“We’re here to see Mr. Randall, he’s expecting me. Reginald Harrison,” Daddy informs the woman whose eyes widen. His voice is deep, with an air of importance that lingers in every word, reminding me of his own father. Uncle Greg is everything that Pike is not. A vile man with a disgusting penchant for making my skin crawl.
I watch as Pike hands her the fake ID to prove who he is. Thankfully, he wore a suit today, but I don’t care. I’m in my normal black and white. She nods quickly, tapping away at the phone on her desk, punching in the numbers with her fake red nails. The bitch whispers into the speaker, informing whoever is on the other end of the line that we’re here. There’s a glint in her eye each time she looks at Daddy and I don’t like it. There’s a simmering rage boiling just below the surface and just when I’m about to lose it, I feel Pike’s hand on my arm.
His gentle touch soothes me somewhat and I breathe through it. When I go into a rage, I lose all sense of where I am and who I am. It’s as if there’s a dormant animal sleeping inside me. When I’m jealous, or angry, it wakes up and makes the bad people see what they’ve been doing wrong.
Moments later, the fake plastered Barbie is smiling at Pike which only confirms my need to carve her a pretty new face while I peel the flesh from her skull. I smile when I think about how much I want to see her bleeding out all over the fucking floor with her eyes shoved up her cunt for looking at Daddy like that.
“You’re welcome to go through, Mr. Harrison. My apologies for the inconvenience and wait.” Her fake sugary sweet tone makes me gag loudly before Pike tugs me beside him. He doesn’t admonish me, but I know he’s not impressed with my show of jealousy. He told me a long while ago that not everyone is like me and they’ll take me away from him if I act out. But sometimes, I can’t help it. I know that if I misbehave in public, I’ll be in trouble. Sometimes he doesn’t understand. I love when he spanks me, and most times, I act out just so he can pull my panties down and turn my ass a blushing red.
We make our way toward the elevators as the doors slide open, allowing us to step inside. There’s some strange classical shit playing on the speakers, but once the door closes, Pike turns to regard me.
“Sweet Molls,” he says my name in that tone. The one that reminds me I need to behave until we’re free of prying eyes. His icy-blue stare is filled with seriousness as he continues to speak, “We have to be quick. Remember what I told you, don’t play with your food.” His warning to me along with that look makes me wonder if I can do it as fast as I need to. I stare at him for a long while, getting lost in his eyes. They’re like the sky, endless and pretty.
The door slides open and we’re spat out on to the plush Claret-color carpet of the CEO’s office. There aren’t any other doors, only one large mahogany door. Pike shoves it open, stepping inside, allowing me to follow.
Upon entering the large open space, I take in each item of furniture. The dark wood and the crimson color with the black makes it seem darker than it really is. The sun is high in the sky, but his office is dull and dreary.
“Who the fuck are you? You’re not—”
“If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up and let Molly here tell you about her story.” Pike tells the asshole behind the large wooden desk. I saunter further into the room, taking in the man who looks at me like I’m nothing but a piece of trash. That’s what I want him to think. I don’t need him to know that I know more about this world, about his business, than he does.
“You both shouldn’t be in here,” the man tells us. His suit is stiff and unrelenting, but I make my move before he even realizes what’s happening. Settling my ass on his desk, I spread my thighs and place each foot on the chair he’s sitting on. Pike is behind me, I feel him, which offers me comfort.
“I should be here. You’re a bad, bad man,” I tell him. His gaze darts between my legs where I knew they would. He’s fucked up and filthy. Not my kind of dirty, though. He’s an asshole who does things you’d rather not know about.
The handle of the knife is smooth, much like the hard-wooden desk he’s sitting behind. His eyes are wide as he watches me near him. My pulse is erratic, similar to the rhythm it beats when I’m riding Daddy’s big donkey dick. Adrenalin courses through my veins, heating my blood, until I’m pulsing between my legs. All because I’m about to drench my hands in the blood of this asshole.