so I devoured any and all information I could. I learned how to figure out what people wanted at an early age - and how to give or deny them that - to get what I wanted.
It worked with my parents until that last year of high school.
“A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” I say, offering her the book. “Reminds me a little of your situation. I mean having to put off what you want until your brother gets his education.”
She takes it from me, still suspicious. I sit at the other end of the couch, grabbing my book from the end table. It’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses in the original French.
A little on the nose, but an interesting way to maintain my language skills.
I’m fluent in several. My father told me I could’ve been an ambassador, but I’d disappointed him there too.
Sasha’s asleep in minutes, curled into a ball at the end of the sofa. Part of me wants to forgo patience and gently tease her pussy through those yoga pants. Instead I touch her hair, testing to see how deeply asleep she is. Her exhaustion seems to have finally overridden her animal instincts, so I carry her to the bedroom. As I pull back the comforter and place her on my bed, she rewards me with a languorous stretch that arches her back and puts her full breasts on display.
Good thing I’m a gentleman.
I’ll have plenty of time to explore her body later.
I leave a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand and shut the door behind me.
Quickly I clean up the kitchen, and then decide to take a quick shower and get myself off.
My sex drive has always been absurdly high. With women, I draw out the foreplay and build tension as long as possible to create the most intense climax I can.
It’s fun watching the warring factions of their desire and good sense do battle. It’s why I reject my sister Siobhan’s criticism that I use women. In fact, I always give them the fucking of their lives. So good they can’t hate me even if they want to.
Tonight, though, it’s just going to be me, so I climb into the warm water, stroking my cock, imagining Sasha’s pretty little mouth wrapped around it.
That’d keep her from talking our staff into unionizing.
Maybe I’ll fuck her on one of the poker tables and then play the closed-circuit footage for our staff.
You just don’t know who you can trust nowadays. Your union rep could be in bed, so to speak, with the boss’s son.
It’s a compelling idea. I come with a growl, pressing my forehead against the cool tile of the shower as the power of that particular fantasy washes through me.
Satisfied for the moment, I head to the guest bedroom and look forward to bringing my fantasies to life.
5
Sasha
Bolting away from a nightmare, I gasp for breath.
It’s not one of the worst ones, so I don’t think I screamed. God. The constant replay of the worst day of my life is unpleasant, to say the least. Why can’t my brain let it go? It’s always so vivid. I can still smell the fetid stink of the Mystic giving way to the coppery scent of my own blood.
Clearly I need to go to therapy, but the copays are high. It’s not an easy choice, but I’m trying to save as much as I can in case Benjamin doesn’t get enough scholarships to afford school.
It takes me a second to realize where I am. Finn Carney’s bedroom – alone. Still, it’s enough to have my heart racing.
I slide out of bed and head into the bathroom but not before noticing the bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand and swallowing four pills—twice the recommended dosage. Grabbing my phone and charger, I plug it into the wall. No way I’m getting any more sleep tonight. It’s not even two yet, but if I try to sleep, I may end up with one of my scarier dreams. I don’t need Finn Carney witnessing my shrieking and rushing in.
And he would rush in. Not because he’s a good person, but because he knows how to take advantage of a situation.
I have a text message from Jamilah, the woman who took the leadership role for the casino staff and who contacted SWU in the first place. She’s brave as hell, and one of the reasons I refuse to quit.
Still, Finn’s comment about my brother scared me. It’s bad enough that I’ve been hurt, but what