The Love Of Money - S02 E173

Story 2 months ago

The Love Of Money - S02 E173

Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 173

A lot had happened in the past few days since I found the recording device among Carla’s things and had lunch with Sachiko.

Beyond the corporate warfare, Rajesh Desai’s memorial was on Wednesday. I hadn’t wanted to go, but Charity and Erin had insisted, saying it was the right move. Desai was beloved in the community, and my absence would’ve been weaponized against me. Especially considering I was one of the last people to see him alive.

It was the closest either of them had come to actually bossing me.

Chloe had been adamantly against it. Her argument? If someone wanted to take me out, the memorial would be the perfect opportunity.

She wasn’t wrong, but Erin and Charity won that fight. And I didn’t think I had ever seen Chloe that stressed as she put together the strategy to ensure I stayed safe. She’d have taken the Norwegian wilderness over that event any day.

It was a massive affair. It felt like half the city turned out. Politicians, celebrities, philanthropists—they were all there. I caught glimpses of Hiro, but my security detail wouldn’t let me within spitting distance. When I sent Erin with a message, his guards turned her away without a word.

That was after the LumenVir attack but before my retaliation. I’d been hoping to get face time with him before I pulled the trigger on one of the three plans we’d put together.

When that attempt to talk failed, I gave the go-ahead and spent the next day watching the stock market and Japanese news to see the fallout. I didn’t feel great, considering there were so many lives that were likely affected by the decisions Hiro and I were making, but what else was I supposed to do? Hiro had me backed into a corner.

On a different note—Natalie and I were in a good place. The memorial had been on Wednesday morning, and less than an hour after launching my counterattack on Hiro, I took some of that frustration out on her in a way that left us both breathless and sweaty.

We ordered lunch to be delivered to her office. The moment she confirmed the order, I was on her, tearing off her blazer with a hunger that bordered on manic. I’d just given the go-ahead to cripple Hiro. The power surged through me like a drug, making me ravenous.

Natalie barely had time to react as I stripped her down, shoved half her desk clear, and bent her over it. Considering most of my fantasies about her had taken place at work, this had been a long time coming.

With her ass hanging off the edge of the desk, I drove into her hard, sweat slicking down my back. She tried to keep quiet, but it was damn difficult with how deeply I was penetrating her. She was mortified at the thought that Erin and Wendy could hear us through the door.

Wendy was Natalie’s new secretary—and just so happened to be the drugged-out girl I met at Tyler’s party.

She was one of the tallest women I’d ever seen, close to six feet, with legs that went on forever. Back then, she’d spent most of her time passed out on the couch in a bikini that barely qualified as clothing. She had long, coltish limbs, a pixie cut that framed her swan-like neck, and pale, ivory skin that practically glowed.

When I saw her this time, she looked a hell of a lot more coherent—no bloodshot eyes and steady on her feet. Honestly, I was surprised she even remembered me.

I didn’t last long. The fury from Hiro, the disdain from Sachiko, and the knowledge that Erin and Wendy were just outside the door… all of it lit a fire in me I wasn’t interested in extinguishing.

“I’m pretty sure they know what we’re doing in here,” I’d said to Natalie. “And they don’t care. Hell, Erin would join in if we asked her.”

That shut Natalie up—though she looked more intrigued than upset.

After the food was delivered, we spent the rest of the afternoon fucking in her office and talking. By the time I left—just before the end of the workday—we’d had another conversation about where this was going.

If it weren’t for the other women in my life, I think Natalie and I would have already been in a committed, loving relationship. But she had reservations about diving headfirst into an open dynamic.

I told her I understood. I wanted her, but I wasn’t going to pressure her. This was my lifestyle. She would have to decide whether she wanted in, and if so, she had to come in on her own terms—no coercion.

When I left her office, Erin and Wendy both gave us the same knowing look.

“You made an impression,” Erin had said on the way out. Apparently, Wendy had lots of questions about me.

And then there was Astrid. The Norwegian heiress had been pestering me all week… a daily call I ignored, followed by a selfie I couldn’t.

One was her in a bubble bath, foam placed just in all the right spots.

Another—my personal favorite—was her perched on her dining room table, wearing nothing but one of my button-down shirts. One that I was apparently never going to get back. The sleeves hung past her wrists. Her palms were planted on the wood between her open thighs, strategically blocking my view of her sex. There wasn’t a scrap of underwear on her hips. Her small chest was pressed between her biceps, offering as much cleavage as her modest curves could manage while managing to hide her nipples. That silky blond cornsilk hair draped over one shoulder, exposing the pale line of her neck as she tilted her head, reading glasses perched on her nose.

The caption read: You don’t know what you’re missing. I’d be happy to show you.

She looked like the innocent girl next door just begging to be ruined.

Fortunately, Erin and Helen had a way of keeping me from doing anything reckless.

Leave it to Erin to recite Astrid’s sins in the sexiest tone imaginable—naked beside me in bed, fingers drifting lazily across my chest as she whispered stories of Norway in my ear. And when her lips brushed against the shell of it, it didn’t really matter what she was saying anymore.

Especially not with her other hand fisted in Helen’s golden hair, using my collared submissive’s throat like a cock sleeve until I came down it.

It was hard to feel any real fear of missing out on Astrid with those two.

Speaking of Helen, Roger VanCamp was a frustration that just wouldn’t end.