I’ve never been loved. Growing up with a drunk father taught me to trust no
one. When a man offers me a way to achieve my freedom, I’m put to the test. He
thinks he’ll win when all I see is a man who wants to strip me of my freedom.
I’ll play his game, because in the end, I’ll be the victor.
No man will ever have full control over me again.
I’ve never loved another. I own them, I play with them, and I let them go.
Until I meet Eve, and I see more behind her eyes. She needs to be owned and
dominated. I can’t promise her love, but she has me rethinking everything I’ve
ever known. She thinks she’ll win our little bet, but she’ll learn.
I always get what I want.
probe, still seated, my fingers steepled at my chin.
please call me Eve.”
Since we’re picking names and titles, please call me Sir.” My words are smooth,
yet with the dip in my timbre, I come across more demanding. And let’s face it—I am fucking demanding.
hitches, and the green sparkles playing against her almost chocolate eyes reel
me into her mind. Grabbing a stray strand of her slightly curled honey brown
hair must give her that second she needs to bring her mind to the present. “Um,
excuse me?” she asks, still standing, her tits about to fall out of the too
small dress that shows every luscious curve of her body.
everyone here who works for me, they all need to call me Sir. It’s not
tone is almost a question, but her thought process continues, and I see it in
her eyes. “Sir, but please call me Eve.”
Evelyn, dear. I call people whatever the fuck I choose to call them.” My
McKenna from earlier is still on my desk. When I grab it, I tip it toward me
and take a long sip, never taking my gaze off her. She wiggles under my stare,
and I internally chuckle.
her voice is the all-too-telling sass women try to pull with me.
here?” Her hands are on her hips, and it’s appropriate with the rise of pitch
in her tone.
you mean, why am I here, Sir?” I correct her.
smirk creeps onto her face. “Um, yes, that’s right.” Her sarcasm isn’t lost on
me. “Why am I here, Sir?”
Evelyn, if you want a job with me, your cute-ass attitude better disappear, you
understand? Now, take that cute ass of yours”—I point at the chair in front of
my desk—“that’s too fucking sassy at this point, and let’s chat. I understand
you’re down on your luck, and I have an offer for you.”
mother, veteran and a wife of a cancer survivor. Originally with a degree in
education, she started writing as an outlet that has led to a deep passion. She
lugs her computer with her as she crafts her next story. Her imaginary
friends become real on her pages as she creates a world for them. She loves
pretty nails, spikey hair and large earrings. Leigh can be found drinking
coffee or wine, depending on the time of the day.