Excerpt Temptation by Leigh Lennon
As I take a sip of my smooth whiskey, something catches my attention on the desk and I’m reminded of the reason for this meeting. “Fuck, I forgot, you’re here for me to chastise.” I toss him the application and wait for his explanation.
The look on his face tells me I won’t like it when he turns his gaze from me, rubbing his chin. “Ah, shit. Yeah, I forgot to talk to you about this. You know my new sub? Well, she came to me, begging me to help her friend. They both got laid off from where Kira has been working for the past couple of years. I hated her working there, but she wasn’t collared to me. But as soon as she became mine, I put her up in my penthouse on Michigan Avenue, and I moved to my home on Orchard Street. You know me.”
I know my best friend. His subs are at his beck and call—they fuck—but Jared does not do commitment. “Thanks for the history lesson as if I haven’t fucking known you my whole life. So, this…” I look at the application. “Evelyn Lipton, how is she my fucking concern?”
“Kira has a bleeding heart. I’d been trying to get her to commit to this for a year. She’d played with me, but she’s the best sub. I guess I gave her friend a job as a gift, a thank you for accepting my collar.”
It doesn’t work this way, or should I say, I don’t work this way. “So I fucking get handed a girl who I assume knows nothing about this lifestyle because you’re too big of a pussy and gave in to your sub? Have you lost it? Is your sub’s pussy made of gold?”
The smile crawling on his face has my hands sweaty and body fuming. But Jared never knows when to quit. “Yeah, pretty much. She’s the only one I’ve collared since…” And this really shuts him up. We both want to fucking forget that bitch.
“Well, my friend.” I stand. “You’ll need to fix your fucking mistake. Tell Kira to tell Miss Evelyn Lipton and her very unfortunate name that she no longer has a job at Dungeon Elite. There’s a reason we don’t hire those outside of BDSM, you fuckup.”
I walk to my door to dismiss him because I can’t look his way. He stands, straightening his suit. He’s not in a hurry to leave my office, but this jackass is not scared of me, unlike most everyone else. “There’s something I forgot to tell you about Miss Evelyn Lipton.” His smug voice has me wanting to bitch slap the smile off his face.
“Make it good and then get the fuck out of my office.”
“I’ve seen her, and I’ve met her. I’m under the impression she’d make one hell of a sub.” He stops, and I wonder why in the world I’d care. But then he continues. “A great fucking submissive—for you.”
I sit down at the television to work the remote Taya said had tons of channels. The smart TV has a message for me.
Kitten, you should have taken your punishment.
Fuck this man! I’m about to break the fucking rule when a light tap alerts me to someone at my door. Opening it, I’m about to give Chadwick hell, but I find a server with room service instead. With my food covered with the fancy silver tops that I imagine seeing in an expensive restaurant, the gentleman wheels it into my room without a word and leaves it in front of my television.
A note sits on the table. Opening it slowly, I pull out the small little piece of paper with a handwritten message.
This is not how I envisioned our first night together. But you disobeyed me a couple of times. I can’t reward someone with a trip to my dungeon when you act like a brat. Of course, you’re not a prisoner. You can leave at any time, but the job and the contract would be null and void. I won’t ever deny you your basic needs, so here is dinner. When you’re ready to accept your discipline, simply text me—ready for my spanking. Have a fun night, Kitten.
I’m so fucking hungry that I pull back the sterling silver tray top to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cottage cheese, an orange, a bottle of water, and a cup of apple juice.
My pulse quickens, looking at my basic needs on the tray. I’m left to remember how I’d eaten this type of sandwich for years because my dad’s alcohol came before groceries. It’s just not disgusting, which it is, but it’s a reminder of my childhood I’d rather forget. Picking up my phone, I must have typed ten different messages, but then delete them right away without sending. Instead, I decide to tackle his dinner choice with a little tact.
Me: What in the world? I’m not six. You can’t call PB&J a suitable dinner.
My phone pings right away.
The hot asshole who wants to spank me: Are you ready for your spanking?
I sit down with my dinner, a fucking kindergarten lunch, and start to eat it as I cry.
“Evelyn?” I probe, still seated, my fingers steepled at my chin.
“Eve, please call me Eve.”
“Oh, great. Since we’re picking names and titles, please call me Sir.” My words are smooth, yet with the dip in my timbre, I come across more demanding. And let’s face it—I am fucking demanding.
Her eyebrow hitches, and the green sparkles playing against her almost chocolate eyes reel me into her mind. Grabbing a stray strand of her slightly curled honey brown hair must give her that second she needs to bring her mind to the present. “Um, excuse me?” she asks, still standing, her tits about to fall out of the too small dress that shows every luscious curve of her body.
“Sir. To everyone here who works for me, they all need to call me Sir. It’s not negotiable, Evelyn.”
“Okay…” Her tone is almost a question, but her thought process continues, and I see it in her eyes. “Sir, but please call me Eve.”
“Oh, Evelyn, dear. I call people whatever the fuck I choose to call them.” My McKenna from earlier is still on my desk. When I grab it, I tip it toward me and take a long sip, never taking my gaze off her. She wiggles under my stare, and I internally chuckle.
“Sir?” Now her voice is the all-too-telling sass women try to pull with me.
“Why am I here?” Her hands are on her hips, and it’s appropriate with the rise of pitch in her tone.
“Evelyn, you mean, why am I here, Sir?” I correct her.
A small smirk creeps onto her face. “Um, yes, that’s right.” Her sarcasm isn’t lost on me. “Why am I here, Sir?”
“Well, Evelyn, if you want a job with me, your cute-ass attitude better disappear, you understand? Now, take that cute ass of yours”—I point at the chair in front of my desk—“that’s too fucking sassy at this point, and let’s chat. I understand you’re down on your luck, and I have an offer for you.”