Chapter Two
Ethan
I am playing a very dangerous game. But those are the only games worth playing.
This young woman squirming in front of me is a prize unlike any other I have ever won. When I first received her message, I planned to pay her off. It’s usually a simple enough matter. Seven figures, an NDA, and we’re done.
But Casey is different. She has principles. She’s managed to escape her early twenties with her ideals intact. That’s rare. Most people have sold out so hard by her age, been pounded by the realities of life to the point they’ll take money for practically anything. Or maybe it just happens that I travel in circles of the particularly venal. At any rate, she is a curiosity and a rarity.
There’s something about her, an innocence I can’t help but want to defile. She’s arrogant too, so sure of herself even though she really has no reason to be. I’m sure she’d be horrified if I were to tell her that I see a little of myself in her.
I’d have told me to go fuck myself. I would have extorted me for millions too, which she didn’t do. She doesn’t want money. She just wanted me to do the right thing. It’s a sweet idea, but there are a whole lot of reasons why men like me can’t afford to do the ‘right’ thing.
I couldn’t have lied to her. She’s too smart for that. What she found has been in plain sight for well over a year. Nobody else has detected it, because it’s not obvious. You have to be a certain kind of smart to work out what the various nodes do and how they can interact. She deduced our system without ever seeing the back end. It’s the equivalent of knowing what a jigsaw puzzle looks like from three pieces.
This is one smart woman. And smart people are dangerous, especially if they have principles—especially to themselves.
And she’s beautiful. I am used to attractive women. I employ dozens of them. My world is full of models and other alluring creatures, but Casey is different from most of them. I’m sure she’s noticed that she’s appealing to the male gaze, but she hasn’t traded on it. I’d even go so far as to say her clothing is a brazen attempt to hide how attractive she is.
She has long dark hair, eyes so brown I could lose myself in them. There’s a lot hidden in this rebellious gaze of hers. Her mouth is kissable, red and pouting, not from cosmetics, but from being fucked good and long and hard. Her skin is a beautiful caramel tone, little freckles dotting her nose and her cheeks.
She smells like me. Because her pussy is dripping with me. Usually, once I have a woman, I lose interest. This doesn’t make me a good man, but that’s because I’m not a good man. Or a nice one. I’m a ruthless fucking bastard, and this woman has a light that even a cunt full of cum doesn’t dull.
Her desire was a surprise. I didn’t expect her to want me sexually. After our meeting in my office, I reckoned that she was too ideologically opposed to me to ever muster desire. But I was wrong about that. She wants me even more than the gold diggers do.
I knew from her search history that she had a fascination with kink, but that alone does not a submissive make. When my belt landed, she blossomed. She arched her hips and she presented that ass to be punished. I don’t think she knew she was doing it, but I think the officers were superfluous. I think I could have her present herself to me for whatever I liked and she would do it, because beneath that whip-smart, smart-mouthed shell, she’s a wildcat waiting to be tamed.
I drop a kiss on her mouth. Hard. Punishing. Deep.
She melts against me, her hands going to my chest, not to push away, but to draw down the length of my midsection. She likes what she feels. Poor thing is trapped by her biology. I’m everything her flesh is designed to want, but I’m also everything she hates.
This is not going to be easy for either of us. Good.