After I’m showered and dressed, I apply some light makeup and make my way out of our bedroom. I stop when I hear voices, trying to listen to what they’re talking about.
“Come on, Zeke,” I hear from Cora’s mouth.
She’s a whore, always trying to fuck Zeke.
“Remove your hands,” his voice is stern. I smile and walk around the corner. Her eyes shoot to mine, and she drops her hands smirking at me. Zeke doesn’t say a word as he walks past her to head into his office.
I live here with Zeke, his house is beautiful. It consists of three bedrooms and a beautiful outdoor area with a patio and pool. It overlooks the ocean and it’s breathtaking. I walk to the kitchen not even bothering to give Cora the time of day, but she smiles at me. I don’t return it. She must think I’m completely blonde. I know she wants Zeke. Fuck, most women do. I see it all the time. He never gives them the time of day though, and that always makes me smile.
I pour Zeke and myself a cup of coffee and once it’s ready, I take it into his office. Because today is Friday, he usually doesn’t work all day, though today looks different. As soon as I step in, my eyes find him sitting at his desk clicking madly on the mouse at the computer. His eyes shoot to mine when I close the door behind me. They roam up and down and then without a second glance, he goes straight back to what he was doing on the computer. I walk so I'm standing next to him and place his coffee on the table.
“I’m going out,” I say, wanting some kind of reaction. Possibly telling me to stay with him as my hopes are high. When he answers, his eyes don’t look to me.
“Good, I have plans,” he says, dismissing me. I look to him one more time before I head out. I wonder if I should just leave, and if I left for long would he even notice? I highly doubt it.
As I walk from the office, I see Cora sitting at her desk in front of his office. She’s his receptionist. She looks up at me and once again I don’t acknowledge her. I’ve heard her sly remarks about me several times before. She’s someone I never want to get to know on a deeper level. As I move away from his office, which is also linked to the front entry so his clients won’t wander through the house, I make my way to the kitchen to grab my purse from the bench deciding I’m going shopping. I need to clear my head.
I meet Ember at the local shopping center and she smiles when she sees me, embracing me in a hug and pulls back to look at me. Ember is beautiful, her mother is Pilipino and her father is American. She has long, dark, straight hair and a perfect figure. Me, well, my hair is blonde and cut short in a bob that shapes around my face.
“What’s wrong, babe? That man of yours didn’t fulfill his duties this morning?” she asks with a wink, dragging me along as she starts to walk to the closest shops. She doesn’t wait for me to answer as she starts throwing dresses at me. She’s gifted when it comes to clothes. I guess that’s also a part of her job, though. She dresses the stars; picks their clothes for the important occasions. Obviously not all, though the list she dresses is quite impressive. And I must admit, sometimes has me jealous.
“I’ve decided, that we’re going out tonight. I need a drink and possibly a fuck,” she says emphasizing it by thrusting her hips. She’s so different, and I love her for that. She doesn’t know much about Zeke. She knows him and what he wants to show the world which, of course, isn’t much.
“Where are we going?” I ask carrying the dresses to the dressing room. She smiles at me. “Who the fuck cares!” And that’s the end of that.
As I pull the dress up, there’s one that’s a lovely violet color and it brings back memories of when I first met Zeke. Why didn’t I say no?
Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.
~John Lennon~
I’m a bad man, a dangerous man. I know this, and most who know me know this. I’m a private man as well; I try to keep my life confidential. Though it’s hard with a pixie floating around in my life. Bexley is beautiful, there’s no denying it, it’s one of the reasons I picked her. I knew I could fuck her day in and day out and not get sick of seeing her face. She’s most men’s wet dream, I know this ‘cause she was mine. Then I had her, and my wet dream became a reality.
The day before I met her, I’d just fucked a whore. Yes, a fucking whore. Not the ones you have to pay for, just someone that spreads their legs hoping to get into your back pocket. My father used to say there were three different types of women in the world. The shy girls, who lay still in the sack and just let you fuck them. Then there are the average girls, who aren’t quiet, but aren’t loud either. Then there are the whores, the loud ones that think they know what they want, and should get what they want. My father told me to always try for a girl who’s above average, that way I could have a whore in bed and a maintained girl on the outside.
I think Bexley is that girl. She’s good, maybe too good for me, but I’m a selfish bastard and don’t want to let her go. I don’t need her, but a part of me wants her. I think she loves me, actually I’ve heard her say it when we’re asleep, even out loud. I don’t deserve her, I know it. But I won’t let her escape, she fills all my needs and I don’t have to go to anyone else. No one screams for me like she does; no one claws at my ass like she does.
She isn’t nosey either and she knows not to ask questions about my work. Or ask when I’ll be home. She’s just there when I need her, needing her body. She’s every guy's dream.
I watch as she walks from my office with a sway in her hips. I try to contain myself and not get up and bend her over my desk taking her from behind. I want to, but I can’t. I have a meeting soon, one that can’t be interrupted. She closes the door on her way out, not looking back. She’s trained well, and I sometimes wonder why she doesn’t question me. Why she is the way she is, but I never ask. I prefer to be blind to it all and stay in my bubble where she’s concerned. It’s easier that way.
A knock sounds on my door and Cora pops her head in. “Dunker is here,” she says. I nod my head and watch as the Vice President of the HHard Knox MC walks in. He’s a massive man, about the same size as me, except he’s covered in ink from head to toe. I don’t think there’s a part of him that the end of a needle hasn’t met. His hair is cut short, and you can just make out that it’s been dyed blond. He nods his head and sits in the chair in front of my desk and kicks his boots up on to it. I like Dunker; he is a businessman, one that doesn’t fuck me around.
“Remove your boots, Dunk,” I tell him facing the computer screen. He does so and huffs then runs his hands through his buzz cut. I look up to him letting him know he can talk and he does.
“I need my next shipment early, Zeke,” he says in a stern voice.
“I told you, it would be ready in two weeks,” I reply, getting angry because he expects it sooner.
“I know, but it’s in demand. And it’s in high demand,” he huffs out at me.
“Tell your people to fucking wait. When I give you a date, it stays that date. I don’t change it for no one.”
“Fuck,” he says grabbing his chin pulling at his small beard, which is also blond.
“I don’t fuck around, Dunk, I give you a date and I always deliver. Don’t piss me off, you won’t like it,” I tell him sitting back in my chair picking up the now stone-cold coffee Bexley brought in earlier.
“You mean like one of the men that tried to sell under your nose and then you killed him?” he asks, laughing while sitting back in his chair.