3
ZANDER
HALE
“HOW WAS YOUR vacation?” Dr. Dempson asked. She pulled her thin framed glasses from her face and rubbed at the bridge of her nose before replacing them. “Did you have any… issues?”
Issues meaning sexual urges and or the need to stick my cock in the closest attractive woman.
What could I say?
It was a sickness.
An honest to God disease with no real cure.
Fornication in all forms was my thing. I was addicted to sexy women and the things their bodies were capable of. I was addicted to the release—the rise and the fall of a fantastic orgasm. The way my body responded and the high afterward.
Oral sex.
Several positions.
Domination.
When it came to me, it was more likely to be all three.
I hadn’t always been an addict. I could remember being an ordinary guy who enjoyed a healthy sexual appetite.
Missionary.
Doggy style.
No blindfolds.
Nothing even remotely exciting when I think about it.
Then one night during a drunken party, I smoked a little too much weed and suppressed memories of when I was a young boy surged forward and left me entirely fucked up.
I had forgotten all about my mother’s young boyfriend and the things he used to do me, but all it took was my first taste of drugs and a makeout session with a girl to remember. The memories came rushing over me like a disgusting wave of guilt and shame.
You would think memories like those would turn a person away from sex, but that was not what happened. Those memories needed to be erased, and the only way to do that was to replace them with pleasure.
So that was what I tried to do.
Repeatedly.
With many women.
And many times.
My tastes were unique and sometimes involved a certain amount of pain for my partner, but it felt terrific to lash out. And it seemed the more I played, the more he went away.
For years, I felt guilty over the sick sexual desires I housed until finally, I was old enough to act on them. I did all the twisted things I longed to do, and I did them well.
Women were everywhere.
Sucking me.
Fucking me.
Letting me control them and their bodies, maneuvering them how I wanted.
It was perfection.
Until it wasn’t.
Until I woke up hungover next to a dead girl and only the memory was of her saying no to sex with me the night before.
I left her there, her eyes still open and staring accusingly at me, and I swore at that moment I would get help. I swore I wouldn’t so much as touch my cock, much less act on my depraved desires. And I moved on, not thinking about the dead girl and what happened again.
The truth was, after that moment, I was a fucking mess. Throwing myself into all the Empire Sevens and suffocating my pasts and all the dark parts of it, I kept myself too busy to think.
But thanks to Diane Dempson and her expensive psychology degree hanging on the wall behind her, I was still a sex addict with sick and twisted desires. I was just one who didn’t act on his urges anymore. I hadn’t in six months, and while you would think I would be going fucking out of my mind, dying to stick my dick in the nearest wet hole, I was doing well.
Not great, but I was dealing.
“No issues,” I answered. “And it wasn’t a vacation. It was a business trip.”
I wouldn’t call a meeting with business partners in New York a vacation. It was still work. It was just working in a different city.
“There was no mixing business and pleasure on this trip?”
“None.”
“And what about masturbation? Are we still holding out there, as well?”
I nodded, not feeling even a shred of embarrassment. “Yes. Cold turkey is the only way.”
She scribbled in her notebook. “We’ve talked about this before. Masturbation is healthy, Zander. Don’t torture yourself any more than you need to.”
I nodded, understanding her words, but knew deep in my core the only way I would remain clean was to keep my hands off my dick.
I hadn’t been to a session with Dr. Dempson in two months. With everything I had going on at Empire Sevens, the casino and resort I was part owner of, I hadn’t had time. Thankfully, I didn’t feel like I needed a meeting, but one of Dr. Dempson’s rules was if you wanted to remain a patient of hers, you had to show your face at least once every three months.
I never followed anyone’s rules, but I trusted her, so I went along with what she required of me.
So instead of getting off the plane and going straight home to my penthouse suite at Empire Sevens and doing something like relaxing, I took a car to visit my shrink and then shopped for new real estate since Kade and I were considering opening another casino on the opposite side of The Strip.
I had been away from Empire Sevens for over a week, and already, the urge to jump back into work was beating against my back. It was my way of staying in control. If I was working, I wasn’t thinking about how badly I wanted to sink my cock into one of our patrons.
I wasn’t thinking about her and her dead eyes.
Some people used prescription meds and alcohol.
Some people used illegal drugs or cooked cleaning supplies.
I used work.
It was the healthier alternative.
And when I wasn’t working on the business, I was working on my body. I had a gym put in my penthouse six months ago; another thing that contributed to my healing process.
Sex addiction was no fucking joke, and I would do whatever it took to keep myself straight.
As the sun moved behind the buildings on the Vegas Strip, I had the driver take me home. I welcomed the sight of Empire Sevens, knowing my bed was on the top floor awaiting me. Also, I was excited to get back to work in the morning.
Technically, Kade and I didn’t need to work anymore. Things ran themselves, and anything that didn’t run itself was handled by our operations manager, Kennedy. That still didn’t keep me from watching our patrons toss their money on the tables and into the machines on the casino floor.
Nine years earlier, I had been penniless and starving on the streets of Vegas with a little sister to take care of. She was the reason I turned to the dark side. I would do anything for my sister. So when she was caught stealing bananas from the grocery store, I decided it was time I stepped up and took care of business.
I gave in and began doing what I was best at.
Crime.
Corruption.
I started working for some of the dirtiest bastards in the city until one day I looked around and I was the one everyone feared. I was the one running things. The men I once worked for now worked for me, and I did what needed to be done to climb to the top.
Taking care of business.
Making money.
The things I did for money would sicken other people, but thankfully, I had a good head on my shoulders, and instead of staying in that life of crime and corruption, I contributed to a future where I would no longer have to answer to anyone ever again.
Everything I made on the streets doing the dirty deeds that most couldn’t stomach went back into my future. Running the tables with my knowledge of the games and doubling my money every day, I gambled until finally, I was living the penthouse life and owned a casino of my own.
It was dirty, but it got the job done.
Word on the street was that people still feared me, my name still whispered in the back alleys and underground gangs, and that was exactly how I preferred it.
Fear me.
Respect me.
The lobby was teeming with people, the night picking up as the sun settled and the moon rose. A group of troublemaking drunks stumbled toward the blackjack tables, and I nodded at Jerome, the security member closest to me, directing his attention toward the group. I had a feeling he would be clearing them out within the hour.
He nodded back, letting me know he understood, and discreetly spoke into his wrist, warning the others to be on guard. Kade and I ran a tight ship. Bullshit wasn’t tolerated, and I could sense the assholes a mile away.
I turned toward the elevator and waved my access card before pressing the button for the top floor. The green glass side of the elevator allowed me to look down over the casinos and bars as I rode it to the penthouse floor. The doors opened to Kade’s and my own personal lobby space, which was a sizeable masculine space between our two top-floor penthouse condos.
Dark leather furniture filled the space, looking out at a wall of windows framing the Vegas skyline. I moved through the lobby to my door, and I waved my access card to unlock my door.
Pushing the heavy door open, I was welcomed by the dark comfort of my home. Not wasting any time once I entered my place, I went into my massive master bathroom, stripped naked, and took the coldest shower I could stand, washing away the grime of my travels and shocking my primed body with a blast of cold.
When my hard cock softened, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure how long I could continue this way, starving my body of the things it desired, but I feared the moment I folded and had to start my time over again.
By the time I climbed into my king-size bed, the city outside the wall of windows was ablaze with the lights. Resting my arms behind my head, I gazed out at the night around me until finally, sleep swept me away, and I was able to find real relief in my dreams.