“Shut up and let me finish. I won’t repeat myself. If you don’t back away from contesting the will, everything about your life will be exposed. Everything.” The man waved his hand and looked away as if he had nothing to be ashamed of. Leaning down into the man’s face, Sawyer gritted his teeth and hissed acidly, “Let me rephrase, Mr. Christopherson: everything about your other life; the one where you snort coke on a regular basis and free-base with hookers; the one where you deal in cash under the table, avoiding your financial and legal responsibilities as a US Citizen; the one that your wife, adult children and the law would be less than forgiving of. Am I making myself perfectly clear? I hope so because I’m a man who keeps my word in all things and when I say that I will fuck your life up so badly a gun to your head will sound better, take heed the warning.”
The man’s breath hitched and his face paled under the fluorescent lighting. His portentous stare turned into something pathetic, and his shoulders slumped when he realized the seriousness of Sawyer’s threat.
“One hour is the time frame you have to get it done, starting…” he glanced at his watch, “Now. Drop what you’re doing, make the call and End. Your. Involvement,” he ground out with finality.
Jameson sat frozen, causing Sawyer to lunge abruptly at him, grabbing his lapels and forcing him against the wall.
“Speak!” he barked.
“Y… yes,” Jameson stuttered.
“That’s yes, Sir.”
“How did the meeting go?” Dylan asked impatiently.
“As well as can expected. Have you received any news yet?”
Dylan sighed, the agitation in his voice spilling over. “No.”
“Well, give it a few minutes. Jameson still has sixteen minutes left until I deliver these files to the intended recipients.”
“Wait… there’s an incoming call…”
Waiting, Sawyer flipped through the files nonchalantly, his mind wandering back to Ciara. And Sarah. Had he misread her feelings toward him? No, he doubted that. He was adept at reading body language. And the feelings evoked by the kiss they shared were undeniable. It was magical. Sawyer rolled his eyes at the cheesy thought.
Dylan clicked back over. “Well done in thoroughly scaring the shit out of Jameson. He’s backed off and no blood was shed in the process. I’m proud of you, Morrison.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes, “Let me just say it was a difficult task for me not to kill that SOB.”
Task. The word reminded him of his upcoming homework assignment.
After his flight back to Denver, Sawyer decided to take an early day and go over not only Ciara’s hard limits, but the temporary contract between he and Sarah. Sarah had done a thorough job with the contract and he only needed to fill in the blanks where necessary.
Making himself a snack, he settled in to finally look over the hard limits which were not listed out, but written in. Kerian had stated to choose one, but coincidentally there was only one hard limit to choose from.
“I’m deeply afraid of being unable to breathe . My last boyfriend was a mean drunk. He knew I was mildly asthmatic and would hold me down and try to strangle me as some sort of cruel joke. The idea of a hand near my throat or any sort of breath play is an unbreakable hard limit for me.”
Sawyer’s heart sank and his stomach cramped at the thought of breath play. He had read about it briefly and knew that it carried serious risks, including death. It was ironic how just hours before he was considering violently murdering someone, yet again, but doing something like sexual asphyxiation under a controlled setting was completely out of the question.
He picked up his phone and dialed Dylan and who had no sooner answered when Sawyer started talking.
“Do you have experience with breath play?”
“Yes, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seriously done it, years actually; before Isa. Why? You interested in that?”
“No, but I’ve been asked to push Ciara’s hard limits. Damn Kerian,” he said in a dull and troubled voice.
“That’s a tough one. Well, I can speak with Isa and see if she’s up for a demonstration. We’ve only played around with it very mildly, but for you, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Thanks, Young. I hate to ask…”
“Why? You know you can ask for anything. It’s good for us to venture out into new things, too, so this is a good chance for us as well. I’ll call her right now. When did you want start practicing?”
“I have to scene with Ciara this weekend so as soon as possible. I have a dinner date with Sarah tonight but how about tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you at work tomorrow and we can go over things.”
Right after his conversation he texted Sarah and sent the company driver to pick her up while he made his condo presentable for female company. Just as he was unloading the dishwasher, she arrived. Opening the door, he was flooded with the same feelings he had felt the night he kissed her. He had missed her eyes. Inhaling deeply, he savored her scent. He had missed that, too.
“Snowflake,” he whispered seductively, his cock hardening to nearly full-staff. What was it about her that evoked such intense emotions? He had no idea and he didn’t care either. Clutching her upper arm, he pulled her into the doorway and wrapped a hand behind her neck, bringing her so close he could feel her breath on his mouth.
“Mr. Morrison,” Sarah stated softly, her brows knitting together.
“What happened to Sir?”
“Okay. Sir. I have everything I need to make you dinner right here,” she looked down at the bags in her hands. “I hope you like seafood alfredo. It’s one my specialties,” she moved past him, pulling out of his grip.
Inside, she laughed a little. “Actually, it’s my only specialty. I wish I made it more often but seafood can be pricey as you know.”
“I hope this didn’t set you back too much. In fact, let me reimburse you the cost,” Sawyer replied.
Sarah’s eyes flashed embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to suggest I wanted you to pay me back. I’ve been working plenty of overtime and I can afford this.”
“Of course. Thank you, Snowflake,” he quickly let the subject go, but made a mental note to never assume such things again. Sarah worked hard and he didn’t want her spending her money on him. “Do you need my help with anything?”
Sarah visibly relaxed and began to set everything out. “No. Just point me in the direction of your cookware and I’ll get everything ready.”
After putting on some music, he settled into his oversized leather chair, turning it to face the small kitchen so he could watch Sarah at work. On occasion, she would glance up at him and smile. He was deep in thought about his upcoming scene with Ciara when she chimed in.
“That chair fits you, Domly One. It’s like a king’s throne,” she giggled.
“Yes, I guess it sort of is. Why don’t you hurry up and come join me. There’s enough room in this thing for two,” he grinned waywardly.
“The King’s throne isn’t meant to be shared,” she commented without any emotion. “And neither is the King. Not that you care,” she stated more softly, turning away to wash her hands.
Sawyer stood and walked over to Sarah quietly, taking her by surprise when he whirled her body around. “Would you care to elaborate on that last statement?”
Sarah brusquely pulled out of his clutches and pushed past him, “No, I wouldn’t. Take it however you want.”