"You've made a smart choice," Luca Giannoni says, clapping his meaty hand on my shoulder. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to take my calls." His hand could belong to a Sasquatch. I swear it's hairy enough, and there's no doubt that this guy is an animal. I feel the weight of his hand on my body and wonder why he thinks he needs to be so passive aggressive.

"It's been a busy few weeks," I say, and shrug off the comment. But honestly, all I can think about is how I haven't had sex with Ashley in over a week.

"Sure it has, but listen, don't ever mistake my kindness for weakness. Mr. Morozov doesn't take well to being ignored."

I sense the thinly veiled threat in his voice and I hand him the signed document, slamming the pen down on the desk. I need to get out of this office before he really pisses me off and I do something I shouldn't. "Well, none of that matters anymore. Here's the paperwork. The ownership transfer of these clubs is now in the hands of Mr. Morozov."

With one hand rolled into a tight fist in the pocket of my suit, I turn around and give him a wave with my other free hand. There's a fake smile plastered across my face, and I leave the room before Luca can respond. I walk outside, and hail a cab. The sun is so bright that I take a moment to stop and find my sunglasses. The cab pulls up and as I open the car door and slide into the back seat, I think about the transaction that just transpired.

Here I am, a fucking Harvard MBA graduate, and I'm making deals with the Russian mob. What the hell am I doing with my life? And as soon as I ask myself that question, Ashley pops into my mind. Fuck she's beautiful… maybe even perfect. I've seen a lot of smoking hot women in my lifetime, but she tops them all. Fucking her was unbelievable… it's been painful that it's been over a week. I pull out my phone and decide to send her a text. I hesitate for a moment, staring at the chat screen, and thinking about what exactly to say. Fuck it; I'm definitely overthinking this. Why am I acting like such an idiot? I text, "Let's meet up."

Before I can even slip the phone back into my pocket, she responds, "I don't think that's a good idea."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I text back, "Why not?"

I wait for a few minutes, but she doesn't respond. I give it another couple of minutes, and still nothing. This is driving me crazy. If she doesn't want to reply to my texts, I'll reach her another way—through her direct phone sex line. I'm not one to give up—I always get what I want.

I dial her line and wait. The phone rings, and then I hear her. She picks up.

"Hi, this is Misty. Who am I speaking with?"

The first thing I notice is that her voice sounds different—smooth and sultry, and I swear my cock is already twitching. She's a good actress, that's for sure. But she can't find out it's me on the other end of the line, so I lower my voice and muffle it with the fabric of my suit.

"King Henry."

"Oh, I've never spoken to a king before," she purrs.

"Good, because I'm the only king that matters. You belong to me, don't you?"

"Mm hmm," she whispers.

"Tell me that you belong to me, Kitten," I demand.

"I do. You're my king and I belong to you," she coos, maintaining a smooth, even voice.

"Good, Kitten. Now I want you to tell me what you'd do to my cock if I was with you right now."

"I'd do so many thing. First, I'd—"

I cut her off. "You mean, King Henry. Say my name when you talk to me."

She pauses for a moment, and I hear her breathing deepen. "Yes, King Henry. I'd worship your cock. I'd slowly unbutton your pants and drop them to your feet. I'd wrap my arms around your big, strong body and pull you tight against my own—my breasts and my hard nipples would be pressed under the weight of your manhood. My nipples are hard just thinking about you. My lips would then touch yours, and I would nibble on you with a hunger you've never felt before."

"And what kind of a hunger is that, Kitten?" I ask.

"I'd—"

"Stop, and address me as your king before you continue. If you mess that up again, you'll have to spank yourself."

"Yes, King Henry. I'd bite you in a trail of hunger, starting on your lips, and then moving down until I reach the ridges of your stomach. I'd slide my hands over your thighs and between your legs… moving slowly until I've reached your large, hard cock. Oh, I'm so wet right now just thinking about you."

"Stop touching your pussy. I can see you doing that because I can hear it in your voice. You can't touch your pussy until I command you to. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what, Kitten?"

"Yes, King Henry."

"That's better. Now spank yourself for not addressing me properly."

"Yes, King Henry," she says, and then I hear a loud slap. I can tell she's naked. It's the sound of skin on skin. She's slapped herself so hard that her ass is definitely red.

"Now show me how you'd worship my cock."

"Yes, King Henry. I'd get down on my knees and wrap my hand around your cock and glide it into my mouth and deep into my throat. I'd take your entire shaft down my throat, until I couldn't anymore."

Now she's got me hooked, and I make sure the driver isn't watching as I slip my hands down my pants, stroking my cock, and I continue. "I want you down on all fours," I command her.

"Yes, King Henry."

"Are you down on all fours right now?" I ask, just to be certain.

"Yes, King Henry. I'm down on all fours," she replies at just above a whisper. I can barely hear her.

"Good job Kitten. Now finger your pussy and make sure you're ready for me."

"Oh, god I'm ready for you King Henry. My pussy is throbbing for you—fuck it's so wet."

“Do you have any toys you use to play with yourself?” I ask.

There’s a pause. “Yes, King Henry,” she replies.

“Good,” I say. “Go get it.”

There’s a rustling and I can hear the phone being put down. She’s obedient. That’s what being horny does to her.

A minute later, she’s back.

“I have it, King Henry,” she says.

“Good, describe it, Kitten,” I tell her.

She gasps. “It’s a footlong dildo, its black, and it’s ribbed, King Henry,” she says to me.

“Close your eyes because that’s now my cock in your hands, Kitten,” I tell her and I can just see her laying down with the sex toy.

“Yes, King,” Ashley says.

"Good, now I want you to glide my cock into you. Grab it like it's the last cock on earth."

"Oh god, you're cock is so big King Henry… I'm—I'm gliding it deep, really deep in—inside of me, and I can barely—"

But before she can finish her sentence, I can hear every muscle in her body spasm and I know she's coming. I stroke my cock faster and faster, and then with my eyes clenched shut, ropes of cum erupt from cock. I don't give a shit about anything around me—the driver, or otherwise, and I continue to come. When I finally open my eyes, I realize it's all over my suit pants. I don't wait for Ashley to say another word, and I hang up our call.

I can hardly believe that just happened. I take off my suit jacket and hold it in front of me. That's all I need is for the doorman at One57 to catch a glance at the stain on my pants. He's never say anything, but still. Just then, the cab pulls up to my apartment. I pay the fare, and quickly get out of the car, and then I feel it. My phone is vibrating in my pants pocket with an incoming text message. I quickly take it out and read it. It's from Ashley, "OK, maybe you're right. Let's meet up later."

I can't help but smile at the small victory. See, I told you. I don't take no for an answer; I always get what I want.