That does it for me. I don’t even tell her I’m about to come, I just explode before I have the time to think about it. I groan into the phone, but I don’t think she hears me; she’s moaning loudly, almost screaming as if I was actually there, my cock buried inside of her pussy. I sit there, grabbing my cock while thick ropes of cum gush out of it, the sound of her orgasm numbing my mind. This might be fucking insane, but it doesn’t make it any less good, let me tell you that. Sure, the real thing is way better… But this beats just using my imagination, there’s no question about that. And, of course, I’m pretty sure of who she’s going to turn to after King Henry has left her in a wet mess: good ol’ Arsen Hawke.
“I… I just couldn’t help myself, sir,” she says, her voice a quivering mess. “I had to come. I just had to.”
“I know, Kitten. It’s alright, but next time, remember: you’ll only come when I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir. I promise.”
“Good,” I continue, leaning back against my couch as I close my eyes and take a deep breath, endorphins still raging through me like a fucking hurricane. “Are you this obedient with everyone?”
“No… Not at all, sir,” she says, sounding genuine but still breathing hard.
“Not with anyone?” I hear some slight hesitation, so I press harder. “Tell me.”
“Just… Just one man,” she finally confesses, her voice wavering almost as if she’s afraid her response will earn her a scolding.
“That… friend of yours you told me about?” I ask her, suddenly feeling morbidly curious about what she’s going to tell this Henry character of my relationship with her. Is she going to lie?
“Yes… Yes, he’s the one.”
“And does he make you come, Kitten? Does he fuck you like you want me to fuck you?” I ask, feeling slightly anxious as I wait for her response. Christ, what the fuck am I doing?
“Yes, sir… He does. He does fuck me like that.”
“Good… A girl like you needs a good fucking. Tell me, when was the last time he fucked you? Tell me about it.”
“Last night,” she replies, her voice now more steady. “We fucked outside, in a tiny alley near Freedom Tower. I came three times,” she continues, and I can almost hear the anxiety in her words as she waits for my response.
“Now, a nice girl like you fucking in a public place? I like that wild side of yours, Kitten, I really do. And what better place to unleash that wild side but there? The place has gotten a lot nicer without so much construction.”
There’s a long silence on the other side of the line, almost as if I had said something indecent. I almost ask her if she’s still there when she starts to speak again.
“I’m glad, sir. I don’t want to displease you,” she tells me, and I can feel her honesty. She really wants to please Henry. Holy fuck, is this situation getting out of control?
“And what about your friend? Do you want to please him as well?” I continue, unable to stop.
“I… I’m sorry, sir, I really got to go,” she says, cutting the conversation short.
“We’ll talk again. Soon,” I promise her, and I can almost see the smile on her face.
“I hope so, sir,” she tells me before hanging up. When I take the phone out of my ear, there’s already a text message from Ashley flashing on the screen.
“I’m coming over,” it says.
Of course.
51
Ashley
Here I am again, riding the elevator to Arsen’s apartment once more. Why do all my phone calls with King Henry end up like this? I can’t help but text Arsen, anxious to have someone quench my thirst for a real man. Arsen and Henry… These two really are tying my mind into knots.
With Arsen, everything’s perfect—from the way he treats me to the way he fucks me, there’s nothing that I can point at. So why am I not surrendering to him like I damn know I should? He’s the perfect man, for God’s sake—hot, wealthier than God, and totally into me! First, I resisted his advances because I knew he was not only a smut lord’s heir, but my boss… But that’s not the real reason behind my reluctance toward taking the final step, the step into his arms. No, on that point I can only lay the blame at King Henry's feet, Client 5.
I know, I know… You probably think that I’m being silly. Torn between two men when I haven’t even met one of them. I never saw his face, and I don’t know a damn thing about him—and still, there’s something about the way he speaks to me that draws me in, almost as if he’s pulling me into a deep trance from which there’s no escape. I swear to God, just knowing that he’s going to call me is enough to make me wet. And every single minute that I spend talking with him on the phone… Sweet Jesus, I should be the one paying, not him. All of our conversations end with me soaking wet, trying to recover from another mind numbing orgasm his words have unleashed upon me. I know it sounds crazy, but what do you want me to tell you? It’s the truth. And that’s the reason I’m here now, at One57 because there’s only one man capable of turning into reality the fantasies King Henry whispers into my ear. And that man is, drumroll, Arsen Hawke. I know, no surprise there.