Chapter 1
For normal people, four am comes too early, comes too soon. But…for a man living in the shadows of demons that are his reality, it’s just a normal day. The nightmares that come when he closes his eyes hold him hostage, choke him until he is gasping for air.
I am a man who is looked up to, envied, wanted even though no one knows the real me. If they knew, they would be terrified, because a man like me becomes a monster that is caged until light turns to dark, and then the beast is set free. No longer looked up to, envied, wanted… He is a monster that is feared, dangerous, and anonymous. He is deadly.
My destination comes into view as I run through Central Park. I take the same path every morning from my building to the fountain. I stop to take a few deep breaths and stretch my legs before taking the hour run back to my penthouse.
Setting the same pace, I run back the way I came, but this time memories flood in. My pace picks up as I remember the past, and I race against myself, trying to stop the invasion.
We walk faster.
So do they.
We run.
They chase us.
“Run, Jamie!”
“Hello, Mr. Kincaid,” the doorman at my building greets, pulling me back to the present.
I reply with a nod, “Hello, Henry.” He holds the door open for me to walk through.
I swipe my private keycard; the elevator doors open and I step through. When they open back up, I enter my penthouse suite. Going up the iron staircase, I head to the master bedroom. Picking out one of my Armani suits, I head for the shower.
My hands lie flat against the stone wall and my head hangs as the hot water runs over my naked body, relaxing my tension. Reaching for my body wash, I lather myself with the soap and try to wash away my sins, but it never works. They’re always there, hidden in the darkness. After thoroughly rinsing and shampooing my hair, I turn the water off and step out.
I dry off with my towel, wipe the steam from the mirror, and tie the towel around my waist. Staring at my reflection, I see the darkness gazing back at me. I look at the ink that covers my arms, hands, chest, and neck. Each dig of the needle told a story; my story. My hands grip the counter until my knuckles are ghostly white; my head tilts from one side to the other. A deep sigh escapes my lips, and I look at my Rolex; time to get ready for work.
“Morning, Jameson,” Penny, my housekeeper, addresses me as I walk into the kitchen. “I have a spinach egg-white omelet and your coffee ready.” When I was the tender age of ten, Penny was hired to be my nanny until I was old enough to not need one anymore. My aunt and uncle kept her on as an employee, but when I bought the building my penthouse is in I offered her higher pay. She didn’t think twice about coming with me to be my housekeeper.
“Thank you.” I sit down on the stool at my kitchen island, where Penny has everything placed perfectly in front of me on the black and white marble countertop. Picking up the newspaper that is sitting right next to my plate, I smile. She already has it turned to the stock page.
I take my time enjoying the delicious breakfast and reading the newspaper until Penny announces that Brent, my driver, is here. Grabbing my briefcase, I follow him into the elevator, down to the parking garage, and to the car, where he opens the backseat door for me.
I hired Brent ten years ago to be my driver and security guard; he’s older than me by fifteen years, but coming from the navy seals, he knows his job and performs it well.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t realize we’ve stopped until Brent says, “We’re here, Boss.” He stares at me in the rearview mirror.
My eyes meet his. “See you at six tonight, Brent.” Opening the door, I step out of the backseat of my Bentley and onto the busy New York sidewalk.
Pushing through one of the revolving glass doors that line the brick building, I walk into the lobby of my company. Big, bold letters front and center read Kincaid Enterprises; pride swells inside of me every time I see that sign and know this is what I took and created.
Receptionists sit along the twelve-foot desk with headsets on, taking calls and typing away on their computers. They greet me as I walk past, and I return their acknowledgements with a nod as I trek to the elevator.
I step onto the twenty-first floor. “Good morning, Mr. Kincaid,” the receptionist greets with a smile; with the way her eyes rake over my face and body, I know what she’s thinking. It’s the same as every other female; they want to know what’s under the suit, but they will never find out, and neither will she. I never mix business with pleasure—that’s my number one rule, and I don’t give two fucks who you are, you won’t get close enough to find out the real me. I nod and continue to my office.
My assistant is there waiting. “Good morning, Mr. Kincaid. Your first meeting is with Mr. Kimura in…” She looks at the clock then back to me. “Fifteen minutes. Here are the messages from calls that came in this morning.” She hands me the stack of numbers on little pink slips of paper.
“Thank you, Greta,” I reply, giving her a genuine smile.
Greta has been my assistant for the last five years. I remember the day I hired her; this little woman no more than five feet tall with greying hair, glasses, and more than twenty-five years older than me walked into my office. I thought she was of retirement age, and she thought I was a young kid who didn’t know my ass from my head. I proved her wrong, she gave me her no-bullshit attitude, and I knew at that moment I had to hire her—she has been at my side ever since.
Closing the door behind me, I sit down in my chair and turn on my computer. I go over the inventory and make sure all shipments are being delivered on time. Halfway through the order list, my phone rings; it’s time for my first meeting. The stack of pink messages from Greta will have to wait.
“Good morning, Mr. Kimura.” I sit back in my chair and hope we have a done deal.
“Good morning, Mr. Kincaid.” His Japanese accent is strong. “My company’s vote came out very good for you. Email me the contract and I will sign. We look forward to doing business with Kincaid Enterprises.”
“I’m happy to hear this!” I smile even though he can’t see it. “I’ll get the contracts emailed right away—and we look forward to doing business with you as well. I believe your company has made the right decision.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Goodbye.” I hang up the phone and call Greta into my office.
“Mr. Jameson?” Greta asks when she closes the door behind her.
“We closed the deal.” I smile and laugh lightly.
She joins in with my excitement. “That’s great! What do you need from me?”
“Email Mr. Kimura the contract I made up.” I find the file, email it to Greta, and print off a copy for myself.
“Yes, sir.” She turns and walks out the way she came.
I spend the rest of my day putting other contracts together for merging deals, start returning my messages, make calls to companies that we would like to work with, and I get next week’s meetings setup with Greta so she can put it in the calendar.
After a long day in the office, I drop down in the backseat of the Bentley. I loosen my tie and stare out the window. “I’ll be heading to the Ritz-Carlton tonight,” I inform Brent.
“Got it, Boss.” He drives down the busy streets. I feel the change coming, taking over like a drug I fiend for. The monster inside waiting for dark to come; only then will the beast be unleashed.
Brent parks in his space in the parking garage, where the rest of my cars sit beautifully. Using my keycard, I take the elevator up to my penthouse. Making the call to the hotel with my burner phone, I reserve my usual room then take the stairs to my master. I send a text message to Celeste, giving her the details she will need. Opening the closet, I grab my black bag containing everything I will use tonight—including the keys to my yellow and black custom-built Lamborghini.
Going back the way I came, I enter the parking garage once again. Hitting the key fob, I unlock my car and take the driver’s seat. Pulling out of the garage onto the hectic New York streets, I don’t need to look in my rearview to know Brent is following close behind. Racing through the traffic, I have the Ritz-Carlton in my sights within ten minutes.
Pulling up front at the main entrance, I grab my bag out of the passenger seat, step out, hand my keys off to the valet, and walk inside the luxurious hotel. “Good evening, Mr. Freedman.” The receptionist smiles; her eyes rake over my face. “Here is your keycard for room 1249. Please let us know if there is anything you need. Anything at all.” Her tone is heavy with lust.
“Thank you.” Giving her a half grin, I take the card and graze my fingers across her palm. She shudders at the touch; my smile is full as I walk to the elevator and push the number 12 button.
The room is extravagant, modern with its brown and cream color scheme. The bathroom continues the color scheme with the marble flooring, countertop, walk-in shower, and around the jetted bathtub. I sit my black bag on the counter and start preparing for the arrival of my guest.
Celeste is a high-end escort for Miss Magdalene’s, one of the best services in the state of New York. Since I am familiar with most of the girls and them with me, I have my favorites and go directly through them instead of calling the office. Celeste has been my top favorite for the last year or so. She knows my rules, abides by them most of the time, and loves every fucking second of the pleasure and pain I inflict upon her. She has no hard limits; she’s a dirty little bitch and her holes are greedy for a hard fucking.
That’s just how I like them, but I also like my discretion and each girl knows this. That’s why, before I deal with anyone new, I make them sign a non-disclosure agreement through Magdalene. I need my discretion because of who I am; if this were to get out, my reputation would be ruined. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am just to lose it all over a fuck.
Well...not just a fuck, but an uninhibited, raw, angry fuck.
I grab her black sleeping mask, some condoms, and the rope first, then open the bathroom door and walk over to the bed. I lay the items on top of the cream-colored comforter then return to the bathroom to get ready.
I remove my black dress shoes, socks, the charcoal grey Armani suit, and my white button-down dress shirt. Standing stark naked in front of the mirror, my cock is already at half-mast thinking about what I will be doing to poor Celeste. Grabbing my dark, loose-fitting jeans out of the bag, I put one leg in and then the other. I pull them up and fasten them as they hang low on my hips, showing my well-defined V, along with that happy trail of hair leading down to my above-average cock.
Reaching for my own mask, I slip it on over my head so that it covers everything except my eyes and mouth. Even if Celeste or one of the other girls disobeys me, they still won’t know who I am, but I like the added protection.
I remove the vibrator next and take it out of the bedroom with me.
She should be arriving any minute.
Turning the lights out, I walk over to the windows and close the curtains; complete darkness. I sit in the chair with the vibrator in hand and wait.
The minutes tick by until I hear the click of the door, and then…
“Are you here?” Celeste asks quietly, her voice trembling, project her anxiety outwards.
I don’t say a word as she walks further into the room.
When she’s close enough, I stand, take a few quick strides, and grab her hips, spinning her around. She squeaks like a little mouse; her breathing grows heavy. I edge us closer to the bed, where she feels around, finding her mask, and pulls it over her eyes.
Reaching up, I brush her hair away from her neck, grabbing it with my fist, and yank her head to the side. Leaning in close, I touch the crook of her neck with my lips then ghost my tongue up until I get to her ear, where I lightly blow hot air against her goose pebbled flesh; she shivers, but stays still like a good girl. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as her lips part and a moan escapes.
Releasing her hair, I use my hands to unzip her dress and let it fall to the floor. One foot after the other, she steps out of the puddle of material. I run my hands over her tight ass, giving her cheeks a rough squeeze before moving up to her bra. Unclasping it, I reach under the straps and flex my fingers so they fall down her shoulders. She pulls her arms free and the lace fabric falls, joining her dress.
Her thumbs hook into the thin straps of her thong, and she pushes them down her legs. Once they reach her knees, she bends forward to get them off the rest of the way. My cock hardens as her ass presses up against the denim of my jeans. Gripping her hip with one arm, I keep her bent over, running my finger from her slick folds back to her tight little asshole.
She moans a little louder this time.
I rotate us so that her hands can grip the bed, but she’s still bent halfway over. Positioning my leg between hers, I widen them as far as I can. Turning the vibrator on full speed, I press it against her clit; she jumps from the intensity. Rearing my hand back, I bring it forward so it lands perfectly on her ass cheek; she cries out loudly. She knows better than to move. Celeste freezes, succumbing to the feeling of the vibration.
I lay my hand flat on her back, pushing her upper body down further into the bed, her face smashing against the comforter. Her body quivers, her moans fill the quiet room, and her knees bend as she searches for the release that won’t be coming until I’m ready to let her have it.
Her body gives me the indication she is about to come, so I pull the vibrator away, dropping it onto the bed, not even bothering to turn it off. She mewls in protest, earning herself another hard smack, hard enough to make her body push forward. Placing both of her hands behind her back, I grab the rope and tie her wrists together.
Undoing my jeans, I kick out of them and grab one of the condoms. Rolling the latex down my stiff cock, I position myself and push inside of her hot soaking cunt. I hiss at the feeling of her walls clenching as her pussy sucks me in.
I grab the rope with one hand and her hair with the other as I thrust over and over, roughly and to the hilt. She screams in pain from my size and the rough intrusion, but her ass comes back anyway, matching me pound for pound.
The assault I’m inflicting continues and she once again grows closer to her orgasm with each rough thrust I pound into her body. Letting go of her hair and the rope, I pull out of her pussy. I remove the condom, grab another, and rip the wrapper open with my teeth.
Once sheathed, I reach for the vibrator again and place it back on her hard little nub. With my other hand, I wrap it around her chest and find her nipple, rolling the tight bud between my thumb and finger. I pinch and pull hard enough I know it will leave bruises, but Celeste is crying out for more. So… I give her more.
Applying more pressure to her clit with the vibrator, I move my hand from one tit to the other, pinching and tugging each nipple with as much strength as I have, her body shaking uncontrollably in response. Her screams and cries are loud enough that if we had anyone close in other rooms they would think I was murdering her.
It’s time. She’s so close to coming, and at that exact moment, I ram my cock into her asshole. There is no working her up to it, no slow rhythm; I pump into her tight brown hole so hard she won’t be sitting for a week. All the prolonged gratification and the feel of my cock in her ass, pushing in and out, has given her a rush of intense multiple orgasms. It goes on and on for minutes; just as one stops, another begins.
The heated buildup moves throughout my body; my balls tighten, my legs start tingling, and my cock pulsates as I thrust one last time deep inside her tight little ass. My head rears back. It takes everything inside of me not to roar like the beast I am as the condom fills with my cum. I take a second to control my breathing before I pull out and she falls to the bed.
I remove the condom, gather the other one and my jeans off the floor, and undo the rope before taking her mask off. I lightly touch her shoulder blade and take everything into the bathroom. I dispose of the condoms, remove my mask, and put everything back in my bag then zip it up.
I lay ten 100-dollar bills on the counter, turn off the bathroom light, walk out, and leave the room. Leaving Celeste in her sated glory, I know she’ll find the money when she is able to move, and the room is hers for the night.