Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Maybe taking my frustration out on a woman’s pussy…
Feeling her under my control.
Forced to take every inch of me inside of whatever hole I demanded.
Forced to obey me.
Forced to do as she was fucking told.
All with no ulterior motive. Just a clean exchange, a simple quid pro quo that didn’t demand more of my time than I was willing to give, ending in the dopamine rush of an orgasm. Couldn’t hurt, right? At the very least, it would clear my head.
There was a madam who was very respected in the area. She kept her girls clean and honest. A number of the men who went that route used her if they weren’t blackmailing some other poor girl into it. I could get her number and see if she had anyone available this week.
With all the focus I’d been putting on my career, it had been too long since I’d been between a woman’s thighs.
I turned the corner into the bullpen and saw the light on in my office. I frowned. Something wasn’t right. My office was supposed to be locked with the lights off, precisely how I left it.
There were spare keys in the desks next to my door, one for my secretary and one for my paralegal. It stood to reason whoever was in my private office had gotten one of those keys. The only question left was who was going to be fired for doing so.
Of course, it could be someone other than an employee.
Although I had been keeping a tight lid on it, it was possible my secret investigation into the Irish mob’s business affairs in New York had been leaked. With the right bribe, all information was for sale. Even sensitive files from the district attorney’s office.
Not knowing who I would be facing, I stormed into my office with the idea of taking whoever was inside by surprise since I did not have the benefit of my gun, which was in my center desk drawer.
The office was empty.
My narrowed gaze scanned the file cabinets lining one far wall. None of the drawers were opened or seemed to be disturbed. The same could be said for my desk. If someone was in here attempting to steal files, they were either the neatest criminal I had ever come across in my career or I had interrupted them before they’d had a chance to ransack the place.
My head then jerked to the side at a dull thud coming from across the room. There was a sliver of light under the bathroom door. Setting my leather briefcase on the desk, I stretched my arm over its expanse, pulled open the center drawer, and withdrew my Smith and Wesson .38 revolver.
The average citizen assumed a semiautomatic pistol, like a Glock, was superior to the old-fashioned revolver. They were wrong. A macabre perk of being an attorney was access to gun data.
The revolver had a sixty percent higher fatality rate than a Glock. It was a more efficient gun if your intent when shooting was to kill—as mine would be.
Adjusting the gun’s grip in my hand, I moved to the closed bathroom door, being careful to approach it from the side and not straight on, in case the perpetrator should suddenly swing it open and emerge shooting.
There were more thuds and bumps, the scrape of a shoe against the tiles, then a couple of muted bangs as if something had been knocked over on the sink’s marble countertop.
What the fuck?
Judging by the noise, there was a struggle on the other side of the door.
Had two people broken in?
If they were fighting one another, then their intent was not to conceal themselves from discovery.
Which meant it was not someone affiliated with the mafia.
I was back to my original hypothesis.
It was someone from my staff.
Was one of them testing the boundaries of their job by bringing a lover into the boss’s office for an illicit thrill?
It would be a bold move but ultimately stupid and career-ending.
There had already been too much time wasted today.
They needed to get the fuck out and hope I didn’t recognize them.
Lowering the gun, I threw open the door.
CHAPTER 3
HARRISON
A beautiful woman trying to wriggle into or maybe out of a shirt fell into my arms.
The first thing I noticed was her warm, tanned skin and how impossibly soft it was under my hands. Then how her hair smelled of strawberries and orchids.
She had to be a hooker who’d just wandered into the wrong office building before it closed. Maybe it was my lucky night, and hers, with how much I was willing to pay to steal her from her date tonight.
Realizing she would be no threat, with my free arm, I reached up and placed the gun on top of the nearest bookcase.
The woman yanked her top off, wincing as she pulled out several strands of her golden blonde hair that had wrapped around a cheap imitation white pearl button. She took a step back then looked at me with wide, pale green eyes rimmed with gorgeous, thick lashes.