ask you something, Kitten?” When she doesn’t reply, I continue because it’s more of a rhetorical question. “Who had control last night? You could have stopped at any time, but it didn’t seem hard for you to give your control to me.”
I make my point when a smile reaches the ends of her lips. “So, Kitten, it’s similar, but let me tell you, anytime you want it to stop, I stop. So who holds the control?” She cocks her head to the side. “It’s just one way to think of it because I will stop whenever you’re not comfortable.” I push to my feet, dropping a kiss on her head. “Let me get in the shower. Breakfast should be here in twenty minutes, and I’ll be out by then.” I leave her to her own thoughts. I want to ask her to join me. One look at her beautiful body, and I need more, but she has to take the time to come to grips with what I’ve explained to her, and then maybe, she’ll agree to what I know she wants. Sure, she wants me, but this girl is a born submissive and needs to be owned sexually. She just has to realize it herself.
My day has been a shitshow. Greer sent me over every document on the LA raid and the judge’s warrants and his rebuttal. The smug son of a bitch of my friend’s reply is, “The judge just loves one-on-one time with me.” Greer is convinced every man wants his dick. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks this is always just about him.
There has been no substantial claim for the judge to authorize the search of the club. The DA swore he had a witness to argue prostitution, but she recanted at the last minute. Again, it’s Greer’s own allegation that every free man is after him, but in the good way. After combing through the files, I shake my head, happy my friend gets off on his depravity.
The Seattle club had an apparent building code violation, and they were making us jump through hoops to show we were up to code. Greer has been a busy boy, hopping on my private jet to get to Seattle after the judge’s ruling, only to go round after round with the city manager, and like last time, he claims the man wants in his pants.
Eve’s over next to the window, watching all of New York pass her by, and it’s still several hours before we have to leave for the club. “Kitten, is there something you’d like to do today?”
She’s dressed in a pair of baggy jeans, and I love her in the skintight jeans that show every curve. However, Eve could wear a bag and still look gorgeous.
“Can we go to the Central Park Zoo? I’ve never been, and it’s an iconic area in New York.”
I push to my feet because I don’t plan on telling Eve no. Not that I want to. I find I want to please her, making her smile—always. It’s what you do, when you love someone.
She’s like a spider monkey. Her attention is at one place one second, and then she’s pulling me to another exhibit. “The penguins are my favorite,” she utters, her hand in mine.
“Any specific reason?” I wonder out loud, and in her hurry to get to the exhibit, she begins to educate me on the flightless birds.
“Um, well, yeah… so, where to start? Okay, my three favorite facts.” She takes in a deep breath. “Did you know that an emperor penguin is able to dive almost two thousand feet? Penguins are known to lie in colonies with over two hundred thousand birds, and this is my favorite. These birds are able to drink salt water and not get sick.”
“Are you planning on drinking salt water someday? Is that why you find this fact so impressive?” I tease, and she hits me. “So, Kitten, why do you find penguins so interesting?”
She sighs, and I grab her hand again. “I wanted to be a vet or a zoologist. I just love animals of all kinds. But it was all I could do to escape my dad at eighteen. I moved in with some girls, and we started to waitress. It’s all I’ve ever been good at.”
We’re in the building housing the penguins when I pull her away from the traffic of everyone else. “Please tell me you don’t believe this? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with waitressing. But you, Evelyn