Chapter 49 – Pleasing the Boss

“I will.” I totally intend to, and in fact, long after she’s left to find her seat in the theater, I’m planning what positions I’ll f**k her in when I glance up at the staircase that leads to the main doors and realize that Greta is not the cure I’m looking for. Realize that she’ll never be. No one can substitute for the dazzling woman standing on the top step, glaring down at me.

f**k, mad and late as all get out, Brystin Shaw is still the most magnificent creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s perfect, her blonde hair left simple and straight, her makeup natural with a peach l*p that I know will look amazing smeared on my dick. Even the scowl on her face doesn’t take away from her stunning beauty.

How the hell could her husband ever take his eyes from her?

Personally, I can’t move my gaze as she walks gallantly down the steps in her three-inch heels. I know the exact height since I’m the one who sent the shoes, along with the black velvet, floral embroidered gown from Altuzarra and the pink Prada shrug draped over one shoulder. As I’d intended, she is completely on brand, presenting both elegance and allure along with a side of bombshell. I’d been uncertain whether or not she’d go along with my outfit request, after the pushback she gave me last time. I’m idiotically smug knowing that she did.

If she donned the clothes I sent, did she follow the rest of my instructions?

The question is easily answered by a p**ss of the remote control hidden in my left pocket. Her exp**ssion doesn’t falter. Her body doesn’t flinch.

Goddammit, I knew she was going to be trouble.

I meet her at the bottom of the stairs, hooking my arm around hers so that I can easily steer her toward the gender-neutral bathrooms. “You’re late.”

“You’re lucky I came at all.” She’s pouting, but that didn’t stop goosebumps from sprouting along her delicate skin as soon as I touched her.

It does something to me to know that I affect her, despite how she feels about me. I’m a man who has known I was powerful my entire life, and yet I’ve never felt the impact of that privilege until wielding it over Brystin Shaw.

I swear, I’m half hard, and tonight’s games haven’t even begun.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks when she realizes we aren’t headed toward the theater. “Isn’t the opera about to start?”

“Already started,” I confirm. “We should be sitting in our box right now, but first we have to deal with your disobedience.”

She tenses in my grasp, but doesn’t try to fight me as I push open the bathroom door. With one hand fl*pping the lock, I use my hip to pin her against the wall and my other hand to gather her dress up around her waist.

My c**k jumps at the sight. “Well, at least you followed instructions about no pa**ies.”

“I didn’t want panty lines,” she says, but the dress isn’t that tight.

“Right. Of course.” I run my fi**gers down the skin above her folds, feeling a light strip of stubble. Either she hasn’t gotten around to removing the hair after yesterday’s argument, or she’s not really as upset with me as she’s pretending to be.

But she was upset enough to ignore the other request I’d made when I’d had the outfit delivered. I confirm the fact when my fi**gers find their way into her quite w*t p**sy. “There’s nothing here, Brystin.”

“I wasn’t going to wear your f**king toy thing. I’m here to promote the show. Not to be your entertainment.”

“You’re here for both.” I reach into my right pocket and pull out a flexible silicone vibrator, identical to the one she’s supposed to be wearing. “Fortunately, I didn’t have faith in your ability to follow directions, so I brought a spare.”

“I am not wearing that.” But she spreads her legs further apart and lets out a small m**n when I p**ss one end of the toy inside her p**sy.

I adjust the other end so it will p**ss against her c**t. Then I bring my w*t fi**gers to my mouth and simultaneously hit the b**ton on the remote. Her body shudders as the vibrator massages her tight bundle of nerves, and her eyes darken as she watches with rapt attention as I l**k my fi**gers clean. “I knew you’d taste like honey. And with the remote in my hands, I expect there will be plenty more of the sweet stuff to come. Pun intended.”

I don’t know if she wants to k**s me or murder me. Either way, I love the spark of passion in her focused stare.

She pushes me, but not with enough strength to actually move me. “You’re depraved.”

“Not any more depraved than you, my honeybee.” I turn the remote off and toss the duplicate in the trash so I don’t mix the two up. Then I step back of my own accord, giving her room to adjust her dress. “Oh, and you’ll want to be careful not to come too hard. It would be quite an impact on your brand if your p**sy dropped that toy out during our red carpet interview after the show.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” I push out of the bathroom without giving her a chance to respond. While what happens remains to be seen, I do intend to treat her well tonight.

I wonder how often Elvis Endlich can say the same.

Brystin is right—I am an asshole.

The annual opera night at Irving Seymour Concert Hall is an event meant to bring in high price donors for the right to free p**ss. Growing up, the date was always circled on the nanny’s calendar, and my father expected us to show up clean and respectable because “free p**ss is our bread and b**ter” and this one night every year that the “Seymours make a clear stand for democracy.”

I’m not sure it’s true that this is the only night we make a stand, but the point is this event is sacrosanct.

And I spent the entire two hours of Madame b**terfly’s performance playing Take Her to the Edge with Brystin Shaw and the Lelo toy I put inside her. It’s my new favorite game. She was legitimately weeping during the death scene, and I’m fairly certain she had no idea what was going on.

Now we’re making our way to the red carpet for photos and interviews, and of course I’ve been stopped a thousand times. I have to hide my smirk every time someone casually asks her if she enjoyed the show. She’s a practiced journalist and can keep a straight face, but her décolletage turns a beautiful shade of raspberry—the same shade she turns when she gets close to orgasm—and all sorts of dirty thoughts fill my head. Mostly thoughts about how pretty the shade of cream cum would look added to the palette.

“Stop enjoying this,” she hisses after we untangle ourselves from the latest encounter.

“Not a chance.” I spy my assistant waiting for us at the p**ss line, and I direct Brystin toward him, sliding my hand against her upper back rather than her lower so I can feel the soft warmth of her skin.

She starts when I first make contact, but relaxes into my touch quickly.

I’m sure she doesn’t realize she does this consciously. Her body already recognizes me as friend even if her mind doesn’t, and I don’t envy the conflict it must stir in her.

Not that I know anything about that kind of battle.

“Good evening, Ms. Shaw.” André greets us when we’re at his side. To me he gives instruction. “I have you queued for next. Remember to mention your father and the other members of the family. Make every intention to sound like the official spokesman of the night. Hunter has yet to go through the line, and we both know he’ll try to take that honor for himself.”

I roll my eyes at the reminders. It’s his job, and he’s good at it, but I hate being told what to do, even if I told him to tell me.

I’m also wary about Hunter’s presence. I’d prefer he spoke to the p**ss ahead of me so that I can massage any disparaging remark he makes. “Any chance I can put my walk off a little longer?”

He looks at his watch. “It’s getting late as it is. Reporters are getting antsy.”

“You need to get ahead of it.” Brystin speaks up, as though she’s been invited into the conversation.

I stare at her for a moment, wanting to tell her to b**t out, but looking at her I recognize two things—she’s honestly trying to help, and she’s right.

André’s silence means he agrees.

“Then let’s get in there.”

He turns to the reporters closest to the front of the line, telling them to wr*p up the interview they’re currently conducting with the show’s director and the man who plays Pinkerton.

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