Buyer’s Market(197)
“I don’t know who you think are, Liam, but this isn’t the Wild West. You can’t simply flood the city with factories and postpone the consequences. And there are consequences.”
“Oh, I know all about consequences, Carter,” he tells me, using my first name as a provocation. Unconsciously, I feel my hands balling into fists. I’ve always hated spoiled little kids like him. He takes his feet off of the table and leans toward me, his grin fading away as his expression turns into a hard one. “For instance, the consequences to your words are that you’re no longer welcome here.”
I’m not welcome? In my own state? This guy has no idea who he’s talking to. Whether he likes it or not, he will have to bend. In the end, everyone does. I get up from my seat and look him in the eye, the tension in the room increasing.
“Enjoy your little fantasy while it lasts, Liam. Because, in the end, you have no power. No choice.” Leaving my words hanging in the air, I turn on my heels and leave his office.
Five minutes. That was how long it took for us to declare war to each other. I smile inwardly; if he wants war, he’s going to get one.
And I’m going to crush him… With a smile on my lips.
Vivian
I swear, I don’t even need an alarm clock to wake up most mornings. Most of my friends swear that they need a couple of minutes to snooze, or a solid 8 hours of sleep. Not me. A good five hours and I’m good to go. Hell, I could probably do with three. Or less.
Like last night. I think I may have finally passed out after the sex at around 3 am. I look over to the clock.
It’s 6:45 am. I always wake up at 6:45 am. So what is that? Slightly less than four hours. I can live with that. I won’t be draggy and tired all day. Besides, it was worth it. Sex is always worth it, in my opinion. It doesn’t have to always be toe-curling sex. It can be regular sex, or even sometimes bad sex. It depends what you end up doing with it. It’s like a movie. Even if it’s a bad movie, only rarely do you stop watching it. Or reading. Even if it’s a bad book, you usually finish to the end. I mean, sometimes you just DNF, but that’s not this book, is it? Because you only just met me, hun, and let me tell you, I think you’re going to like the ride I get to go on.
Anyways, back to the sex last night. It wasn’t the best. The guy, what’s his name? I forgot.
I look over to my right. He’s sleeping peacefully. Poor baby. He must be worn out. See, his cock was too small for me. I think it was only about four and a half inches. I swear—no lying. I was actually pretty intrigued. I asked him how big his cock was at the bar he picked me up at when I was having a drink after the Senate adjourned for the day, and he had told me it was ‘big enough to make me scream’.
I guess he meant scream in amazement because when I saw it a few hours later in my apartment, while I did feel a bit cheated, I was also really intrigued. Instead of kicking him out, I told him if he put on two condoms (to maybe make his cock bigger?) and gave me head while I read the latest Simone Sowood book on my Kindle he could fuck me afterward.
He was so grateful I wasn’t kicking him out he did exactly what I asked. That’s right. The guy next to me is a lobbyist for some group or another. Mr. Big Bad Lobbyist, thinking he’s going to go run for Congress. Too bad he has a baby dick and that Alpha Male façade just crumbles like nothing else when faced with a real woman. Like you or me—he can’t handle us.
Seriously, babe. I’ve dated a lot of guys. I’m not a slut; I don’t indiscriminately sleep around. I always want to go with the Alpha. I’ve done billionaires, CEOs, actors, Senators, Congressmen, Mafia lords, highlanders, princes, hell—even a guy claiming to be a fucking dragon.
At the end of the day, two things will happen with any of these so called bad boys or Alpha Males. First, I will crush their spirit because they won’t be able to keep up with me. They’ll end up becoming Soccer Dads, with beige shorts driving a minivan. That’s after they trade in their motorcycle and leave their MC. Second, I’ll get bored with them. Because they couldn’t be man enough to handle me.
It’s a curse, hun. I wish I weren’t so confident. But what can I do? I grew up like this. I’m the youngest Senator in the history of this country at 29 years old. I know I look good; I have blonde hair to my shoulders, I stay in shape by working out every day, I know my boobs look okay and my ass is still perky. I’m a hard worker. I graduated at the top of my class from Princeton and never looked back. When my friends were getting married, I was working. When they were going on vacation, I was working. And look at where it got me; I’m now the junior Senator from New York State and chairwoman of the Senate Commerce Committee. I have an apartment in Washington D.C. at the Watergate Hotel and an apartment in New York City on 39th and Park Avenue. I don’t have billions of dollars, but enough paid speeches to Wall Street banks and the NRA have left me with hundreds of millions of dollars. I can survive on that.