Amancio
Five years ago, my life was perfect.
I had a beautiful fiancée. We were planning a destination wedding. Business was booming. I was on magazine covers as a rising star in the industry after taking over my father’s company and turning a profit for the first time in several years. Real money, too. They said I was well on my way to becoming a billionaire and they were right.
I just didn’t expect to be so miserable once I got here.
“Amy, you can go home,” I say to my executive assistant as I step out of my office.
“Sir?” She gives me a perplexed look. “You still have an interview this evening. Should I reschedule?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I got it covered. Enjoy your long weekend.”
“Thank you,” she replies sheepishly. “Are you sure you are going to be okay without me tomorrow?”
“Yes, Amy.” I nod. “You’ve been planning this vacation with your boyfriend for a year. Go have fun and don’t think about work until you get back here on Monday morning.”
“If you need anything, you can always call me.” She grabs her purse and stands up. “The new scheduling software is still a mess. I told the IT guy to swap us back to the old one for now, but they haven’t-“
“Amy,” I interrupt her and chuckle. “Go home. I can handle things here.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiles and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Mr. Nichols.”
“Don’t mention it.” I waft a hand and walk back into my office, pushing the door closed.
Amy’s great. I wasn’t sure what to think of her when she applied for the position, but she’s more than proven her worth. I’ll probably be cursing tomorrow when I have to handle all the stuff she normally handles for me.
But I’m not worried about any of that tonight.
Five years ago, a cruel twist of fate took the woman I loved away from me. Took her away from the world, when she had so much left to offer. I poured what was left of my soul and sanity into the company. I was dead inside. Sometimes I felt like a prisoner trapped in my own body.
The last few months have been different. The fog of despair has lifted. I’ve found myself craving things I’ve lived without. Maybe the money and power is finally going to my head. Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis at thirty-five. Trading in my sedan for a Bugatti would certainly suggest that and I didn’t stop there.
I don’t have an interview this evening. That’s just what I told Amy to put on my calendar.
I hired an escort.
As expensive as she is discreet.
And I plan to get my money’s worth.
I haven’t been with anyone since my fiancée died. I’m not sure if I’m ready for dating or a relationship, but I’m ready for something. The need has begun to gnaw at me from the inside. I can’t ignore it any longer.
I want a girl on her knees with a willing wet mouth and that’s just the appetizer.
Thinking about it makes my cock throb in my pants and press against the zipper. I stare at the clock on my computer, counting down the minutes as the top of the hour approaches. When I finally hear the elevator ding, anticipation surges through my body. I stand up from my desk and walk out of my office.
There she is. Honey-gold hair. Pale blue eyes. Gorgeous curves. She already looks like she’s worth every penny.
“Mr. Nichols!” She smiles, clutches a portfolio close to her chest, and walks over with her hand extended. “I’m-“
“I know who you are,” I interrupt her and ignore the handshake. “Follow me.”
“Um, yes sir,” she says in a confused tone.
I’m not being intentionally rude. I just have no interest in getting to know her personally. This is a business transaction. Money for service. I’m not trying to blur the lines.
I step into the elevator and hit the button to the top floor.
After my fiancée passed, I couldn’t stand going home to the apartment we shared, so I turned the top floor of the office into a penthouse suite.
“Are we not going to your office?” She asks.
“No,” I reply. “My office is for working.”
“Right, that makes sense.” She nods as if I have just imparted some sort of wisdom.
I take in the sight of her as the elevator goes up. I thought she would be wearing a dress instead of a blazer and a pencil skirt. Maybe she thought there would be people in the office and was trying to fit in. It doesn’t matter. She’ll be taking it off soon enough.
“You’re very pretty.” I drink in the sight of her skirt, hugging her hips so tight it outlines the shape of her ass. “But a little younger than I expected.”
“Um, thank you? I mean, I’m still in college.” She blushes, her cheeks turning red in an instant.
“College, huh?” I nod. “That can get very expensive.”
Apparently, I’ll be paying part of her tuition tonight. At least my money is going to a good cause. Although I doubt I would care if she told me she was going to snort it all in the bathroom after we’re done.
The elevator opens and I step out of it. She follows behind me, looking around like a kid that wandered into the lap of luxury.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask as I walk to the bar area.
“N-no sir,” she replies quickly.
“Suit yourself.” I reach for a bottle of whiskey and open it. “Go have a seat on the couch.”
She blinks at me like she is confused, but turns and walks over to the couch.
The whiskey is expensive, just like my companion for the evening. It was a gift from one of my dad’s friends and it sat on the shelf for years before I finally opened it. Now I wish I had been drinking it all along. After pouring my whiskey, I open the humidor next to the bar and take out a Cuban cigar. Another recent indulgence, just like the car sitting in my parking space.
I’m going to burn, drink, and fuck my way through a lot of money tonight.
But I’m damn sure going to enjoy it.
I walk to the couch with my cigar in one hand and my whiskey in the other. She still looks confused and is staring at a rack of outfits that look rather out of place in my living room area.
“They said you would wear anything I wanted…” My voice trails off as I puff my cigar and take the first outfit off the rack. “I picked out a few.”
“W-wear anything?” Her eyebrows shoot up.
“Classic schoolgirl outfit. Maybe I’ll make you call me Daddy.” I turn and show it to her. “What do you think?”
“Uh…” She blinks and her expression changes to one of bewilderment.
“Not your favorite? Okay.” I turn and put it back on the rack, exchanging it for the next one. “How about a cheerleader? Never had one of those. Dated one in high school, but never-“
“Mr. Nichols, um,” she interrupts. “I’m not sure…”
“You’re right. I don’t get the cheerleader vibe from you.” I puff my cigar and put the outfit back. “Actually, I kind of like what you’re wearing now. Stand up for me.”
The blush returns to her cheeks, but she does what I ask, putting her portfolio on the coffee table before rising from her seat.
“Take off your blazer.” I motion to her.
“Sir, I…” Her brows furrow.
“Do it.” I stiffen my tone to remind her who is paying and who is getting paid. “I don’t like to repeat myself.”
She trembles a little. Not the reaction I was expecting. Maybe my tone was too harsh.
“Okay,” she relents, the emotion draining out of her face as she takes it off.
“Ah yes, very nice.” I nod, sip my whiskey, and put the glass down. “Come a little closer.”
She takes a deep breath, exhales a long sigh, and blinks a couple of times before she walks over to me.
“You know I’m the boss around here, right?” I puff my cigar.
“Of course, Mr. Nichols.” She coughs a little as the cigar smoke gets close to her face.
“And the boss gets what he wants.” I grin.
“Yes, I-“
“Shh.” I interrupt her and put my finger on her lips. “The boss gets what he wants, and right now, I want you down on your knees.”
That's where you belong.
This is all about me.
