⚠️THIS STORY HAS EXPLICIT SCENES AND MATURE CONTENT. IT IS NOT ADVISED FOR THOSE YOUNGER THAN 18⚠️
Donovan Parker is a young, wealthy, successful CEO. He's a man of few words, and even less regrets.
Zane Richards just as young, wealthy and as succes...
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ZANE
THREE MONTHS LATER
After the run-in with Parker, that night, Isis and I got even closer. I had even offered the same collar to her a few times, and she came close to accepting. I knew if I gave her her space, she'd eventually come around. They say good things come to those who wait; well, I had no intention of doing so when it came to her.
We hadn't seen Parker since that night, but I knew he was lurking. I didn't care though because I had my Duchess and was slowly inching my way into her heart. I had her every day in my office, and every night in my bed, worshipping her body in ways that I KNEW she would feel down to her core for a very long time. Parker wasn't lying when he said she was the perfect sub for me. I made it my mission to see her smile at least three times a day. Normally, I'm a hard Dom, however all I have to do is look into her amber-hued eyes, and I'm putty in her hands.
Tonight's the night I tell her the secret I haven't had the balls to tell her, for fear of running her off. I had sent her to the penthouse ahead of me so that she could work out in the yoga studio I made for her. Because I want her full attention, I ordered our food to go as opposed to cooking. I'm usually not nervous about anything, and I hate the fact that I'm on edge about this. She's usually an understanding woman, but I don't know how she'll take this.
I knew I was going to ease my way into this. I had a feeling that things were going to change after tonight. It was the end of the working day, and I was brooding, looking outside my window. With a tumbler in my hand, I took a healthy sip of the expensive scotch, ready to get this over with.
I gather my belongings and files, ready to spill this unholy secret to her, hoping I won't creep her out. I pick up the phone to text her, deciding a call would be better.
"Hello?"
"Duch."
"Yes, Sire," she responds rather breathy.
"Fuck, Duchess, you just don't know what that does to me."
She gives a light chuckle, and even that is sexy and an aphrodisiac, "How I can please you, Sire?"
"You, naked on the kitchen counter, with your legs spread wide, playing with your pussy. You may not come though; that's my job. I'll be home soon." I hang up, drain the rest of my scotch, pack up and head home with a heavy heart.
I was hoping to prolong the inevitable by leaving at rush hour, to figure out how exactly I could tell Isis the truth without scaring her off. However, traffic was surprisingly light, and I made it home in record time. As I get in the elevator, the butterflies start to form in my stomach, and for the first time in my life, I'm extremely nervous. This woman doesn't have a clue as to how she holds my very existence in her hands.
