would break down, and I would fuck her into a stupor. Then she would look back and see what? The best fuck of her life? An empty moment of weakness? I shook my head as the elevator stopped. Fuck this introspection shit . I opened the door to the suite and gestured for her to go ahead of me.
“Dinner is at eight,” I said as I took off my tie and began unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes widened, and it didn’t escape my notice when she nervously licked her upper lip. “I’m going for a run. Then I’ll be in the gym.”
She stood frozen as I stripped off my shirt. The moment my hand dropped to my pants, she bolted for the bathroom. A few minutes later, I left the suite feeling like a goddamned hard-up teenager. I needed to burn off some of this energy.
Logic dictated that I should have been rethinking this entire arrangement and having Irving run a background check on the first stripper who came into view. But if I was anything at all, I was a stubborn son of a bitch.
Perhaps if I’d had a fully functioning conscience, I would have backed off by now, but morally compromised was pretty much a perpetual state of being, which made me more like my father than I wanted to admit. It was only my general disgust for him that kept me from truly becoming someone I couldn’t face in the mirror.
Cass Flynn had said it herself: I wasn’t coercing her; I was simply waiting for her to give in.
In reading the lives of great men, I found that the first victory they won was over themselves ... self-discipline with all of them came first. Harry S. Truman said that.
Victory belongs to the most persevering. Napoleon.
If anything, I was unrelenting.
I started jogging at the Ferry Building and then ran along the Embarcadero, pushing hard until my lungs were on fire. Good enough. I jogged back, and when I reached the lobby, the woman behind the desk—blonde, five-nine—smiled at me. I recognized the look, but that was definitely a breach of rule number five: never mix business with pleasure . If I indulged in the habit of fucking the staff at a hotel I frequented on a regular basis, it would complicate things.
Strip clubs were another matter entirely. In hooking up with a stripper, there was an understanding. No desperate “ Call me! ” the morning after. No needy “ When will I see you again? ” as my pants were being zipped. If I were to fuck a front desk staff member? It would come with the expectation for more, which was something I didn’t want or need.
Cass didn’t fit into either category. She was, in point of fact, the exact opposite of any woman I had pursued. Innocent, but not naïve. Strong-willed, but shy. Sharp-tongued, but easily shocked.
I smiled blandly at the woman as I made my way to the elevator. The workout facility was modest, but empty. I didn’t need most of the equipment, though a pull-up bar would have been nice. Push-ups. Rows. Deadlifts. More push-ups to keep myself from thinking of how long it had been since I had enjoyed a good fuck.
When I got back to the suite, I opened the door, pulled off my shirt, and crossed the room just in time to see Cass holding up a black corset in front of the full-length mirror in the second bedroom. She was clad only in a pair of lacy black boy shorts that left a delicious portion of her ass visible. Unaware of my entrance, she was studying the corset with a look of consternation, bordering on anger.
“Need help with that?”
She spun around, clutching the black fabric to her chest. I smiled and gestured to her chest. She looked down at the garment in her grip.
“Weren’t these things torture devices in the sixteenth century?”
Hot as hell, though , I thought.
“I’m going to clean up. Then I’ll give you a hand. Unless you’d like to join me?”
She shook her head and scowled at me. A cold shower, then. When I reached the bathroom, I turned on the shower to scalding and discarded the remainder of my clothing. Then I stepped under the water and jacked
“Dinner is at eight,” I said as I took off my tie and began unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes widened, and it didn’t escape my notice when she nervously licked her upper lip. “I’m going for a run. Then I’ll be in the gym.”
She stood frozen as I stripped off my shirt. The moment my hand dropped to my pants, she bolted for the bathroom. A few minutes later, I left the suite feeling like a goddamned hard-up teenager. I needed to burn off some of this energy.
Logic dictated that I should have been rethinking this entire arrangement and having Irving run a background check on the first stripper who came into view. But if I was anything at all, I was a stubborn son of a bitch.
Perhaps if I’d had a fully functioning conscience, I would have backed off by now, but morally compromised was pretty much a perpetual state of being, which made me more like my father than I wanted to admit. It was only my general disgust for him that kept me from truly becoming someone I couldn’t face in the mirror.
Cass Flynn had said it herself: I wasn’t coercing her; I was simply waiting for her to give in.
In reading the lives of great men, I found that the first victory they won was over themselves ... self-discipline with all of them came first. Harry S. Truman said that.
Victory belongs to the most persevering. Napoleon.
If anything, I was unrelenting.
I started jogging at the Ferry Building and then ran along the Embarcadero, pushing hard until my lungs were on fire. Good enough. I jogged back, and when I reached the lobby, the woman behind the desk—blonde, five-nine—smiled at me. I recognized the look, but that was definitely a breach of rule number five: never mix business with pleasure . If I indulged in the habit of fucking the staff at a hotel I frequented on a regular basis, it would complicate things.
Strip clubs were another matter entirely. In hooking up with a stripper, there was an understanding. No desperate “ Call me! ” the morning after. No needy “ When will I see you again? ” as my pants were being zipped. If I were to fuck a front desk staff member? It would come with the expectation for more, which was something I didn’t want or need.
Cass didn’t fit into either category. She was, in point of fact, the exact opposite of any woman I had pursued. Innocent, but not naïve. Strong-willed, but shy. Sharp-tongued, but easily shocked.
I smiled blandly at the woman as I made my way to the elevator. The workout facility was modest, but empty. I didn’t need most of the equipment, though a pull-up bar would have been nice. Push-ups. Rows. Deadlifts. More push-ups to keep myself from thinking of how long it had been since I had enjoyed a good fuck.
When I got back to the suite, I opened the door, pulled off my shirt, and crossed the room just in time to see Cass holding up a black corset in front of the full-length mirror in the second bedroom. She was clad only in a pair of lacy black boy shorts that left a delicious portion of her ass visible. Unaware of my entrance, she was studying the corset with a look of consternation, bordering on anger.
“Need help with that?”
She spun around, clutching the black fabric to her chest. I smiled and gestured to her chest. She looked down at the garment in her grip.
“Weren’t these things torture devices in the sixteenth century?”
Hot as hell, though , I thought.
“I’m going to clean up. Then I’ll give you a hand. Unless you’d like to join me?”
She shook her head and scowled at me. A cold shower, then. When I reached the bathroom, I turned on the shower to scalding and discarded the remainder of my clothing. Then I stepped under the water and jacked
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