Chapter 21

I was staring at my laptop screen. Curled up on my couch, my legs tucked in underneath me. My mind was still drifting back to Mr Drake’s wrist. The tiny tattoo.

I hadn’t been able to make out exactly what it was, but it had given me déjà vu. It had reminded me of The Curator.

I shook my head. I really didn’t need this. These dirty thoughts that kept creeping into my heads. Thoughts about climbing on top of my boss. It was just the tattoo location. That was all. It had just given me flashbacks.

I tapped on my phone screen, checking for any new messages. A new one from dad. I opened it.

Hey sweetheart. I’m out of state. Fell into a bit of cash and decided to head to Texas. I’ll be down here for the foreseeable future.

I gasped, “What the fuck?”

My dad was not a perfect father-don’t get it confused. But he had never been an absent father. In fact, he had never managed to leave me the hell alone. The behaviour was very sudden and very odd.

What the hell dad? Without a goodbye? To do what? And where did you get cash?

I saw a few dots appear as he responded.

Can’t talk hun. Too busy. Chat soon.

I rolled my eyes and whispered to myself, “Yeah, you’ll be home soon.”

Then a new message appeared on my screen.

Tonight. Same time. A car is already on the way.

The Diamond Montgomery.

To finish what we started.

Wear whatever you want.

Nora will not be assisting today.

-The Curator

I smiled. I wanted to text something back. Something provocative. But I was too scared. Would The Curator be ok with that? More personal messages? Fuck it.

Looking forward to seeing you.

And feeling you…

A driver soon arrived, and I followed the typical routine. We arrived at the hotel, I retrieved the card from the front desk, got in the elevator and went up to the top floor.

I stepped out. I walked up to the door, but there was no blindfold on the knob this time. I knocked.

It swung open immediately.

It was Dr. Creed, wearing nothing but jeans and his dark blue ski mask. Before I could even say hello, he pulled me inside. I almost tripped over but he caught me and laughed before shutting the door behind me.

Vale and The Curator were standing there waiting in their ski masks. Vale in his dark grey and The Curator in his olive mask.

“Hello Sloane,” The Curator said.

I smiled. My mind floated back to the message I had sent him. He hadn’t responded. Maybe I had gone too far.

“We wanted to pick up where we left off,” he stepped towards me slowly. “We were going to show you some things.”

I smiled again. He motioned towards the open door of his bedroom.

I followed him inside. Vale and Dr. Creed’s eyes were scanning my body as I followed. He pointed to the wall, opposite of his bed.

Now, those had not been there before.

Along the wall were neat little rows of…toys. Sex toys. Chains. Cuffs. Harnesses. Whips. Hanging from shelves and hooks adhered neatly to the wall.

I gasped.

“What do you think Sloane?” The Curator said, his voice dropping low. The way his voice deepened, caused a flashback. A flashback to the night he had agreed to eat my pussy.

Low. Dark. Hungry.

I turned, “I think…” My body was screaming. Aching. Pleading.

“She likes it,” Dr. Creed said, his voice full of amusement. “I can tell.”

“We won’t use too much on you Sloane,” The Curator said, stepping closer to me. His eyes were darker. “We’ve been testing your limits, trying small things. Nothing extreme.”

“Do you think you can handle it?” Dr. Creed said, tilting his head at me.

“Yes,” I said, my eyes scanning to meet theirs.

“We made a decision,” The Curator said, reaching out to trail his fingers down the length of my arm. “We want to eat your pussy. And we want you to suck our cocks.”

As if he hadn’t already done it. But I would play his little pretend game. I wanted to climb him like a tree. I wanted him to treat me like a toy. Use me. Abuse me. I wanted them to take turns. Fucking me. Licking my clit.

He pulled on my hand and led me to the bed. There were two sets of metal chains hanging from the top of the posts, down to the bed. There were two metal chains on the other end as well.

The chains were connected to metal cuffs.

“We’re going to put you in these Sloane.” He said gently. “Now get on the bed. On your back.”

I laid down on the bed. The Curator secured my wrists to the cuffs. Vale secured my ankles. Then he pulled my ankles upward using the chains. They were so high up, they were almost completely vertical. As he pulled them up and secured them in place, my legs spread far apart.

I was wearing a sundress with a lace thong. The hem of the dress fell back as my legs moved upward and spread.

Dr. Creed immediately made his way to the edge of the bed and reached out, pulling my lace thong to the side of my vagina.

He made his way onto the bed, kneeling in front of the opening in between my legs. He looked down at me before inserting his thumb into my vagina. I twitched under his touch.

He inserted it farther and I moaned. Then he leaned forward, bringing his mouth to my vagina. He reached out and licked, his tongue gliding along my labia.

I whimpered and his tongue found my clit. He began flicking it with his tongue as his thumb moved in and out of me.

My eyes were closed, my mouth open. Then I felt something warm and smooth being pressed into my mouth. I opened my eyes.

The Curator. He was straddling my chest, propped up on his knees, so his weight was not on me. He had just pushed his throbbing cock into my mouth.

It was salty. Warm. Hard.

I moaned and he rocked forward. Slow at first. In and out. He groaned, “Suck it you slut. Just like that. That’s the way I like it.”

Then he pushed hard and deep, one hand now on the bedframe behind my head. He was bracing himself as he fucked my face. His movements were so hard and full that tears filled my eyes.

Then I saw Vale move to my side. He reached for my hand and placed it on his dick. I wrapped my hand around it and began to move my hand back and forth. He was watching me, his gaze so heavy it almost unnerved me.

I looked over, continuing to stroke Vale’s penis. The Curator was still fucking my mouth, his ab muscles taunt and tight as he moved. Dr. Creed had not stopped eating my pussy. His fingers were buried deep.

I felt my vagina pulsate. My eyes rolled into the back of my hand as I came. Dr. Creed only increased his movements as I did. Licking my clit as I peaked, prolonging my orgasm.

My hand had gone limp for a moment on Vale’s dick so he wrapped his large hand around mine, now helping me stroke his cock.

The Curator continued his thrusts, “What a good girl you are Sloane. You take it all so well.” His movements muffled my moans.

My thighs trembled as my orgasm came to an end. Dr. Creed was now licking my inner thigh and lapping at my moisture. Vale pulled away and The Curator moved off of me. The moment his dick left my mouth I gasped.

Vale was now straddling me, already slipping his cock into my mouth. I whimpered as he pushed it into my mouth, pushing slowly back and forth. But not for long. Soon, he was slamming into me as he fucked my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. In. Out.

The Curator was now moving the cuffs that were on my ankles, lifting my legs even higher than they were before. They were now completely vertical, but still spread wide open. My legs ached, but I didn’t care.

He gripped onto both of my thighs and slid into me, moaning as he did, “God, what a tight pussy. So wet. Perfect.” He reached out to gently rub my clitoris. But his thrusts were slow. Paced for enjoyment. He rocked in and out of me.

“You like it don’t you?” Vale said, still pushing his cock into my mouth. His hard movements caused my breasts to bounce up and down, my head tapping against the headboard.

I moaned in response, and he pulled himself out of my mouth. Moving to the side as Dr. Creed now straddled me. Dr. Creed then pushed his dick into my mouth. He slid forward, as deep as he could. I gagged. My eyes watered.

He looked down at me.

He stayed frozen like that for a moment before speaking.

“We own you Sloane. You know that right?”

Chapter 22

I nodded, his cock still filling my mouth.

“That’s why I can face fuck you whenever I want, right?” He asked. I nodded again, and he began rocking back and forth. His movements were fast-but not as hard as Vale’s.

The Curator was still pushing into me. I loved it. His thick, hard cock stretching me. Waves of pleasure were beginning to build already. The Curator sensed it, “Another one?”

He was still rubbing at my clitoris, “Mmm. I can feel her boys. That pussy. God. She is going to cum again.”

And I did. All over his dick. As he moved, soft and slow. I moaned, but it was stifled by Dr. Creed’s massive penis, which was still being stuffed deep down my throat.

The Curator fucked me and rubbed me until I was finished. Dr. Creed pulled himself out of my mouth. He reached up and undid the cuffs on my wrists while The Curator released my ankles.

I turned to look at Vale. He was near the side of the bed, standing by a bench. I hadn’t noticed it earlier. I had been too distracted by the prospective pussy licking and the collection of sex toys on the wall.

It had cuffs and straps dangling from the sides. It was a rectangular bench, with a black leather upholstered cushion. There were four holders on the side, where someone could place their shins and arms.

They all turned to look at me.

“Get on,” Vale ordered.

“Yes, sir,” I said, standing and walking over.

“Face down,” He said. “Prop yourself up.”

I straddled the bench, face down. I placed my arms and shins onto the designated spots on the sides of the bench. Vale and The Curator fastened my arms and legs tightly. I attempted to wiggle, to test how strong it was. It would not budge.

I was now strapped to the bench. It had forced me into a doggy position. One I could not move from.

There was no warning. He had already pulled my thong out of the way and was now inside of me. I gasped and turned back, my ass cheeks bouncing. It was Vale, his eyes were cast downward as he watched himself fucking me.

“Such a big ass,” He breathed.

Dr. Creed was standing next to Vale. I felt a sting as he reached out to slap one cheek. “Yes, it is nice.”

The Curator was moving to where my face was, I turned to him. I tried to speak but instead a moan came out and my back arched.

He kneeled down, so we were eye to eye, “Succumb to the pleasure Sloane. But never the pain.”

I nodded as Vale’s fingernails dug into the skin on my waist. I groaned, the sound of skin meeting skin could be heard. Dr. Creed was slapping and groping my ass cheeks.

The Curator reached out, he held something in his hands, “It’s a nipple clamp.” He said it gently. “I think you are ready.”

“Y-yes,” I said, trying to speak between thrusts. “Fuck…”

“God, she is soaking again,” Dr. Creed whistled. I felt his fingers on my clit. “She will need a few days to recover. A proper break this time boys. I know it’s hard.”

Then I felt it. The clamp. Only one at first. A sharp sting. One that mixed with the feeling of Vale’s dick inside of me. Of Dr. Creed’s fingers on my clit.

“Oh God,” I gasped. I loved it. I fucking loved it.

The Curator then put the clamp on my other nipple and I moaned, “Oh fuck. God.” I squealed. I whimpered.

“I knew it,” The Curator said. “I knew when I interviewed you.”

Vales movements had now slowed and he pulled away from me.

“What an ass.” Dr. Creed’s voice said. I felt his fingers gripping my waist as he positioned himself.

Then Dr. Creed slid into me and I moaned, the nipple clamps still shooting pain through me. I trembled. I shook. Dr. Creed was pounding into me. No breaks. Just thrusting.

“I love seeing it bounce,” he said, his voice cracking from pleasure.

My body went limp and I slipped forward, my eyes cast downward. “What a body,” he moaned, gripping onto my waistline and pulling it back into place.

I felt a hand take hold of my hair, pulling my head upwards. It was The Curator.

“Stay up,” The Curator said, clicking his tongue. “You need to be a good slut. A good fuck.”

My eyes met his as he pushed his dick towards my mouth. I opened it without hesitation. He slid it in and rocked his hips, one hand holding my chin up and the other holding my hair. He moved slow, moaning and rocking. His ab muscles rippled with each movement.

“Good girl,” The Curator moaned. “Fuck, that feels nice Sloane.”

“Climb under the bench Vale,” I heard Dr. Creed say between thrusts. “You can probably reach her clit.” His huge cock was still filling me up, stretching my vagina.

Moments later, I felt something warm and wet on my clit. Vale was licking it. He had climbed under the bench and maneuvered there.

So now my mouth was full of The Curator’s massive penis. Vale was licking my clit. Dr. Creed was pounding my pussy. My tits were moving back and forth with their movements, nipple clamps dangling from them.

The Curator pulled himself out of my mouth, “Were you sore this week?”

I nodded, “Yes, s-”

But, I couldn’t get my sentence out. Dr. Creed was now pounding so hard that the bench was shifting.

I felt a slap on my ass, “Answer him slut.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I moaned. I was so wet, I could hear a sloshing sound as Dr. Creed moved in and out of me.

The Curator kneeled in front of me and reached for the clamps, “You can have a break sweetheart.”

Then he leaned forward and gripped onto my titties, “They’re so big.” His thumbs ran along the top of my sore nipples and I let out a soft whimper.

“Do you like the way we fuck you Sloane?” he asked, tilting his head at me.

I let out a moan before answering. “Ye-yes…sir.”

“Are you a good little slut Sloane?” he asked, now reaching up to tuck a stray hand of hair behind my ear.

“Oh, God!” I screamed as my pleasure continued to mount. “Yes! I am a good little slut!”

The Curator was looking directly at me, his blue eyes peering through the holes of his mask. Then he leaned forward, his voice dropping so low, that I almost couldn’t hear him.

“I liked your message Sloane,” he muttered.

So he had been ok with the text message I had sent…

“Her pussy is so tight,” Dr. Creed moaned. I could feel his cock pulsating. Then I felt it, his warm cum flooding my vagina. He moaned and his breathing grew deeper.

He finished and pulled away. Vale had now stopped his licking. I felt a cold rag on my vagina. Then I felt something extremely cold.

I jerked in surprise, “It’s ice,” I heard The Curator say. He was now behind me. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Please.”

“Wow,” I heard Dr. Creed say. “None of them have lasted like this.”

There had been more?

I felt the ice leave, then a warm tongue on my clit again. Dr. Creed. Vale was now in front of me, slipping his cock into my mouth. The Curator was fucking me, soft and gentle.

Vale gripped my head and pounded and pounded. I began to gag. “Push through Sloane,” he groaned as my eyes watered. “Take my dick like a good toy.”

And I did. Like a good slut. A good toy. A good fuck.

The tip of his dick slammed into the back of my mouth. Over and over again. Then he exploded in my mouth, flooding it with his salty cum.

“God, that wet mouth,” Vale groaned, still thrusting as he finished. He then stopped and pulled away. “Spit it out.”

I did what he asked. Directly on the floor beneath me. Then he pulled on my hair, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “You see that? I decide Sloane.” Then he released his grip on my hair.

The Curator was now pulsating inside of me, just as my pussy was throbbing and tightening around him. Then I felt him pull back, followed by the feeling of his cum spraying all over my ass. Dr. Creed was still licking my clit.

“That’s right,” The Curator said his voice husky as he smeared his cum on my ass cheeks. “Release it Sloane.”

I screamed, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. The orgasm was heavier than I had ever experienced before. It crashed into me, rippling through my body.

I felt it spray from me.

“Holy fuck,” I heard The Curator say. “She’s a squirter.”

I screamed with pleasure.

Chapter 23

I had awoken to a text from The Curator. I was still in my pajamas as I yawned and opened it.

No appointments for a while, while you rest.

You have done well in fulfilling your obligations.

–The Curator

It was the weekend. I had slept until noon, my body sore, raw, and aching.

I still hadn’t heard from Dad. At first, I didn’t panic. But total silence was unusual for him. Something felt off.

I finally texted him, even though I hated doing it. Reaching out meant risking him asking for money again, or worse, showing up out of nowhere and derailing my entire day with whatever new brand of chaos he had brewing. But he was still my dad. I loved that crazy man, despite everything.

Despite growing up with a father who drifted in and out of prison. Despite the nights he passed out drunk on the couch, a lit cigarette still in his hand. I used to find him there, unmoving. I’d scream his name and slap his cheek, terrified he wasn’t breathing.

Hey. Just checking in. You good?

I tried to act like I wasn’t waiting for the three dots. I failed.

Instead of Dad, Georgie texted me.

Downtown tonight?? Dress UP. I AM BORED AF.

I agreed. I wasn’t much of a partier, but maybe it would distract me from my thoughts. Like the fact that my dad was basically missing. Or the fact that my contract with the men only had a couple of weeks left.

Something about the contract ending unnerved me. Yeah, I was meant to be used by them. Then… paid. Very well. But I had enjoyed every single second of my time with them.

Maybe I didn’t want it to end…

I pulled on one of the designer dresses The Curator had given me. A short black one, paired with gold heels. Sleek, risky, expensive. It was perfect.

I called an Uber and headed into the city to meet Georgie.

When I arrived, downtown was alive. Loud. Messy. Neon lights lighting up the streets. Georgie was waiting for me in some rinky-dink bar that smelled like stale, spilled beer. The dance floor was sticky and jam-packed with sweaty bodies.

Georgie was wearing one of the dresses we had bought together. A red strappy dress that hugged her curves. She was magnetic.

We hit the shots immediately. Tequila, then vodka, then something blue—I had forgotten the name of it. We ended up on the crowded dance floor, our hands above our heads. We probably looked like drunk idiots, but in that moment, I felt sexy.

My legs felt disconnected, loose, like they belonged to someone far braver than I. At one point, Georgie leaned in close, shouting over the music, “What’s going on with your dad?”

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. But inside, I felt worried. “He just… disappeared. He’s gone quiet.”

Georgie frowned at that. Then, in that blunt way she always had, she asked, “Any updates on your mom?”

My mom? I hadn’t thought about her for a while. Another parent of the year…

I shook my head, trying to keep my voice light. “Nothing new. Same place. Same shit.”

Georgie nodded sympathetically. It wasn’t just the alcohol that made her sympathetic. Georgie meant it. After all, she had been around all these years to see the disaster—AKA my family—unfold. “Three years is a long time,” she shouted. “I just… I hope she’s okay.”

I blinked back a few drunken tears. Schizophrenia doesn’t just go away. No cocktail of drugs ever seemed to be enough. The therapy just seemed to make her more paranoid.

But the music surged around us again, drowning out our conversation. Then Georgie—never one to linger on serious things—grabbed my hand and pulled me deeper into the crowd.

And I let her.

Because it was easier to get drunk and dance than it was to think.

We began dancing again, swaying to the music. Then she nudged me. “So, when are you planning to lose your virginity?”

I laughed too loudly. “I already have.”

She blinked and her jaw dropped. Then she clutched my arm.

“YOU DID? With who?” Georgie demanded, eyes wide.

I shook my head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“No, tell me now, slut!” she shouted, laughing, shaking my shoulders like the answer might fall out. “You cannot just drop that on me!”

“I’m dancing!” I yelled back, shimmying away from her grasp.

“Oh my GOD,” she groaned dramatically, her eyes narrowing.

I laughed, leaning in. “Later. I swear.”

“I hate you,” she said. Then she kissed my cheek before someone grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the crowd.

And somewhere in all that chaos—I made a terrible decision.

I needed to see the men. Or at least one of them.

The Curator was the first to come to mind. I wasn’t sure if they could all read my messages. But I only knew one way to contact him. My hands fumbled into my bag, and I dropped my phone twice on the dance floor before managing to unlock it.

I stared at our message thread. No plan. No appointment. No reason to contact him.

And then I typed anyway.

(12:14 AM): Hiiiiii

(12:15 AM): arr you awak???

(12:16 AM): im in the cittyyyy

(12:16 AM): cummm get meee lol

(12:17 AM): pls?????

His reply came sharp and fast. Faster than I had expected.

We do not have arrangements tonight, Sloane.

–The Curator

I laughed. Loudly. For some reason, his formality was hilarious to me.

So, naturally, I made it worse.

(12:18 AM): im at 12th street bring ur carrrrr

(12:18 AM): rude

And then I sent him a selfie. A blurry one, with the camera far too close to my face. Then I shoved the phone back into my purse.

The room spun. The lights blurred.

But instead of slowing down, I found Georgie. I grabbed her hand and yelled, “Shots?”

She screamed. “Yes, always!”

And the night kept spiralling on.

I felt my phone vibrate and opened it.

We do not have arrangements tonight. As I have already said.

I sent him my location again. Because why not?

Meanwhile, Georgie was making out with some guy wearing a sweater vest. She wanted to go home with him, but refused to leave me alone at the bar.

So I called an Uber. We walked outside and onto the sidewalk. When a car pulled up, I pointed. “There. Look. My ride.”

She turned to look, cheered, and stumbled off with her guy.

Before I could react, the front door opened, and Mr. Drake stepped out. It turned out that it was not the Uber I had called.

“I can drive you home,” he said, voice low, controlled. God, he looked good. Like a model. Tousled brown hair. Taut muscles under a white T-shirt. Black gym shorts and white Nike shoes.

“What are… youuu…” I jabbed my finger toward him. “Doing… here?” I tried to keep my eyes from wandering down the length of his body, but they betrayed me.

His face was flat. Maybe angry.

Due to my drunken haze, I didn’t care if he answered. I just wobbled a few times and slid into the front seat.

The interior of the red sports car was dim and cool, the black leather smooth against my skin. The engine purred when he started it, and the car began vibrating.

“You shouldn’t be so careless,” he said, his eyes cast forward.

“You shouldn’t appear out of nowhere,” I muttered.

He almost smiled. “I was driving by and saw you stumbling on the sidewalk. Like I said, I was next door.”

His hands on the wheel were steady, elegant. I watched them for far too long.

“You have nice hands,” I blurted.

He smiled, the streetlights casting strands of gold light across his cheekbones. “Do I?”

“Very pleasant hands,” I said, my words wobbly.

He laughed quietly. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”

We sat in silence for a while, while I tried to control my urge to vomit.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” he said softly.

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I would never. I’m a saint.”

“Your breath smells like vodka,” he said, glancing at me. “It’s very distinctive. You’ve had far too much.”

“You’re bossy.” I rolled my eyes.

“Only because you’re reckless,” he mumbled. I almost didn’t hear it—he said it so gently.

When we pulled into the parking lot of my complex, he got out first, opening my door like a gentleman from another century. I stepped out too fast and wobbled. He caught me. His hand was warm against the skin on my elbow.

We stood close. Too close. I could smell him. He smelt clean and fresh-like aftershave and expensive cologne.

I sucked my breath in and held it. Maybe it was to steady myself. Maybe it was because he was too fucking hot to be real. Or maybe it was to keep me from projectile vomiting all over my boss.

He stepped away from me, his hand still on my elbow. I looked down at his grip. That’s when I noticed the tattoo on the side of his wrist. The same one I had noticed a few days ago.

I tried to make out what it was. But he moved too quickly, stepping back, his hands slipping into the pockets of his shorts. His green eyes were staring into mine, his expression softer than I had ever seen it before.

“Goodnight,” he said gently.

And then he drove away.

It hadn’t even occurred to me until that very moment.

How did he know where I lived?

Chapter 24

I stumbled into my apartment, shutting the door behind me. I fumbled for the lock and secured it in place.

My stomach plunged. I raced toward the toilet, projectile vomiting up globs of blue. It tasted like vodka and regret. I stood to my feet, now feeling a lot better. I rinsed my mouth out in the sink.

Then I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the thread with The Curator.

And for some reason, I decided that I was super pissed off at him. In fact, I was super pissed off at all of them. Vale and Dr. Creed were on my hit list too.

Because in my drunken state, I had suddenly remembered that one of them had mentioned other women not being able to handle the three of them. What other women?

One of the men had mentioned it casually, like it didn’t matter. Like it shouldn’t matter to me.

But now? Drunk and insecure?

It mattered. Far too much. And it was now eating me alive.

How many other women were there? Was I just one on a list?

Were they seeing someone tonight? While I was drunk-texting and embarrassing myself?

I grabbed my laptop and flipped it open. It looked like I would need to find out on my own. I somehow managed to enter my encrypted workspace.

Even while very drunk, I still felt it—the thing I loved so much about hacking. The thrill of it. Half power, half danger. My fingers flew across the keyboard like a pianist. Natural and effortless.

“How many women?” I whispered to my empty living room. “Let’s find out.”

And I began hacking into the dark ad all over again.

---

The next morning hit me like a train. My head throbbed. My mouth tasted like death. And then I remembered.

The Curator.

The texts.

Mr. Drake picking me up.

It got worse when I started to remember that I had opened my laptop. I’d gone onto the dark web to look for something. But what?

Nothing. A blackout gap.

“Oh my god,” I groaned into my hands. Hopefully I was just aimlessly browsing for fun again.

I showered forever, hoping hot water could wash away my bad luck. Back in my room, with a towel draped over my freshly washed hair, my phone buzzed.

It was Georgie.

I considered ignoring it. I couldn’t take any more bad news. But I sighed and answered.

“Baaaaaabe,” she whined, “why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

I sighed. “A what?”

“A boyfriend! The guy who picked you up last night! You just went with him like it was nothing. How dare you not tell me!” She was belting into the phone. I winced and pulled it further away from my ear.

If only she knew there were three.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said lightly. “Promise.”

“You better. And I want details.” She said. She rambled about her night with the guy she had met at the bar. Then she hung up.

I collapsed back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Then I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep. I woke up a few hours later and turned to check the time. 1:00 p.m. I had managed to fall back asleep for four hours.

I sat up and winced, my head still pounding. I made my way to the kitchen. I gulped down a few glasses of water. I made myself a bowl of cereal and popped a few Tylenol into my mouth.

Then I slid onto my couch before flicking the TV on. I planned to stay like this for the remainder of the day while I rode out my hangover.

Just as I was taking a bite of my cereal, my eyes landed on my coffee table. There was my laptop, sitting on top. Open…

I raised a brow before tapping the space bar. It came back to life. I almost dropped my bowl of cereal when I saw it.

There were pages and windows open that I didn’t remember touching. For a few seconds I just stared, waiting for my brain to catch up.

A progress bar hovered in the corner:

TRACE COMPLETE: 47%

None of it looked familiar.

Diagrams. Code strings. Server maps. A half-finished trail I apparently had been tracing back to that dark-web ad. The ad that I had applied to. The ad that the three men posted.

I didn’t remember doing any of it. But it was right in front of me. Plain as day.

My heart thudded against my chest. I’d made it almost halfway… without remembering a thing. I leaned forward and moved my finger along the mousepad. The screen flickered. The windows collapsed immediately, one by one.

For a moment, the screen froze.

Then a new screen blinked to life. Solid black, except for a line of text in elegant gold lettering, glowing. Now that was familiar.

“Oh fuck,” I hissed, quickly sliding my bowl of cereal onto the coffee table. My eyes skimmed over the text, panic setting in.

Nice try, Sloane. You’ve been a naughty girl.

–The Curator

I stared at it, eyes wide.

My hand hovered over the trackpad. There was no exit button, no escape. Just that message.

I’d been caught. Red-handed. Dread set in.

Would they call off the deal?

---

The next morning, my nerves started twitching from the moment I walked into BD Systems. My plan was simple: avoid Mr. Drake at all costs. No eye contact, no conversations. And it would have to stay this way for the remainder of my career here.

I was on the hunt for coffee. The machines on this floor brewed decent stuff. A far cry from the cheap shit we got down in the basement.

I was walking toward the coffee machine when I saw her. God, I hated her. The Bitch on Level 28. She was mixing her coffee with a spoon. She turned as I approached.

At first she just stood there, staring at me. I remained still, waiting for her to say something. In fact, I wanted her to say something. So I could take my frustrations out on her.

“Sloane,” she said my name slowly, like it was poison. “I heard you had somehow managed to make your way up here.”

I raised my brows at her. “This is Level 30—don’t you work on Level 28?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “I had a meeting on this level.”

“Great—can you fuck off now?” I smirked, crossing my arms across my chest.

She stood there, now viciously stirring her coffee. I could see it in her eyes. She was plotting my murder. Plotting her revenge.

“I’ll be reporting you to HR,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “You can’t keep speaking to people like that.”

I laughed. “Go ahead.” Maybe she would be doing me a favor by having me fired again. So I could avoid interacting with Mr. Drake.

She glared at me for a few more moments before turning and leaving the room. I smiled and turned back to make my coffee.

I was reaching for a mug when I felt it. A prickle on the back of my neck. I looked up, and through the narrow crack between two glass partitions… I saw him.

Mr. Drake.

Heading straight down the hallway. Toward the staff lounge.

My stomach dropped.

“Shit,” I hissed.

Before I even thought about it, I ducked behind the big gray sofa in the corner. Very professional behavior. Very “top-floor executive” sort of stuff.

My back was pressed tightly against the sofa, my palms sweating. Then I heard them. Footsteps approaching. Slow. Careful. I held my breath. Then… silence.

I exhaled, relief rushing over me.

“Do you not like the coffee?”

I nearly launched myself into the ceiling. I turned around, and there he was. He was leaning over the back of the sofa, his green eyes peering down at me.

His expression was unreadable. Mine was probably pure panic.

“No,” I stumbled over my words. “I mean—yes. Maybe. The coffee is…strong.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. As if he was holding back a smile.

I opened my mouth, but I shouldn’t have. I should have shut the fuck up and stopped speaking. “I was… stretching?”

“Behind the sofa?” he said flatly.

“Yes. Exactly.” I replied, as if it were perfectly reasonable.

He stared at me in silence. Now expressionless.

Finally, he straightened. “Next time you want to stretch, Sloane, you can go for a walk on your lunch break. No evasive maneuvers required.”

He walked away. Like we had just had a completely normal workplace interaction.

I stayed crouched behind the sofa for a few moments longer, silently considering whether it was too early in the day to fake my own death.

Chapter 25

It had been two days since I had been caught trying to hack into the ad. The Curator had not messaged me since then. I’d also spent the last two days becoming an expert at avoiding any conversations with Mr. Drake.

I was now typing up an email when I heard a knock at my door. I held my breath. Hopefully, it was not Mr. Drake.

“Come in,” I called. But my voice broke as the anxiety washed over me.

“Please don’t be him,” I whispered, my fingers frozen above my keyboard.

The door opened.

It wasn’t him.

“Hey there,” Mr. Hernandez said from the doorway. And God damnit, he looked good. His warm tan skin popped against a green fitted shirt that he had paired with a pair of designer jeans. The sort of look that would be too casual on most men. But somehow, he made it look like office attire.

His warm brown eyes lit up as he smiled, casually sauntering over to my desk, as if we were two college students meeting up for a study group.

My pulse raised and my stomach flipped as he slid into the chair in front of me, crossing one long leg over the other, his eyes fixed on mine.

Sometimes I felt like a horny teen. How was it that I was constantly satisfied by three men—with incredible dicks, might I add—yet I somehow managed to lose it over him? And the other two perfectly proportioned CEOs.

“H-hi,” I somehow managed to utter. “Can I help you?”

He leaned forward and I almost melted. “Yes. I do need some help. I wanted to see what you thought about this code I did.”

A laugh escaped me before I could hold it back. “You need my help? You’re an incredible coder.”

He laughed. “We hired you to crack our codes. You’re just as good as I am.”

“Sure,” I laughed again. “I’ll have a look.”

He patted the other chair next to him, on his side of my desk. “Come sit next to me so we can look together.”

I stood and moved over. But my body had gone numb. Except for my pussy. Because my God, it was vibrating.

“That’s better,” he said, his eyes running down the length of my body. Or maybe I was imagining it.

He pointed to a string of code on his screen. “Do you see this?”

I swallowed and nodded.

“Tell me what you think,” he said, tilting slightly to his side, the warmth from his body reaching the side of my arm.

I took a breath before skimming it. Then I replied, “That’s a vulnerability. Your input isn’t sanitized before it hits the parser.”

I turned to see his reaction, but he wasn’t even looking. His eyes were now on my knees. The bruises weren’t completely gone yet and were still visible when I sat down, as the hem of my dress lifted.

“What happened there?” he asked softly.

I shrugged and laughed nervously. “Oh, I just fell on—”

I froze and looked down. His hand was there, his thumb tracing over the bruise softly. I didn’t know what to do. Was it an HR complaint?

Absolutely not. Why?

Because I loved it.

It was in that moment that I decided that I might be an absolute lunatic. Did I say anything to stop him? Fuck no. Did I push his hand away? Nope.

He was tracing a small circle now, his eyes now on my face as he spoke. “Did it hurt?”

I shook my head. It was a lie. It had hurt like hell.

“How did it happen, though, Sloane?” he asked again. He pulled his hand away and I felt my skin go cold. I wanted him to touch me again.

“I fell on the stairs at my apartment,” I said quickly.

A small smile formed on his lips. “No you didn’t.” It was as if he knew exactly what had happened. Like he knew that I lied.

I blinked rapidly, unsure of how to answer. Then I heard the door open behind us. My head snapped back.

Mr. Drake.

He hadn’t even bothered to knock. And something was wrong. Because he looked mad. Not just a little mad. Angry as hell. Pissed. Full of rage. The list goes on.

“Luca,” he said sternly. “You’re late for the meeting.”

I watched Mr. Hernandez roll his eyes and smirk. “Right. Right. I’m heading that way.”

He turned back to look at me and winked. My panties were wet. I wanted this man to bend me over this desk and…

He stood slowly to his feet, his eyes traveling up and down my body one last time before he scooped up his laptop and made his way towards the door.

He stopped in front of Mr. Drake and slipped around him. Mr. Drake’s eyes were staring into his. Dark. Intense.

But as Mr. Hernandez left, Mr. Drake didn’t follow him. Instead he shut the door and walked towards me. My pulse quickened. My pussy was still throbbing.

I stood to my feet to face him. He continued forward, stopping just in front of me.

“Miss Heathrow,” he said, his voice flat and his eyes void of any emotion.

“Yes?” I said, trying to steady my voice. Had he just witnessed the inappropriate workplace interaction?

He stood there silently. I was still waiting for him to speak. But he said nothing. Just stared silently at me. I decided now was the time. It was time to just face what had happened. Fuck it. Why not?

“Sorry about the other night,” I said quickly. “I was really drunk. I am very thankful you happened to be there and am grateful for the ride home. I just—”

“Stop,” he said. His voice was so harsh, I flinched.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I was already around and I couldn’t leave you like that. I wasn’t allowing you to go into an Uber alone, either.”

I nodded, words failing me as his green eyes rested on my lips. It was like… he wanted to kiss me.

See—you are batshit crazy.

“Miss Heathrow, you are not to travel alone and intoxicated.” He said it with authority. Like a command. “Do you understand?”

Now, any sane woman in this situation would tell this man that his behavior was highly inappropriate. But not me. Not Sloane Heathrow.

Instead, I said, “I understand. I understand completely.”

There was familiar tension forming between us. Like he had cast a spell on me. Deja vu.

“Good,” he said, his body relaxing.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I pulled it out so quickly, I almost dropped it. I tapped the screen and groaned.

It was just a text from Georgie. Not Dad.

“Everything OK?” Mr. Drake said. I looked up and met his eyes. God, he was so hot. Like his DNA had been created in a lab. A perfect specimen.

I smiled. “Yes, I was just hoping that my dad had texted me. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

His face was blank. “Are you close to him?”

I shrugged. “Yes and no. Our relationship is a bit…non-traditional.”

Wordlessly, he turned and headed towards the door. He obviously wasn’t interested in my life’s story. He reached for the knob and looked over his shoulder before opening the door. “Have a good day.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

Once he was gone, I made a beeline for my laptop bag. My personal laptop was inside. I had decided to hack into Dad’s bank account to figure out where the hell he was. I hadn’t wanted to. As much as I loved the thrill of hacking, hacking into bank accounts warranted a level of crime that was far more serious than hacking into an ad or website.

But I did. I opened my laptop and logged into my encrypted workspace.

I skimmed his recent transaction history. The most recent charges were all out of Texas. Bars and fast food. Hotels. He had told me the truth.

But then I scrolled back a little farther. There were no travel charges. No plane tickets, bus fares, or gas purchases. Nothing showed he’d actually gotten to Texas.

My brows scrunched together as I kept scrolling. “That makes no sense,” I sighed.

I scrolled farther.

And then—I froze.

A single transaction.

+$120,000.00

Deposited from an account marked simply:

ORIGIN: PRIVATE HOLDINGS LLC

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“What the fuck…” I whispered.

Chapter 26

Here’s the thing.

My dad—he’s a real piece of work. He’s not the charming dad who shows up to all your soccer games, who gives you a reassuring hug after your first big break-up.

No. He’s the sort of dad who hyper-fixates on his next “big break.” His next idea. The type of dad who will do anything to make a buck.

But I loved that idiot.

So, when I saw that deposit in his bank account, you better believe that as soon as I got home, I was back inside his account.

“Private? We’ll see about that,” I whispered, my fingers flying across the keyboard.

A nothing-name. A shell-company name. The sort of name that screamed cover-up.

I knew the customer interface wouldn’t tell me anything. But the backend would. The part only employees were supposed to see.

That might give me what I needed.

A dull, gray administrator screen loaded. No branding. Just rows of numbers.

I opened the $120,000 deposit.

More data spilled out. I groaned. Most of it was meaningless strings of numbers. Until one line stuck out at me:

Source Verification Token: 11A4-CA–7429

My pulse spiked.

CA.

California.

I smirked. This was exactly what I needed. Then I felt a buzz in my pocket. I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen.

Diamond Montgomery

Wear the dress I sent.

Put your hair up.

Same time.

—The Curator

It looked like they weren’t going to cancel the arrangement after all—despite me being caught red-handed. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door and opened it.

A man stood there, holding out a dress. Beige, strapless. He was also holding out a pair of tall white high heels. I smiled and took the items.

I quickly dressed and put on a few bits of makeup. Then I slicked my hair into a high bun. I made my way out of my apartment and down to the car that was waiting.

Surprisingly, when the car arrived at the Diamond Montgomery, Nora was waiting in the front lobby.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said, one eyebrow raised.

Her face didn’t change. It never did. She held out a keycard and I took it.

“I have something to give you when you are done,” she said flatly. “I’ll wait down here.”

“Well, obviously, Nora. Surely you’re not joining in on the fun.” I replied. Then I laughed.

She didn’t…

I made my way to the elevator and up to the top floor. There wasn’t a blindfold on the knob. I smiled. It looked like I was allowed to see them again.

I knocked.

“Come in,” I heard Dr. Creed call out.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. I looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. I walked toward the bedroom and slowly opened the door, peering around to look inside.

What I saw excited me. It made my pussy ache. My body beg.

There they were. Sitting in a row on the side of the bed. Naked. Waiting. Their masks covering their faces.

“We don’t have much time tonight,” Vale grunted. “So get over here so we can fuck you.” He was already holding on to his cock, his blue eyes staring back at me through the holes of his mask. He was stroking it, watching me.

My pussy was soaked already. I was ready to take all three of their hard cocks.

Dr. Creed sat in the middle, his posture relaxed. He laughed lightly, “Keep it together Vale.” His eyes were on me, “It’s true though, so lets get started.”

The Curator was at the end, his posture more stiff. His green eyes were dark as he watched me. Hungry. Lustful. His eyes always did give him away. My eyes trailed down their bodies. Taunt muscles. Perfect skin.

I walked over to The Curator. I wanted him first. I stepped close to him and turned. I lifted my dress up. I felt his fingers reach for my thong and pull it to the side. Then, I looked back at his massive cock, trying to position myself to land in the correct place.

He reached out and gripped my waist, guiding me down. I moaned and my eyes widened as I sank onto his giant cock. I was so wet already, that it slid in with ease.

“Bounce,” he ordered.

And I did. I gripped onto his muscular forearms to brace myself. Then I lunged up and down, sinking slowly at first.

“Don’t be scared,” The Curator murmured in my ear. “Take a little at a time until you get used to it.”

I whimpered as I lunged up and back down again, “It’s too big.”

“It’s a very deep position but you’ve taken my dick before baby,” he purred. “Come on, ride it like that.”

“Yes, sir.” I said, voice breaking. I continued my movements, allowing his dick to stretch me in all the right places.

“There you are baby,” he said. “You’re so wet, it makes it so much easier.”

“Am I good slut?” I moaned. His big cock felt so good. The way it filled me up. Warm and hard.

“Yes,” he said chuckling. “Vale?”

I turned to see Vale motion towards his dick, directing me to ride him. “Yes, sir,” I said, standing and allowing The Curator’s slick penis to slide out of me.

I moved to Vale, sinking down slightly on his cock. Only the tip had gone in. “God,” I whimpered. “They’re all so big.”

Vale gripped onto my waist, jerking me down and fully entering me. He pulled my waist upwards and back down again, his fingers digging into my waist. The motions became harder. “Oh God!” I screamed, pleasure and pain coursing through me as I bounced on his dick. My tits had fallen out of my strapless dress. They were moving up and down, with his motions.

“Ride me like that,” Vale moaned. “Look at that thick ass boys.”

“Me,” Dr. Creed said. I turned towards him, still bouncing on Vale’s dick. I was moaning, my mouth dropped open. But I managed to nod and speak, “Y-Y-Yes, sir.”

Vale’s released his grip on me and allowed me to come to a stop. I moved upwards, his cock sliding out of me. I immediately wanted to be filled again.

I made my way to Dr. Creed and positioned myself above his dick. He let me do the work. I sank down and we moaned together. This time, I let the dick stay inside of me and I rocked back and forth, letting his cock stretch the walls of my vagina. I whimpered, my eyes shut tightly.

“Just like that Sloane,” I heard The Curator say. I opened my eyes to see him turning to watch us.

“She rides it well,” Dr. Creed said. I felt his hand move to my thigh before stopping at my knee.

I was tilting my head back, my eyes on the ceiling. My mouth open as my moans continued. His fingers were running along the top of my knee.

For a moment, I was so engrossed in my pleasure, that I almost didn’t notice it.

The way he was rubbing small circles on my knee…

“I really am low on time boys-we all are,” I heard Vale say. He stood up and moved to in front of me.

He reached out and took hold of my waist, pulling me off of Dr. Creed’s cock.

“Rude,” Dr. Creed laughed. Vale ignored him and pulled me closer to him. He tugged on me so hard, that I stumbled forward and landed against his tattooed chest. And what a chest it was. My hands slid up it. Large and muscular.

“No time for that,” Vale grunted. He spun me around and pushed me forward towards the bed. I landed face first on the mattress, with a small squeal of surprise.

And then he was inside of me. Hot and sticky from my moisture. He thrust deep inside of me and then back out again. Soon, his motions were hard and fast. His large hands were on my waist and he was fucking me like an animal.

“So-so..ah,” I moaned. “Big.”

“Yes, it is big,” Vale moaned as he continued to plunge into me. “And you will take all of it.” I was gasping for air now, my fingers clutching onto the bed sheets. He was slamming into me so deep and hard, that the pleasure was hard to differentiate from the pain.

Then I felt it. His dick pulsating. He let out a deep moan and one last, hard thrust. Then he pulled away from me. I saw a spray of cum land on the bed sheet beside me. He held himself there for a moment, his breath coming in short bursts.

“I have things to do,” he grunted, giving one of my ass cheeks a firm squeeze. “I didn’t cum in her. You’re welcome boys.”

I stayed there, still reeling from the pain. Just as I was about to stand up, I felt a hand push my head back down again. Then a pair of large hands were on my waist.

“You’re not done yet Sloane,” I heard Dr. Creed said. Then he entered me. Slow at first. I moaned.

Then he began moving rapidly. Hard. Fast. He was pounding into me, his moaning already loud and deep. I felt our skin slap together as he grunted. There was a stinging sensation as his hand slapped my ass, over and over again.

“Fuck,” Dr. Creed moaned. “We fuck her for hours, multiple times. But she still feels like a virgin.”

I felt too good. Too full.

Chapter 27

Then I felt his penis vibrate and he slapped my ass one last time, before pulling out of me and spraying his cum off to the side of the bed.

I felt his hands reach out to massage my ass, “So perfect. But we do need to go.”

I stayed in my position. I was dripping. Anxious for him to get inside of me. I could feel the moisture that had pooled in my vagina, trickling down the side of my leg. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke.

“They’re gone,” he said gently.

I didn’t respond, I just waited for him to fuck me. I felt his hands reach out and pull at the zipper at the back of my dress.

“I want this off,” he murmured. So, I stood and turned. The dress fell to the floor. He leaned forward, his mouth finding one of my nipples.

I sucked in when his warm wet tongue found it. Then, I felt a sharp sting as his teeth nipped at it. I jumped back in surprise.

His eyes were staring back at me.

“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you Sloane?”

“Punish me?” I managed to croak.

“Don’t play pretend,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he reached out to run a finger down the side of my cheek. “You were trying to find out who we are.”

I bit my lip, my heart racing.

“Follow me now,” he said, his voice dropping low. He turned and I stood frozen for a moment. But finally, my feet moved and I obeyed.

He made his way to a nearby closet and opened it, he rummaged around inside and then turned. He was holding the nipple clamps in his hands.

He walked back towards me and reached out, clamping them onto my nipples without hesitation. It stung and bit at my skin.

“Get on your knees,” he said, his voice commanding.

I did what he asked. Kneeling in front of him, the sting of the nipple clamps causing my breathing to become uneven.

“Suck my cock Sloane,” he ordered. He stood there, looking down at me. Expectantly.

I took hold of his dick. God it was big. And smooth. Absolutely perfect. I leaned forward bringing my tongue to his shaft. I dragged it up the length of it, slowly. Taunting him. Teasing him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. I felt his hand reach for the back of my head. He clutched onto my bun. I continued my licking for a few more moments before finally opening my mouth and taking him inside.

He tasted like soap and salt. Delicious. I bobbed my head back and forth, taking all of him into my mouth. I gagged but his dick muffled the sounds.

He was now pushing my head forward at full force and I felt the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat. It put me off balance and I wobbled slightly. His grip on my hair tightened, “Learn to take it Sloane.”

So I did. I took his massive cock in my mouth. Spit dribbling down the side of my mouth. My eyes teary from the constant gagging. Then he pulled on my hair, stepping back as his cock slid out of my mouth.

“Do they hurt?” He said, looking down at me in my kneeling position.

I nodded. It was the truth. Without him fucking me-they were worse. It was different. It wasn’t pain mixed with pleasure-it was just pain.

“Good,” he said, his voice rough. He tugged roughly on my head, leaning downward as he pulled my head back. “Bend over the bed Sloane. And don’t look back.”

He let go of me and I stood to my feet. I bent over the bed. Great, now at least the fucking would start and the nipple clamps would feel a hell of a lot better.

But then…the sound of a whip cracking.

Followed by searing hot pain. I gasped.

“Take it Sloane,” he said. Then another.

“Fuck!” I hissed. Then another. Now he was hovering over me, leaning down so his mouth was at my ear.

“Sloane, you are to do what you are told,” he whispered. It aroused me. Something about this. The way he was controlling me. I felt my pussy throb and scream. He was pulling on my thong, tugging it towards the floor.

Then he leaned back. Another sting. I yelped.

“Tell me that you will behave Sloane,” he said sternly. “And I will fuck that tight pussy until you scream.”

Another one. “I will behave!” I yelled.

Another. “No more trying to find us Sloane.” he ordered.

“No more trying to find you!” I gasped.

There was silence. I didn’t dare look back but I felt him come closer. His hands were on my ass cheeks, his fingers tracing over the places where he had whipped me. I winced.

But then I felt his hands on my waist. Then his cock began to slide into me. Slow and gentle. He rocked in and out of me a few times, his motions soft and careful. I felt his thumb trace over one of the sore spots.

But I loved it. His hard cock sliding into me slowly, mixed with the sensation of his fingers on his marks. Mixed with the pain still soaring through my nipples.

So maybe this was my kink. Pain and pleasure.

“Mmmm,” I heard him murmur. “Such a wet pussy. I saw you dripping when I whipped you. Such a dirty slut.”

I moaned as his dick filled me, his finger still rubbing at the marks. Then I felt him slide out of me.

“Bounce on my ass,” he said gently. I stood up and looked over at him. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his cock fully erect.

“Yes sir,” I said, positioning myself onto his lap, my ass facing him.

“Much more obedient,” he said as I slid onto his dick. His mouth was pressed to my ear. “No more tricks Sloane.”

“No–ah,” I groaned as I moved up and down his thick erection. “No more…tricks.”

Then, I began to bounce up and down on him. I started slow but picked up pace. Soon, the sound of him sloshing in and out of me, sounded around us. Skin slapping skin.

“Just like that baby,” he murmured in my ear as I moaned in pleasure. The nipple clamps were swinging wildly as my breasts jiggled. “Let me fill you up baby.”

“Cum..” I groaned. “Inside me, please.”

He chuckled, “You did say please. Such good manners.” I felt his fingers reach forward and find my clit. He began rubbing it, in small circular motions.

My pleasure was mounting. “Oh God!” I screamed.

I felt his lips on my shoulder. He was planting soft kisses there. Then, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. He was biting me.

“Fuck!” I hissed.

“Submit to the pleasure Sloane,” he whispered. “Let your body feel release.”

Then I screamed. Loud. Hard. I was sure the entire city heard. The orgasm smashed into me, so hard I stopped my motions.

“No,” he said sternly, now gripping my waist and helping me continue. “Ride it out.”

I continued to bounce as my orgasm peaked, my fingernails digging into his wrists. I felt the moisture coating his dick. He was moaning. Low. Slow. I felt his dick twitch.

Then he released inside of me. Warm, hot and heavy. And I loved it. I bounced until he finished. When he had, I sank back down and stayed there, trying to catch my breath. Leaning back against his sweat covered chest.

He didn’t try to take me off either. Instead his mouth was on my ear again.

“Any more problems from you and we will have to have a very stern talk,” he muttered. He reached forward and undid the nipple clamps, tossing them off to the side.

“How did you get past my first wall Sloane?” he said. We were still sitting there, his dick inserted firmly inside of my vagina. As if this were a normal thing to do when one has a conversation with someone about hacking into their platform.

“I…” I swallowed. His fingers were now on my tits, rubbing the tips of my sore nipples. “I don’t remember.”

He chuckled, “Your messages were…very drunk.”

“I was,” I held my breath as his mouth found my neck. He was sucking softly at the skin there. God, I wanted him to fuck me again.

“Well, let’s make sure you don’t suddenly remember how you did it,” he said, his hands now clutching my waist. He pulled upwards and slid out of me.

I turned to look at him, waiting for his next direction.

“I’m in big trouble,” he sighed. “I stayed back and kept playing. We all needed to be somewhere awhile ago. See you later Sloane.” He reached down to pick up my clothing and handed it to me.

I nodded and took the clothing. I slipped it on as he watched me.

“Thanks, or I mean,” I shrugged. “I never know what to say.”

“Good night Sloane,” he said. His voice was back to that same flat, monotone voice that he used around the other men.

I smiled, “Goodnight.”

Then, I left. My pussy raw and swollen. And full of cum.

Chapter 28

I had gone home and had a long shower, washing my sore pussy clean again. There was only one week left in the contract. I wondered when I would see them all again.

Before I had gotten back in the car to go home, Nora had given me two black gift boxes. I hadn’t opened them yet.

I sank onto my couch, my hair wrapped in a towel.

As if he were reading my mind, my phone buzzed.

Remember what I said, Sloane.

—The Curator

I smiled. I wasn’t sure why. But I loved knowing that I had almost broken through his walls. The Curator hadn’t liked what I did, but I got a thrill out of knowing that I had almost outdone him—while heavily intoxicated.

I pulled the gold bow off the black gift box and opened it. The box itself had been fancy enough, but even the inside was luxurious. It smelled like leather and perfume.

I pushed the tissue paper out of the way. My eyes widened.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

A necklace. A thin golden chain that looked like buttery gold. Two diamond-studded emblems hung on the bottom of it. I was pretty sure this was Chanel.

I took out my phone and took a photo. Then I popped it into Google’s image search engine. My phone loaded onto the next screen, and my jaw dropped.

$16,534

For just one necklace? I shook my head. These men spent money like it was nothing.

I opened the second box, pushing the tissue aside to reveal the next gift.

There it was. Shiny. Glossy. Pink. Bejeweled.

A vibrator.

I blinked. What in the world?

Folded neatly beside it was a small note. I opened it and read it. It had gold lettering printed onto black paper.

Sloane,

Use this when you are alone and thinking about us.

You are going to carry it in your purse. And use it when I tell you to.

—The Curator

I snorted and picked it up. It was light in my hand. He wouldn’t know if I was using it or not… would he?

---

The next day at work, I sat in the conference room. I was wearing another designer dress that I had bought with the company card. I had decided to wear the Chanel necklace too. Why not? It was pretty.

Delilah was sitting next to me, chomping on a piece of gum, casting dark looks in my direction. Yup, she still hated me.

“Is that the new Chanel design?” she said, leaning forward to peer at it. “I thought they hadn’t released this design yet. How the fuck did you get it?”

I groaned internally before turning to look at her. “It was a gift.”

“From who?” Delilah whispered. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

I froze, my words escaping me as I stumbled to lie.

“Good morning,” a voice said.

Every voice in the room came to an instant stop. Heads turned to look.

It was Axel Lockridge. I felt my legs turn to mush. He was gorgeous. Sandy blonde hair. Light blue eyes. He was wearing a light, airy shirt in an off-white shade, casually unbuttoned at the top. Tastefully undone.

And he was tasty too. Good God.

No wonder Delilah was now sitting tall, her eyes glued to him. She seemed to have forgotten about my necklace.

My eyes traced along his exposed skin, resting on the tips of the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. I couldn’t make out any of them. Then my eyes traveled back up.

And my eyes met his.

I immediately looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with the pen on the table in front of me.

“Excuse me,” a voice said. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Mr. Lockridge had walked over to me. He was now pointing at the chair next to me. I nodded, my words stuck in my throat.

He sat next to me and looked over at me. “Thanks.”

I swear the women around me collectively gasped. I just smiled and turned to look at the smartboard.

Someone was presenting information about workplace safety procedures. It was drier than burnt toast. The lady presenting was halfway through her bit about fire exits when I heard Mr. Lockridge whispering to me.

“Do you have a spare pen, Sloane?” he said, holding up his own. “Mine’s gone out of ink.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re taking notes?”

He stared at me blankly. “This is important. To keep everyone safe.”

I quickly changed my expression. “Yes, of course it is.” I opened my pencil bag, took one out, and held it out to him.

He reached for it. Somehow he dropped it, and it fell to the ground.

“I’ll get it,” he said before I could even think about picking it up.

He leaned downward toward the pen. My eyes were fixed on the screen.

Then I felt it. On the inside of my ankle.

A hand.

Someone’s palm on the inside of my ankle. It was moving up. Slowly, intentionally. I looked down just as the hand moved off my leg.

Mr. Lockridge straightened up, holding the pen. He nodded and turned back to the screen.

But my heart was thudding. Had he done that intentionally?

Yes.

Yes, he had.

Just like Mr. Hernandez.

What was up with these men? They thought because they were insanely hot and richer than the Kardashians, they could just do whatever they wanted?

Because after he touched me like that, my panties were wet.

So yeah, maybe they could do what they wanted.

I tried to still my breathing. Tried to somehow rationalize this. Hadn’t I ridden three massive cocks last night? Was that not enough?

Was I insane?

I felt my phone buzz and tapped on the screen.

Use the vibrator.

Right now.

-The Curator

He couldn’t possible know whether or not I did-right? But still, I picked up my purse and slung it over my shoulder. I turned to Delilah, “Just running to the restroom.”

She gave me a ‘who fucking cares’ look before turning back to the screen. I stood to my feet and headed towards the exit.

Before I left, I looked back at the table. Mr. Lockridge was staring at me. His eyes dark.

And oddly familiar.

I left, heading towards my office at full speed. I stepped inside and locked it behind me. Then, I sat at my office chair and pulled the vibrator from my purse. I pulled up the hem of my dress and slipped the vibrator underneath.

I slid it under my panties. Then, I flicked it to full blast. I pressed it on my throbbing clit and sighed as the cool metal pressed against it.

Sweet relief.

I moaned and sighed, leaning my head back on my chair, enjoying the vibrations. I thought about their hard cocks and I pressed the vibrator more firmly against myself.

Then I heard it. The knob of my door. It was turning.

But I had locked it.

I gasped and flicked the vibrator to off, just as the door opened. I heard it fall to the floor with a hard thud. I could hear it rolling but there was no time to stop it.

Mr. Drake was standing there.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were in here. I was just coming to grab my notebook. I accidentally left it in here the other day.”

I smiled politely, “Great.” I slid my hand out from under my dress and placed it on top of my desk.

“Sloane?” he said, walking forward. In my direction. “Why aren’t you there?”

I didn’t really think before I spoke. I just spoke.

“I needed a mental health break,” I said, shrugging. “I thought a quiet place would be best.”

He blinked, as if digesting my words. Then he took a few more steps forward. Then to my great horror, he looked down.

“What’s this?”

And then he stood-holding the vibrator in his hand.

Oh fuck.

“A..that would be,” I stuttered. “My massage wand.”

“Hmm,” he said cocking an eyebrow at it. “Haven’t seen one like this before.”

He continued forward and placed it gently on the top of my desk. His eyes met mine, “So what exactly does it massage Miss Heathrow?”

“My neck,” I smiled. “Great for stress relief.” Then, for reasons unknown, I picked it up. And placed it on my neck before flicking it on. I held it there. Letting it buzz and blast at full volume.

He watched me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“See you back at the meeting Sloane.”

Sloane?

The way he said it…it gave me Deja Vu.

Chapter 29

That evening, I found myself at Georgie’s apartment. She had begged me to come over. I had been avoiding her for a while now, as I did not want to answer her questions.

“So, you are telling me that you had a random hookup with a guy at work?” she said, her head tilted as she studied me. “That is very spicy of you, Sloane. I didn’t expect that!”

If only she knew…

I nodded. “It was just a few times. It’s over now.”

It stung, telling her a lie. But I couldn’t tell her the truth.

She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “But… was it good? Was his dick big?”

I smiled. “Stop it, Georgie.”

She laid back on her sofa dramatically, letting out a long sigh. “I thought you were never going to lose your virginity. I was worried you might join a convent.”

“Oh, come on,” I laughed. “I wasn’t that much of a prude.”

She sat up and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Yes, you were.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to my laptop. I had brought it with me so I could keep looking into Dad’s whereabouts while Georgie caught up on The Voice.

Georgie and I often did this. Sometimes, it was enough to just be near one another. I watched as she turned to the TV as the next singer stepped onto the stage.

“Honestly, the battles were a joke,” she sighed. “And the knockouts aren’t looking great either.”

But she wasn’t paying attention to me as she spoke. I was already plugging away on my laptop, making my way back through the trail I had found before. Until I located it again. The token.

Source Verification Token: 11A4-CA–7429

“There you are,” I muttered under my breath.

I attacked it, throwing everything I had at it in an attempt to get some semblance of a breadcrumb.

And this time—I broke through. A tiny expandable arrow appeared. I clicked. A hidden metadata pane unfolded, flickering erratically and then fading into font.

ENTITY REGISTRATION: 548A HOLDINGS

STATE OF ORIGIN: CA

BUSINESS CLASSIFICATION: LOCKRIDGE FINANCIAL SERVICES

My breath caught.

Lockridge? Like Mr. Lockridge?

I frowned. Then I opened Google and searched the business classification.

It didn’t take long. The results loaded in less than a second. Lockridge Financial Services wasn’t just a firm. It was an umbrella that covered half the damn financial district.

Lockridge Trust.

Lockridge Capital Management.

Lockridge Wealth Division.

Lockridge National Bank.

I kept scrolling.

“One of America’s largest privately held banking families.”

“Specializing in discreet high-value transfers.”

I sighed. So basically, the Lockridges owned most of the banking industry in the country. So it was likely that their name would be stamped on my dad’s transaction. And given that the transaction was high-value, it made sense.

But I continued to dig. I scrolled through the corporate website and opened a cached PDF buried deep within.

“Bingo,” I smiled.

PRIMARY ENTITY: LKR PRIVATE ASSET DIVISION

ACCESS: EXECUTIVE FAMILY ONLY

“And… I am definitely not meant to be here,” I breathed.

Georgie turned to look at me, her mouth now full of potato chips. “What are you getting into now?”

“A wealthy family’s private bank account,” I said, my eyes not moving from the screen.

“Should I pretend that I didn’t hear that?” She raised an eyebrow at me. Georgie knew about my secret hobby, and it had never bothered her. But she liked to pretend she didn’t know it was illegal.

“You didn’t hear shit,” I said, tapping on a new bit of code I had located.

A second metadata pane unfolded, even more corrupted than the first.

TRANSFER RECORD: 120K — OUTGOING

DISCREET ROUTE: LKR PRIVATE ASSET DIVISION → 548A HOLDINGS → THIRD-PARTY PERSONAL DESTINATION

I froze.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

Georgie leaned sideways. “What?”

I zoomed in on the final line, my pulse racing.

Source Verification Token: 11A4-CA–7429

The exact same token.

The same one that had appeared in my father’s bank history.

“It’s the deposit,” I breathed.

She choked on her chips. “You’re kidding.”

They had gone to the lengths of using a private account owned by the Lockridge family. Not that the ownership mattered that much when the Lockridges owned most of the banking industry.

But why?

---

The work week had rolled onward. There were only a few days left in the contract. I was wondering why I had not received another invitation from The Curator. I tried not to let it bother me as I soldiered on.

I was at my desk, analyzing the code that I had been working on. The one that I had almost broken through. The one that Aaron and his team had failed to conquer.

I was skimming through the code for what seemed like the thousandth time and was becoming highly familiar with the code’s language. Particularly the parts that Mr. Drake was responsible for.

His pattern was the neatest and smoothest. I had worked out which code belonged to which person: Mr. Drake, Mr. Hernandez, and Mr. Lockridge.

Mr. Drake had a smooth, elegant way of coding—like a form of art. He was easily the strongest coder of the three. Mr. Hernandez tended to be sloppier, applying patches along the way. Strong patches, but his cracks were easier to find. Mr. Lockridge had a very aggressive method, fast and brutal. He didn’t leave much room for understanding.

I was in the thick of it when there was a knock on my door. Per usual, Delilah swung it open without waiting for permission.

She walked up to me, a picture of perfection in a powder-pink blazer and white dress. Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat updo. She stopped in front of my desk and gave me an I am only here because I have to be sort of look.

“Mr. Drake won’t be meeting with you today for an update on your project,” she said flatly. “Or for any meetings this week. The CEOs had to fly out of state to take care of something. They’re in New York. They’ll be back Monday.”

I smiled. “Thanks.” My eyes were already back on my screen.

I could feel her eyes on me as she stood there, as if she wanted to say something. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

“Bitch,” I whispered under my breath, my hands now sliding along the keyboard again.

---

That evening, I was just walking through my front door when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

Sloane,

Your contract ends this week.

We wanted to give you a proper goodbye, but unfortunately, we have other commitments.

The money will be wired to your account within 15 business days.

Thank you for your time with us.

–The Curator

I gasped. “Other commitments?”

I leaned against the nearest wall, my eyes glued to the message. I wasn’t sure what I felt. Rejection? Confusion? Sadness? He had messaged as if it wasn’t a big deal. Ending it all without a goodbye.

“I guess I’m a millionaire now,” I breathed, my stomach sinking.

In California, where I was living and working, everything cost an arm and a leg. I planned to buy a small house or apartment—with a room for Georgie. It would take up most of the cash, but then I’d still be left with a nest egg of money and my own place.

But still. The emptiness bloomed in the pit of my stomach.

How could I go from being a virgin to having an affair with three men all at once? How would I ever have a normal relationship, when I had been pleasured in a way that most women only dreamed of?

And the men… I wanted to keep seeing them. Even with the contract ending. I was obviously a nutcase, but it was true.

I stared at the message, my mind racing.

“Don’t do it,” I whispered to myself. The image of the dark web ad appeared in my mind.

Why?

Because I loved it. The thrill. I wanted to know more about who they were. I had read my contract. There was nothing in there about not hacking into their dark web ad.

Next thing I knew, I had picked up my laptop, sat down on my couch, and gone into my encrypted workspace again.

“Just a peek,” I whispered, even though I knew damn well I was lying to myself.

I navigated through the layers I’d broken through before—not that I remembered doing it. The buried directories and gateways. Like little trapdoors.

The dark web page flickered onto my screen. Their ad.

They had removed it after our contract started, but I had gone into the site’s archived files and retrieved it.

The same black backdrop and gold lettering. But something was different this time. A line of fractured code blinked near the footer of the page.

My pulse raced.

I grinned.

“Where did you come from?” I smirked.

TRACE COMPLETE: 47%

Then the screen froze for a moment. Then it flickered. The screen became solid black. Then, gold letters appeared on the screen.

Aren’t we curious tonight?

–The Curator

I grinned. This time, I wouldn’t stop.

I navigated through his gateways with ease, and the message disappeared. I found the fractured code again.

TRACE COMPLETE: 68%

The pages shook and the black screen reappeared. Gold lettering re-emerged.

Careful, Sloane.

You’re tugging on threads that don’t like to be pulled.

–The Curator

“Yeah, fuck you,” I smirked. I attacked again, navigating around him once more, the screen quickly disappearing.

TRACE COMPLETE: 88%

The code was seamless. I was impressed. Smooth and irritatingly elegant. But I loved it. The challenge.

Stop, Sloane.

Now.

His screen didn’t last long and soon dissolved.

I had made my way to a new section—but it wasn’t flawless. Something had been overlooked. I pulled up the raw code. I skimmed it, my eyes tracing over it.

And then I froze.

No. Way.

There it was—a sequence I somehow knew. Something familiar. A sequence that I had seen a hundred times before. One I had almost broken through. A signature hidden in the code, written in the exact same style, with the same spacing.

The same coder.

I inhaled sharply.

“That’s impossible,” I whispered.

But it wasn’t.

if null, reroute to fallback.

if fallback fails, trigger redirect. // drk override protocol

drk.

Drake.

My stomach lurched.

Mr. Drake…

Author’s Note:

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Chapter 30

My plan was simple.

Revenge.

As soon as I had discovered that the coder was most definitely Mr. Drake, all of the pieces had fallen together.

Adrian Drake was The Curator. Vale was Axel Lockridge. Dr. Creed was Luca Hernandez.

The way Mr. Drake had walked in while I was using my vibrator. The tattoo. The way Mr. Hernandez had touched my knee in my office-the same thing he did when I was riding his dick. Mr. Lockridge touching my ankle and the way he became so aggressive with Aaron.

It all made sense.

I felt nothing but pure rage.

And sadness.

Because I knew underneath it all, that I had begun to develop feelings for the men-no matter how fucked up the whole thing was. So it stung a bit harder than I anticipated.

It was The Curator-or Mr. Drake-who hurt the most. I had felt a connection with him, something that was different than what I felt when I was with the others.

Had I really received my job, my position, all of my job benefits—authentically? Or had I been handed my role? Yes, I was a skilled coder, but was the sandbox trial even real?

After I had hacked through The Curator’s barriers, I had backtracked, covering my tracks so that The Curator would not know that I had broken through.

A mirage. A lie.

Something he was very familiar with…

He would think that Sloane Heathrow had failed yet again to crack his code. But he was wrong.

They had placed me into a job where I was at their fingertips the entire time. Knowing exactly who I was. I felt deceived. Couldn’t they have left me in the basement? On a moral level, that would have been a better choice. Not handing me a job.

I had spent my weekend plotting my revenge. And it would be sweet.

It was easy—fuck with their heads.

Seduce them. In the office. One by one. Then—I would turn them against one another.

While I was at it, I would finish cracking the unbreakable code at BD Systems. Now that I had made it through The Curator’s wall, I knew exactly what to do.

So here I was, sitting at my desk on Monday morning. I was knee-deep in the code, just at the tail end. I smiled and clicked on the last string. And just like that—I had broken through. I leaned back and grinned.

I had broken the unbeatable code at BD Systems.

“Maybe I was a good hire after all,” I shrugged.

My phone buzzed and I looked at it. It was Mr. Drake. I answered, my voice polite and professional. “Hello, Mr. Drake.”

“Miss Heathrow,” he said. It was the first time I had heard his voice since the week before. He had just arrived in California this morning after his trip to New York. I could hear hints of The Curator’s voice in his. The tone, the way he rolled his tongue over his vowels.

He had done well masking his voice when he was fucking me. It had been deeper, more gravelly. But I could hear the similarities now.

“Congratulations,” he continued. “I just got the notification. One I have never received before. You breached the software.”

“BD Systems can no longer claim that their systems are unbreakable,” I said sweetly.

I heard him chuckle on the other end. I tried to ignore the tingle that ran along my spine.

“Meet me in my office in half an hour?” he asked. “I’m heading back to the office now.”

“No problem,” I said kindly before ending the call.

I looked down at the phone in my hand. “Also—fuck you.”

I prepared my notes and thirty minutes later, I was at his office door, my laptop cradled under one arm.

Today, I had gone all out. I’d taken the company card and gone on a massive shopping spree with Georgie. This time, I bought more than ever before.

As for the price—I didn’t care.

I had done everything possible to look as sexy as humanly possible, with Georgie’s help. I was wearing a luxury designer dress that cut off at the knees. It pretended to be workplace-appropriate with its long sleeves and high neckline. But it clung to every curve. Appropriate for the office…but only just.

Georgie had styled my curls into long, sleek waves. She’d also done a winged eyeliner and smoky eye. I had never looked like this at work before.

I straightened my back and knocked on his door, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

It opened. There he stood.

Crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. Tailored trousers. His bright green eyes, his thick brown hair. God damnit, he was hot.

But I could see it now. The Curator.

I hadn’t seen it before. Why? Because who in their right mind would think that they had hired me to work for them without telling me who they were? Without telling me that they were the ones who took turns fucking me?

My mind had never travelled there before. To such an impossibility.

But I could see it now. And despite my desire to punch this man in the face, my pussy throbbed. But who could blame me?

His eyes dragged down the length of my body before making their way back to my face. I smiled sweetly at him. “May I come in?”

His eyes were still scanning me as he stepped back. “Yes, please do.” He shut the door behind me gently before turning to me and motioning towards his desk. He began making his way towards it, but I stepped back slightly. I discreetly locked the door. He didn’t notice.

He sank into his chair at his desk, and I sat at the one across from it. A small whiskey glass sat on his desk, a few ice cubes floating along the top. He saw me looking at it.

“It was a long flight,” he sighed. “We didn’t have a second to even relax.”

I bit the inside of my lip, willing myself to speak. To be bold. “I think you owe me a drink. After I cracked your code and all that.”

He looked at me, his face blank. Such a perfect face, too. Smooth skin. Strong jawline. Then, I saw his mouth twitch into a smile before he spoke. “Sure thing, Miss Heathrow. But don’t tell anyone.”

He stood to his feet, and I caught his scent. But this time, I really paid attention. Fresh, clean.

Yup.

The Curator. It made sense. All the times I had felt aroused in his presence. My mind had recognised the sensory inputs. The familiarity.

I watched as he walked over to the mini-bar in the corner of his office. He reached out and poured me a drink before leaning down to open a cabinet. It revealed a small mini-fridge. He scooped out some ice, plopped it inside and walked over to me.

He handed it to me. I reached out to take it, but I made sure our fingers brushed against one another. He seemed to flinch slightly, but then he straightened and sat back down in his chair.

I sipped on the drink and waited for him to speak.

“So, Sloane, show me what you’ve done,” he smiled, folding his hands neatly on top of his desk. I took another sip, set the drink down and opened my laptop. I turned it so he could see the screen.

“I think you can tell simply by having a skim of this code,” I said, pointing to the screen. “Here and here.”

He scrunched his brow, his eyes on the section. “This is my code.”

I nodded. “I would have never reached it if you had been the only coder. But Mr. Lockridge and Mr. Hernandez led me straight to you.”

“Let me guess, Luca’s sloppy patches?” he said with a sigh.

“They’re durable, but… he can be messy,” I laughed. I saw his eyes flick to my lips. Then he looked up. He noticed that I had noticed.

“Excellent work. This is why we hired you, Sloane,” he said.

“So, it was for my excellent coding skills?” I smiled, taking a sip of my drink. My eyes were frozen on his.

He raised a brow. “Well, yes.” He held his drink and took a few more sips.

“Mmm,” I murmured, leaning forward slightly. “I can prepare a proper presentation and break it down a bit more for you later. Do you have time to help me with it? I’ve never presented something this in-depth.”

He smiled and nodded. “Of course. Can you send me the link? I’ll pull it up on my two monitors.”

“Already did,” I smiled. He smiled back and tapped on his keyboard a few times.

“It’s easier to see like this,” he said, the code now on his large screens.

I stood from my chair and dragged it to the other side of his desk. So my chair was now ribeside his. “Good,” I said lightly, “because now I can see it better too.”

He glanced down at how close I’d placed myself, but didn’t comment.

I sat down. Our knees were touching. Softly. Barely.

When I leaned in to look at the code, my knee pushed harder against his. Firmer. I could feel him register it. He paused mid-scroll.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned toward me.

The movement brought him inches away. Close enough that he would have to consciously choose to pull back.

He didn’t.

Instead, his eyes moved from the monitor… to my knee against his… and then to my face.

“Better view?” he asked, voice low, a hint of something dark laced in his tone.

I knew that voice.

The Curator.

I lifted my chin, pretending I hadn’t felt the jolt that ran up my leg. “Much,” I murmured.

His eyes darkened.

I knew that look.

Chapter 31

His face turned back to the monitor, his eyes scanning the code.

He wouldn’t get away that easily.

I stood to my feet and bent slightly forward, resting one palm on his desk. My other hand was pointing at the screen, “You’re just skimming it. You need to get a lot closer.”

His eyes froze. I saw his hands go still. He was reacting.

“See, this is the problem,” I pointed to a bit of code, leaning forward a bit further. I wanted my ass to pop out-just enough. Just enough to make him go insane.

“Miss Heathrow,” he said, his voice still using that same tone. My panties were soaking now. My core was tightening.

I looked down innocently, “Yes?”

“If you stand any closer, we’re going to have a completely different kind of problem,” he said quietly.

“Hmm?” I asked, pretending to be confused. I stood upright and turned towards him. But my heart was smashing into my rib cage.

He turned his chair to fully face me-now both of our knees were touching. His eyes were exactly as they always were-right before he fucked the daylights out of me.

He exhaled sharply and pulled his gaze away. Then he leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Sloane,” he said quietly, like a warning “you need to move back to your side of the desk.”

I blinked innocently. “Do I?”

“Yes.”

He turned and then reached forward, breaking the contact between our knees. Then he rotated both screens outward, so they faced the opposite side of his desk.

A very clear-and very professional-boundary.

I felt defeat wash over me-but not entirely. I had rattled him, I was certain of that.

I smoothed my hands over my dress. “Of course,” I said politely, as if I hadn’t just tried to seduce my boss. As if I wasn’t struggling to maintain a normal heart rate.

He didn’t watch me walk around the desk. Instead, he straightened his back, and his face fell flat. As if he were composing himself.

Only then did he speak again.

“Now,” he said, his voice professional, “walk me through this part here.”

I leaned forward, my expression composed, my voice neutral. I guided him through the code, each patch, each hidden layer I had slipped through. He nodded along, asking questions.

After a few minutes, he closed the file, thanked me, and dismissed me with a polite smile. As if I hadn’t just made a pass at him, hoping he would bend me over his desk and fuck me.

I smiled back, playing along. I walked to the door and left without looking back.

He could put as much distance between us as he wanted. In fact, I loved a challenge. I wanted him to keep trying. I knew I’d break him eventually. The only question was how long he could hold out.

Mr. Drake might have been hard to crack, but he wasn’t my only target.

As I made my way to the elevator, I rang Mr. Hernandez. He answered on the first ring.

“Miss Heathrow,” he said, his voice light and friendly.

“Hi, Mr. Hernandez,” I said sweetly. “I was wondering where you are at the moment. Do you have time for a quick catch-up?”

“Is this about you cracking the code?” he said with a laugh. “I got the notification.”

“Yes, exactly.” I said sweetly.

“Come to level 22,” he said. “I’m actually in the server room. I was checking over a few things. If you don’t mind being in a cave.”

I laughed. It wasn’t funny-what he had said. But I laughed.

“See you soon,” I said before hanging up.

I stepped into the elevator before tapping the button for level 22. My heart was pounding as the doors opened. I stepped out and looked around. I knew where the server rooms were. I had been there multiple times to check on various tech issues.

I made my way down a long hall, smiling politely at people as I passed. I found the server room door and tapped my key card against the panel.

It buzzed.

RESTRICTED ACCESS

I groaned. It looked like I lost my access when I changed positions.

The door swung open and Mr. Hernandez greeted me. His warm brown eyes scanned me from head to toe. “Nice dress,” he said.

I smiled in response. He wore a well-fitted collared shirt that seemed to suction onto his muscular frame. Along with a pair of tailored jeans. His black hair was unstyled and messy.

My vagina was screaming at me already.

I walked forward, gently stepping around him, my shoulder brushing his chest intentionally.

“Sorry,” I said softly, as if it were an accident. I walked forward down a narrow hallway. It led to a glass door framed in steel, glowing with security lights. The access panel beside it pulsed a soft blue. I turned back. He was walking behind me-but his eyes.

They were on my ass.

Dr. Creed had always loved my ass.

His eyes flicked upward. He knew I had caught him. I turned back to the door. He walked up behind me and leaned forward to tap his card. The door swung open and I jumped back and squealed.

I landed against his hard chest. He reached forward instinctively his hands gripping onto the back of my shoulders. I heard him laugh, “You’ve been down here several time, don’t you know it swings open?”

I looked up at him, “I forgot.” I leaned back slightly. He didn’t stop me. Instead, he looked down at me, as if assessing. Then he released his grip on my shoulders.

We walked into the server room. Inside, the temperature dropped immediately. I loved the chill of a server room. It was like stepping into a high-tech winter.

Tall black server racks stood in neat rows, each one lit by thin vertical strips of white LED light. He motioned to a table in the corner. There was a computer motherboard and a few other bits of metal spread out on the table.

“I was just playing around with a couple of ideas,” he smiled. “Thanks for coming down to the cave with me.”

“I did spend most of my career down in the basement,” I smiled sweetly. I walked over to the motherboard he had on top of the table and ran my fingers along the top of it.

“So Miss Heathrow,” he grinned, now leaning against one of the server racks. “You did it. You cracked out code.”

I smiled at him and then stepped towards one of the racks and leaned forward, pretending to examine the lights.

I saw him watching me from the corner of my eyes. I turned and looked at him, “Lucky for me, one of you was a little sloppy. I slipped right through.”

For more effect, I was sure to push my ass out a bit further before turning to continue, “When I see an opening, I always find a way to get inside. It makes work a lot more fun.”

His grin fell from his face. He looked different now. His eyes were more focused. There he was.

Dr. Creed.

I stood upright and walked towards him, stopping a few inches in front of him. I peered up, my gaze meeting his.

“What do you usually do?” I asked, biting my lower lip. He was looking at my mouth now. “When you see an opening? Do you take advantage?” I ran my tongue along my lower lip, my eyes on his.

He smirked, still leaning on the rack as he looked down at me, “What are you doing Miss Heathrow?”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I walked over to the table where his project was. I turned to look at him, my eyes locked on his. I reached under my dress and tugged my panties loose. They fell to the ground. He watched, his face dark.

I gently pushed the pieces of hardware on the table, to the side. I pulled my dress up and then faced the table. I bent over, gripping onto it’s edge.

“I want you to fuck me,” I whispered, looking back at him. I brought my hand to my clit. I began rubbing. Soft and slow. I let out a moan, as he watched me.

In an instant, he was behind me, his hands on my waist. He gripped onto one ass cheek, giving it a tight squeeze. “This is not a good idea,” he muttered.

“Just one time, I just really need a good fuck,” I whimpered as I shook my ass from side to side.

But I already knew I had him.

I could hear him tugging at his belt, followed by the sound of his pants falling to the floor. Then I felt his cock. He pushed inside of me and groaned. I moaned as his warmth filled me.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed. Then he began fucking me, fast and steady. I let out a deep sigh of pleasure. God, it felt so good.

“Sshh,” he said lowly. “Not too loud.”

Our skin was slapping together as he continued. My face was lying flat against the table as I took every inch of him. I loved it. Knowing that I had control. That I was the one who demanded his cock.

“Fuck,” I moaned. “Just like that.”

Chapter 32

I felt his cock vibrate as his fingers reached around to rub my clit. It sent waves of pleasure along my spine as he rubbed in small, soft circles. The table was smashing into the wall as he thrusted into me.

“You like my cock, don’t you?” he moaned. “This is what you needed. A good fuck.”

Then I heard it. The beep. The sound that is made after someone taps their key card against one of the door panels.

“Stop!” I hissed. “Someone is coming in.”

But he didn’t, he only pushed harder into me. I heard him laugh, “Let them.”

I moaned, giving in momentarily to the feeling of his warm cock sliding in and out of my vagina. But I turned to look back at him, “Seriously, someone is coming.”

I heard muffled voices in the background. He smiled and pulled out of me. I stood upright and he tugged on my arm, pulling me behind a row of servers. I heard two sets of footsteps as people began walking down the narrow hall, towards the second door.

He pushed me against a rack at the far end; his chest pressed against my back. I was facing the rack, my cheek pressed against it. He brought his mouth to my ear.

“Your pussy is so tight,” he muttered as he reached down and lifted my dress.

“They’re coming,” I whispered. But he ignored me. I felt him grip onto my waist, and he slid back into me. Slowly. I let out a soft whimper. He continued his motions as I grabbed onto one of the shelves.

“Be quiet,” he whispered into my ear. I nodded. His fingers were on my clit again as another beeping sound rang out. I heard the server door swing open. Then voices.

He didn’t care. He continued to move slowly, in and out of my opening. I wanted to moan, but instead, I closed my eyes and bit my lip.

“So wet,” he whispered in my ear. “Let me fuck this tight pussy. Ignore them. Give in.”

I heard someone speak, “We moved all the servers to this location last year. It made it easier with the cooling system. Plus, it has more space.”

I felt Mr Hernandez’s mouth on my neck. He was sucking on my skin as he continued to rub my clit.

“You said you needed a good fuck, baby,” he whispered, now increasing the speed of his movements. “You are getting what you asked for.”

The voice was still talking, “So then, once we moved these down here, we also moved the tech floor. To try and make access easier.”

A second voice responded, “Right, makes sense. How many are there?”

“Feel free to have a look,” the other person responded. I heard the footsteps drawing closer. But Mr. Hernandez didn’t care. In fact, he stepped back slightly and pulled on my waist, forcing me to bend over while holding onto the rack.

Then he began to really fuck me. Hard. Fast. I wanted to scream. His fingernails were digging into my waist as he moved. I could hear our skin slapping together as moisture dripped down my leg. But the sounds were drowned out by the noise of the servers humming.

I held on tighter to the rack, holding my breath to suppress my moan. Then it happened.

I pulsated and tightened around his cock before the orgasm swept over me. He continued to fuck me as I moaned softly, pressing my mouth against the cold steel of the closest server to help soften the sound. Then I felt warm liquid filling me up. He pushed deep inside of me and held himself there until he had finished.

Then, he slid out of me.

I stood up and turned, frantically pulling my dress back down and putting on my panties. He was straightening out his pants, fastening the button back into place.

He smirked at me and then leaned forward, “Was that the good fuck you were begging for?”

I nodded, and he leaned back. Just as someone turned the corner. It was an older man in a suit. He jumped slightly.

“Sorry, didn’t realise anyone else was in here,” he said, his eyes darting between us. He smiled at Mr. Hernandez, “Down in the cave again, Luca?”

Mr. Hernandez smiled, “Yes, as always.” He pointed to me. “This is Sloane Heathrow. She just cracked our software.”

The man raised his eyebrows as he looked at me, “Are you serious?”

I smiled, “Yes. Today.” I tried to ignore the sensation of Mr. Hernandez’s cum trickling down the inside of my leg.

The man whistled, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

Another man appeared and gave a small wave. Mr. Hernandez and I greeted him.

“We better head off,” The first man said.

“See you later,” Mr. Hernandez replied as I gave a quick wave. They disappeared out of sight and I soon heard the sound of the server room door opening and closing. I turned to look at Mr. Hernandez.

“Are you insane?” I said. “They could have seen us!”

He stepped towards me slowly, his eyes raking my body, “So what?”

He leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his other hand reaching to my ass to give it a firm squeeze. “I’m a CEO. If I want to fuck you in a server room, then I will.” He grinned.

Then he took a few more steps back, “As much as I loved that, I need to get back to work.”

I smiled, feeling the victory sink in.

“As for this,” he said, his voice low and serious. “It never happened Miss Heathrow. Do you understand?”

I nodded, “I understand. It was just one time.”

He smiled and turned, heading back towards the table that had his hardware scattered along the top.

One down, two to go.

---

It was later in the workday, and I was packing up my laptop bag, preparing to head to a meeting. We were meant to review a few new procedures and policies. Boring work stuff.

I knew Mr. Lockridge was on the list of attendees. I planned to sit right next to him, too. I rushed toward my office door. I wanted to be early so I could execute my plan. I made my way to the conference room and entered. There were only a few other early birds, so I made my way to the far end of the conference table and sat down, placing my laptop bag in the seat next to me.

Not long after, the rest of my co-workers began showing up. No one tried to sit next to me, as they assumed the seat was taken. I waited until Mr. Lockridge finally made his way toward the door. I stared at him, waiting for him to look in my direction.

He did.

I smiled and waved toward the chair next to me. He didn’t smile back, but he walked over and sat down once I pulled my bag out of the way.

“Thanks,” he said flatly. But his eyes were dragging down the length of my body.

I leaned forward slightly. “I was pretending to save the seat. There was someone whom I did not want to sit next to me. One of the men in the office… ugh. He’s just so…” I let out a sigh.

His eyes narrowed. “He’s just so what?”

I shrugged. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t say anything.” I opened my notebook and pretended to scribble a few notes.

“Miss Heathrow,” he said, his voice authoritative. “I asked a question. I would like my answer.”

I turned back. “It’s just… he keeps asking me out. On a date.”

I saw his face change. God, he was predictable. His eyes had gone dark—aggressive. His fingers gripped the edges of the table in front of him so tightly that they turned a pale white.

There you are, Vale…

The presenter began speaking, and we both turned to look. Something about a new procedure for asking for a raise. My mind was somewhere else. I leaned to the side and turned to Mr. Lockridge. He looked down at me.

“This is so boring,” I whispered. Then, as his eyes were on mine, I pushed his pen off the edge of the table. It landed right in his lap.

“Sorry,” I whispered quickly, my hand heading straight for the pen. I scooped it up.

But as I did, I was sure to give his cock a tight squeeze. I saw him tense. I pulled back and placed the pen in front of him.

His eyes were on mine. His jaw tight. I smiled and leaned forward, “Sorry about that.”

Then I pushed my chair back slightly and stood up, making my way towards the conference room door. I turned back to look at him. His gaze was on me.

I gave him a wink before walking from the room. I made my way down the hallway, my sense of hearing on full alert. Sure enough, I heard the conference door open and shut. I paused for a moment and then turned.

He was at the end of the hallway, watching me.

Chapter 33

“Can I help you?” I asked innocently, tilting my head to the side. Mr. Lockridge didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the distance between us.

God, he looked good. He wore a dark navy wool suit. Perfectly tailored. His trousers fell in a straight line with a break over polished Oxfords.

He grabbed my hand and jerked me to the side, opening the door to a nearby utility closet. He shut the door behind us and turned to me.

We were surrounded by shelves full of cleaning chemicals and supplies. The cleaner’s desk was in the faraway corner. He stepped towards me and took hold of my waist before picking me up. I let out a small squeal, but I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist.

I buried my face in his neck as he carried me, planting small kisses along his skin. He smelled nice. Like leather and soap. Wordlessly, he placed me on top of the desk, already reaching under my dress to slide my panties out of the way.

My hands had already undone his button and zipper. He tugged on the pants, and they fell to the floor. He stood there, his cock big and hard, his blue eyes full of desire.

He slid in between my legs and gripped my thighs. Then he thrust into me, letting out a deep moan as he did. He paused for a moment.

“I’m going to cum inside of you, Miss Heathrow,” he said, his voice rough and low.

“Yes, Mr. Lockridge,” I said obediently. “You can do anything you want.”

He reached behind me and pulled my zipper down, then tugged at my sleeves. My bra was gone in one swift movement, my breasts now free and exposed.

“Perfect tits,” he said, massaging one gently. I moaned and felt my core tighten.

“So wet,” he breathed. Then the real fucking began. He moved in and out, pounding into me like a wild animal. Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.

“God-f-f-f-fuck me just like that,” I stuttered. My tits were bouncing in time with his movements. I leaned back on the palms of my hands and tightened my legs around him.

I was dripping. I could hear the sloshing sounds as he thrusted into me. His moans mixed with mine. Loud and long. His hands moved to grip my ankles, the palms of his hands rough against my skin. He pulled my legs upwards, resting them on his shoulders.

He was even deeper inside of my vagina now. I was groaning, the pleasure crashing into me.

“I own you right now,” he grunted. “This pussy belongs to me.”

“It does!” I wailed. “It belongs to you. God, don’t stop!”

We ignored the items that were scattered on the floor. We ignored the fact that we were moaning loudly enough for anyone walking by, to hear.

“Such a perfect pussy Miss Heathrow,” he moaned. “So tight. So wet.”

“It’s wet for you,” I managed to croak. His eyes were on my tits as they bounced.

“You take my cock,” he moaned. “Just like that. Let me fuck you how I want.”

I let out a gasp before I exploded on his big cock, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as the pleasure took over me.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “That feels incredible.” He pushed hard and deep until my orgasm was complete. Then, I felt his cock pulsate and twitch. Soon, he burst inside of me, moaning as he filled me up.

And damnit, it felt good.

He pounded into me a few more times before pulling away. He stepped away from me, pulling my legs off of him. I sat there, catching my breath, my legs still wide open. He pulled his pants back on and straightened out his clothing.

He was looking at me still catching my breath. Slowly, he walked towards me and reached out to run a finger from my entrance up to my clitoris. Then, he brought the finger to his mouth and licked it clean.

I wanted him to fuck me again. But he stepped back, his eyes scanning me.

“That was fun. Now compose yourself and get back to the meeting Miss Heathrow,” he said.

I watched as he walked away from me before sliding off the desk and straightening out my dress. I smirked.

Two down-one to go.

I stepped out of the utility closet, turning to head back towards the conference room. Mr. Lockridge was partway down the hallway. He moved around someone standing in his way, giving them a polite nod before disappearing around the corner.

It was Delilah. She returned his nod with a smile and then turned her gaze to me.

I continued walking forward with no intention of stopping to chat to her. But as I went to move around her, I felt a hand on my arm. It was her. She was holding onto it, preventing me from stepping forward.

“Some women get ahead with talent. Others… well, I guess we all heard your strategy.”

Her eyes stared into mine. But this time it wasn’t jealousy or irritation. It was pure hate. I pulled away from her and stepped back.

“Stay in your role, stay in your lane, and stay out of my business.”

I turned my head, walking away from her and back into the conference room.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath.

---

The next morning, I heard a knock on my apartment door. Squinting, I pushed myself up, waiting for my vision to focus. The knock came again.

“Coming,” I groaned.

I glanced at the clock. 5:00 A.M.

Great. Perfect.

I trudged to the door, fully prepared to punch the fuck out of whoever had woken me up. But when I opened it, I gasped.

“Dad?” I sputtered.

He stood there in the hallway. In the flesh. He was smiling and holding out a small gift box with a pink bow.

My jaw dropped.

“I thought you were dead,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and yanking him inside before the neighbors saw. I slammed the door shut and turned on him.

He lifted the box again like it was some kind of peace treaty. “I… uh… got you something.”

“Don’t you come in here with a gift thinking I’ll just forgive you,” I snapped, hands on my hips.

He sighed. “I deserve that.”

“What the fuck Dad?” I asked, stepping closer. “What the hell happened? I saw your bank transactions, just so you know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his hand shaking. “I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.”

I laughed. “There’s always a choice.”

He shifted nervously from foot-to-foot.

I rolled my eyes. “Explain. Now.”

He hesitated, then sank onto my couch like his legs couldn’t hold him. “Some… men came to see me.”

My stomach sank. “What men?”

“Rich guys. In suits.” He shrugged, “They, uh… offered me money. To leave you. To never come back.”

I just stared at him as he spoke.

“I’m a shit dad,” he said quietly. “I figured maybe you’d be better off if I got out of your life. And they…they roughed me up some, to make sure I understood it was my only choice.”

My jaw clenched. “Are you saying they hurt you?”

“Just enough to get their point across.” He said. “Acted like damn mobsters. Real criminals.”

“Criminals?” I repeated, shaking my head. “No way.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” I said, “I know who likely did this. And trust me…they’re not criminals.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Then who was it?”

I met his eyes, “I’m not telling you.”

He reached out and rested one hand on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, I know mobsters when I see them. I’ve been in and out of prisons my whole life.”

“You have no clue,” I laughed.

“If these are friends of yours-then I suggest you get new ones,” he said, his voice serious. “Safer ones.”

I scoffed, “You’re a criminal, and I still hang around you.”

He shook his head, “I’m not like them.”

I rolled my eyes, “They’re a bunch of coding nerds Dad. Not mobsters. They’re just rich and cocky.”

He sighed and walked to my kitchen counter, setting the gift down. Then he turned to me.

“I’m going to go now sweety,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for waking you up so early.” He was walking towards my apartment door.

“Wait,” I groaned. “Where are you staying?”

He shrugged, “I have friends here and there. And some leftover cash.”

“Just text me ok?” I sighed.

“Sure, thing kiddo,” he nodded. Then he went out the door.

“Mobsters?” I whispered to myself as I latched the lock back into place. “Yeah right.”

Chapter 34

Mobsters. He actually said mobsters. I had thought the idea was insane earlier, but it still played in my mind.

Mobsters. Mobsters. Mobsters.

I’d spent the day with Georgie, wandering around the city. She’d caught me up to speed on her newest romances over a bowl of ramen and a few beers.

I kicked off my shoes as soon as I walked inside, tossed my keys on the counter, and collapsed onto my couch with a sigh. Then I opened my laptop.

“Why am I checking?” I muttered.

I typed fast, my fingers moving on autopilot.

First: the men’s public business records. As expected, they were clean. Not a trace of any odd activities. Then: deeper. I gained access to encrypted systems and locked directories.

Nothing stuck out to me at first. Just inconsistent file paths… weird renaming patterns… timestamps that didn’t align.

But then something caught my attention. I blinked.

A series of old financial transfers buried under several layers of security. Each labeled with a three-letter code:

DRK

LCK

HRN

I sucked my breath in. It was them.

I clicked onto a file. A list of payments appeared on the screen—except they weren’t routed through the corporate bank. They were routed through offshore accounts disguised as consultant reimbursements.

And one note, dated around the same time my father disappeared:

Compensation delivered.

No further contact.

I stared. My throat tightened. This was about my dad.

I kept digging. Even deeper into the files. I found another log.

Refused to accept payout.

Escalated.

Interference permanently neutralised.

A cold shiver crawled up my arms. There weren’t just payouts. This one looked like…a clean-up.

I opened a GPS file. Coordinates were pinned to places around the city. Old, abandoned warehouses. A remote dockyard.

I clicked the next folder—HRN. They were video files this time.

A video played on the screen. The footage was grainy. A man appeared to be tied to a chair, fabric tied around his mouth. The voices were muffled, but I could hear someone ordering him to “cooperate.”

I slapped the laptop closed.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

A sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. I froze. Another knock sounded. It was firm and confident, like the person knew I was inside.

I approached the door carefully, peeking through the peephole. My heart slammed into my chest.

Mr. Drake. Standing in my hallway. At night. At my apartment.

I yanked the door open an inch, peering through the gap. The chain lock was still attached. I wasn’t taking my chances.

“Mr. Drake?” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. Politely. Appropriately.

“Work talk?” he said. His eyes swept over my oversized shirt and messy hair.

I blinked at him, stunned. “You can’t just show up at your employee’s door.”

He leaned one hand against the doorframe, lowering his voice.

“Maybe not.” His gaze locked on mine. “But you tried to fuck me the other day. Do you think I didn’t know that?”

A shiver ran up my spine. I couldn’t tell if it was fear… or something else.

And all I could think was:

I just uncovered evidence that you might be a criminal. And you’ve just come to my home. At night.

He tilted his head, his eyes dark. Hungry.

“Are you going to let me in… or?” he said slowly.

I swallowed hard. But for reasons unknown to me, I undid the lock and let him in. I stepped to the side, and he walked around me. I shut the door and turned toward him.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over my small open-plan living room-slash-kitchen. He took it all in, the thrift-store bookshelf and the mismatched throw pillows. The cheap appliances and worn-out oven.

A slow smile tugged at his mouth.

“Cozy,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve been in a place this…modest since college.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Sorry it’s not a penthouse.”

He chuckled. “Nothing wrong with humble beginnings, Miss Heathrow. Some people even find it charming.”

He was staring at me now, his eyes flickering down the length of my body.

His eyes were exactly as they always were—right before he fucked the daylights out of me. I stepped away from him, my back now against my kitchen counter. I didn’t have a chance to even speak before he strode toward me.

His hands were on my waist, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the fabric of my shorts. Then he leaned down, and his lips were on mine.

Soft and warm at first, but then the kiss deepened. His tongue slipped into my mouth as his grip on my waist tightened. My hands reached up behind his neck and slid into his hair.

He reached behind me and cleared off my kitchen counter, unopened mail flying to the ground. I felt him lift me onto the counter, setting me just on the edge. His tongue was still in my mouth. I fumbled for his belt, pulling it loose and tossing it to the side. Then I reached for the button of his trousers.

I slid my hands into his pants and felt it. His fully erect cock. God, I wanted it in me. My pussy was already screaming for it and I was soaking wet.

He groaned when I made contact with my hand. He tugged at my shorts and I shifted my ass. He pulled them clean off of me. Then my panties came off next.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and looked up at him.

His green eyes were full of lust. Hungry.

The Curator.

“This is a bad idea Miss Heathrow,” he murmured, his fingers dragging lines along my inner thigh. “I am starting to think I should not have come here.”

“Just fuck me already,” I croaked. “I’ll keep your little secret Mr. Drake.”

He shook his head, “We should stop. I’m sorry, this should not have happened.”

I stuck out my lower lip and whimpered, “But my pussy is so wet. You can’t leave me like this.” I tightened by legs around him, pulling him closer.

His body went stiff. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, but then he positioned himself right at the entrance to my vagina. I felt the tip of his dick pressing lightly against my entrance.

“Mmm,” I moaned. “Put it in.”

He sighed, as if still hesitating. The tip of his dick was driving me mad, he just needed to put it in. I was already dripping. My body was begging for it. He tried to speak, “I don’t think-”

I pulled him forward, the tip sliding in. He moaned instantly. He stayed like that, his breathing deepening. It was like he was trying to control himself. I tugged on him again and he slid in further.

“You can do better than this, can’t you?” I murmured. “Unless you’re scared someone will find out.”

Then he pushed forward. Inserting all of himself into me. Warm. Hard. Large.

“Yes,” I moaned, my hands gripping onto fistfuls of his hair. “Fuck me, come on.”

I laid back on the counter, my legs still firmly wrapped around him.

He began moving in and out. His thrusts were gentle and slow at first. But then, he took my legs and moved them to rest on his shoulders, gripping firmly to my ankles. He began to pick up speed. I was so wet, I could hear sloshing sounds as he fucked me. He began to pound into me, hard and deep. Filling me up with his massive cock.

“God,” I moaned. Then I felt his fingers go into my mouth. A familiar move. Something he had done before. I opened my eyes, and he was staring down at me as our skin slapped together.

“Don’t bother your neighbors,” He thrust into me again, and I bit down on his fingers. His other hand made it’s way to my clit where he began rubbing in small circles. The pleasure was intense as he stretched me and fucked me. Like I belonged to him.

I began sliding along the top of the counter, but he pulled my legs back towards him and continued his movements. He reached down and tugged my shirt upwards, revealing my breasts which were still covered by my bra.

He stopped for a moment and I sat up on the counter, my legs snug around his waist. His big cock was still buried deep inside me. He began kissing me again, his tongue already in my mouth. His hands were under my shirt, reaching for the back of my bra. He tugged it loose, then pulled my shirt and bra off. Revealing my breasts.

“Much better,” he murmured, looking down at my breasts. He leaned down and sucked on one of my nipples. His warm wet tongue flicked along it and I let out a deep moan.

He pulled away and pushed me back down so my back was flat on the counter again. Then he repositioned my ankles so they were on his shoulders again. He took hold of them and began again. He fucked me hard-like he meant it.

Warm, full, heavy and hot. God it was so big and it felt so good.

“Do..mmm…do you like it?” I moaned softly, my breasts bouncing with his movements.”

“Your pussy is perfect,” he whispered, his eyes on mine as he continued his strokes. “But you can’t tell anyone, Miss Heathrow.”

I moaned softly, “I can be your office slut Mr. Drake. I can be your secret.”

Chapter 35

I knew that would get him. The dirty talk. He moaned and increased his speed. His dick was already pulsating.

“Oh God!” I gasped as he continued to push his large dick into my vagina. “Just like that! Fuck me Mr. Drake! Fuck!”

“Such a tight pussy,” he moaned. “God damnit Sloane. What have you done to me?”

I felt myself tightening around him as my orgasm came. It washed over me, and just as I was about to let out a loud moan, his fingers were back in my mouth. I bit down, suppressing my moan. Just as he filled me up with his cum, exploding inside of me.

He pushed deep inside as he finished.

We stayed like that for a while, our breathing evening out before he slid out of me and stepped back. He was fixing the button on his pants and then picking up his belt. I sat up, hopped off the counter and retrieved my panties, his cum dripping down the inside of my leg.

Well done, Sloane.

My pussy was still vibrating from the fucking. God it had felt great.

“That can’t happen again,” he sighed. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment. I take full responsibility, and I should not have allowed it to happen.”

I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, “No problem. I guess I won’t be your office slut after all.”

He stood still, watching me intently, “If I had it my way Miss Heathrow, I would fuck you every single day. And you would be my office slut. Do you understand me?”

I blinked but nodded, “Yes, yes sir.”

“Good,” he replied. “But we need to maintain a professional atmosphere. We got it out of our system, and it is time to move on.”

“I think I need to go now.” His eyes were raking up and down my body, “Or I will fuck you again.”

I smiled sweetly, “See you later.”

And just like that, he was gone.

And for some reason…I felt cold. Like something was missing.

After Mr. Drake left, the apartment still smelled of his cologne. I pressed both palms to my face and exhaled. I needed to reset, so I could think clearly.

I needed a shower and a meal. I needed one minute where my life didn’t feel like it was completely out of control.

I stripped my clothes off and stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower head. It ran over my shoulders, easing my tense muscles. By the time I’d wrapped myself in a towel, I felt human again…well kind of. I slathered on far more lotion than anyone ever needed and slipped into my pajamas.

Dinner was quick and easy. Just scrambled eggs on buttered toast. I needed the kind of quick, easy food that required zero brain power. I ate standing at my counter, my eyes staring at the wall. I felt numb. I didn’t want to process anything.

But by God, I had done it. Gotten to all three CEOs. Three men who had no idea I was playing them. I had seduced every single one of them. Beaten them at their own game.

Who was in control now?

A laugh slipped out of me. I was tired, proud, and probably a little unhinged. But the high didn’t last long. It never did. There was always something bitter-laced within the sweet moments.

My mind slid back to the files I’d uncovered. The coded logs and odd account transactions. The video of the man. The GPS coordinates. The way they had forced him to cooperate.

Were they criminals? Were they mobsters? Were they just men with far too much money? Who was I fucking?

I forced the thoughts out of my head. I cleaned up my dinner, sighing as I scrubbed my plate clean. My eyes glanced at the clock. It was only 8pm. I climbed into bed, burying myself under blankets, willing myself to sleep. I could think about all the bullshit tomorrow.

Sleep came fast and soon, my world had gone dark. I had slipped into a deep slumber.

I was in the middle of a deep dream. My father and I. We were driving. Somewhere far away-somewhere unknown. I was in the passenger seat, watching him as he pressed hard on the gas. His eyes were blurred. His speech slurred.

But the dream was soon interrupted.

I felt something warm on my mouth. A hand clamped over my lips. Heavy and forceful. Then I felt something else. Something rough and wet…a rag pressed against my face.

My eyes flew open, my heart pounding and my pulse racing. I wiggled and reached outwards, my hands gripping onto someone’s wrists. I could smell a strong foreign chemical.

“Don’t make a sound.” A voice cut through the dark. “Or this won’t end well for you.”

The world tilted and blurred, before fading into black as my arms fell limp at my sides.

---

When consciousness finally returned, it did so slowly. Like I was peering through a thick fog. I groaned and looked around, squinting as my vision adjusted. I was in a dimly lit basement. I felt cold concrete against my bare legs, and my back was pressed against a hard metal pillar.

My wrists were tied behind me, my body felt heavy and sluggish, as if I was anchored down. I pushed myself upright. I heard the faint echo of footsteps, as if someone was approaching. A figure was making its way down a set of stairs, towards me.

A man stepped into view.

He was tall with dark hair. I couldn’t make out his features yet. But I knew he was a stranger-an unknown. He approached calmly, as if I weren’t a kidnapped victim. Like it was no big deal. It made my stomach twist.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, like he’d been waiting.

I pressed my back against the pillar. “Who are you?”

He smiled, “You don’t need to be scared. No one here is going to hurt you.”

He crouched beside me, and before I could flinch away, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with surprising tenderness.

He had thick, dark hair. His hair was messy-the sort of effortless mess that looked intentional. His eyes were a cold, electric shade of blue. His jawline was sharp and cleanly cut. I hated to admit it, but he looked like a model.

He wore a three-piece suit, tailored within an inch of its life. The vest hugged his torso, placed over a crisp white shirt and paired with a black tie. And over it all, he wore a long black coat.

“Sorry about the… extraction,” he murmured. “But this was the only way to get you here.”

“What?” I whispered hoarsely. “What the fuck am I doing here? Why have you kidnapped me?”

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”

I chuckled. Not because I thought this was funny, but because it was unbelievable. “Who? Tell me what?”

His expression changed. It was as if he were confused or bewildered, I couldn’t tell. Then he leaned forward, reaching behind me and freeing my hands from the ropes that bound them. He was so close, I could feel the warmth of his body and caught a whiff of his cologne. Strong and clean. He stood and offered a hand to help me up.

“Who are you?” I said, staring at his hand as if it were on fire. I rubbed my wrists. They were sore from the ropes.

“My name is not important,” he said, his voice growing hard and authorative. “Come on. Get up.”

I ignored him, shooting angry daggers at him instead. If he was going to kill me, then I was not going out without a fight. That much was certain.

He sighed, “Come on Sloane.”

“Why am I here?” I asked again. “How the fuck do you even know my name?”

His gaze sharpened and his face went flat.

“You were involved with them,” he said quietly. “All three of them.”

My stomach dropped. “Involved with who?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You know who.”

My cheeks turned red. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was embarrassment. Perhaps fear. I couldn’t tell either way.

“I don’t know what you think you know,” I said sternly, lifting my chin.

“Oh, I know enough,” he murmured. He knelt down, so our gazes met. “I know they’ve all had you.”

I froze. How could this man possibly know who I was? Or know that I had been sleeping with all three men? What had I gotten myself into?

His voice was now soft, almost sympathetic, “And because of that…they’ve put you in the middle of something you were never meant to be involved in. This isn’t your fault…but it is your reality Sloane.”

I tried to even my breathing, tried to keep a calm composure. I didn’t want to look weak in front of this man. Whoever he was.

“What?” I whispered. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said slowly, “you were captured because they value you. They don’t value much besides their money-but they have plenty of that. Don’t they?”

My heart thudded against my chest. So maybe my father was right. Maybe they were mobsters.

“Because they slept with you.” He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in. “Even when the contract was over with. That makes you…valuable.”

He leaned in, his voice almost a whisper.

“And sweetheart… when men like them get attached to something?” His smile appeared again. “That’s when people start to die.”

Author’s note:

This is the end of Book 1.

The Million Dollar Revenge

Sloane Heathrow thought the deal was over. She was wrong.

After her sudden disappearance, Sloane finds herself caught between two powerful brothers who know exactly what the three CEOs are hiding—and exactly why Sloane matters. They offer her the same familiar number: one million dollars. This time, not for her body… but for her skills.

Pulled between two dark worlds full of money, crime, and temptation, Sloane must decide which men to trust—and which ones to destroy. Because every choice has a price.

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