Thursday. Friday had a stylist’s appointment with some overpriced Hemmings designer shop.
Then Saturday was simple. Simple but vague.
Tristan.
I had plenty of social events of my own to be attending. We had a Morellis casino night scheduled for Thursday. Me, Carter, Elliot, and Kit. I had a bullshit meal arranged with Elliot and his university friends, showing my face with fake handshakes as though I gave two shits for his social circle, and I had an evening with my parents on Saturday.
I didn’t want to do any of them.
Elliot sent me a text as I finally left the office that night. A simple text,news?Nothing more.
I knew exactly what he was referring to.
My response was a one-worder.None.
His reply was instant.Thank fuck for that.
I opted for some sensibility at least, and went straight from Morelli Holdings to another of my business places. One I should’ve been attending more often, in an attempt to quell some of my spiking base level urges.
Clark wasn’t around when I stepped into the bar at Violent Delights, but I didn’t head through to the back office to track him down. I went straight to a table overlooking the main stage and clicked my fingers for service.
The woman on serving duties didn’t need to ask what I was drinking. She presented my mineral water on a tray, bending down low enough that I caught sight of her cleavage in her lacy little bra. I could bend her over the table and fuck her right now. She wouldn’t fight me. No, she’d enjoy herself.
First I would make her cry.
Then I would make her orgasm so hard she passed out.
And then I’d stuff a handful of hundred dollar bills into her bra.
Elaine.
I wanted Elaine. I imagined my little blonde Constantine toy, trussed up in chains as she took my fury. I imagined her poor scarred thighs being nothing compared to the unleashing of my torment as I drew pretty lace patterns on her flesh with my whip and crop.
My pretty toy Elaine would like it, too—masochistic little fuck doll with beautiful, scared eyes.
The server batted her eyes. Brown.
The eyes staring up at me didn’t belong to Elaine Constantine.
The tremble of her lip wasn’t Constantine fear.
My cock was straining but didn’t want the woman at my feet. My mouth was watering, but it wasn’t for the girl ready to give me hers.
“More mineral water,” I barked, and she squirmed for a few seconds, gathering her breath.
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Sorry for dropping your drink, Mr. Morelli, sir.”
Fuck, it washer, her, her. Alwaysher, her, her, slamming through my filthy skull.
I downed the mineral water, struggling to focus on the bodies in the room around me. Surely I wanted one of them. I tried to concentrate on the cracks of whips and the wails of pain around them. I tried to stare at the submissives bound up in chains and feel even a shiver of desire to see them writhing in agony in my hands.
But no. No, no, fucking no.
There was only one blonde sub I wanted in chains in front of me. There was only one woman’s wails I wanted to hear.
I was a man who always took what I wanted from life, whenever I wanted it. I knew nothing but my own success, no matter what the cost. I climbed any mountain, no matter how steep or how tough, no matter how fucked up the mountain climb could be.
I wanted to climb Elaine Constantine and tear her apart on the descent.
