Shark (Wall Street Beasts 1)

Christo would have to find another scapegoat. Or perhaps he would simply leave the heat on Sophie in her absence, making her one of the most wanted fugitives in the world.

Alex doubted she understood the full intensity of her situation. She knew she was in trouble, of course, but only sharks truly understood the depths. She was a pretty pink swimmer drifted out to sea, and he was going to devour her bit by bit until there was nothing of her innocence left.

With her ass bared, he was finally able to see her as she truly was. That tight skirt and that simple underwear had been holding a very full set of cheeks captive. It was almost magic, the way a woman’s body could be concealed by apparently conservative clothing. She was a lot more shapely than she had appeared to be. This rosy red ass was spreading delightfully, revealing a dusky little hole, and a set of plump lips hiding behind golden down.

“Every part of you is beautiful," he told her, one hand on each of her cheeks, spreading them lewdly wide. He loved the way she gasped as modesty disappeared from her grasp, as long as her ass was in his.

“Alex…”

He had never liked the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth. It sounded impudent, and inappropriate. She had never been his equal, but she had always spoken as though she was. That was about to change.

“Sir,” he corrected. “You will call me sir when you address me.”

“You’re really taking advantage of this,” she muttered, almost under her breath.

“I take advantage of everything,” he replied. “Always.”

He spanked her again, admiring the jiggle in her ass and thighs. Alex was no stranger to carnal companions, but not one like Sophie. His bedroom partners were usually more confident and polished. They knew what their bodies were made for, and how to use them.

Sophie moved like a virgin. Tight through the hips, and clamping her thighs together, though it offered her little in the way of modesty. Her ass was coloring nicely, taking on that punished red hue he so adored.

He had a reputation for being a sadist. It was well earned.

She cried out under a particularly harsh slap, and he felt his cock harden. Take it slowly, he told himself. There’s no need to hurry. She's yours now.

Those last three words, spoken internally, struck a chord in his soul. She really was his. She was more precious and more beautiful than any of his previous lovers for that reason alone. There was not a part of her he did not possess. She had lost all access to the facade of free will. From now on, the only will that mattered was his.

They both knew it. It was why she hadn’t tried to get off his lap yet, why she chose to wriggle and cry instead of curse and scream. It was also why she wasn’t threatening him with legal consequences. This young woman was now very much outside the protection of the law.

But she was under his protection.

That stilled his hand.

His mind contained many dark impulses and even darker memories. But he had some control over them — at least, for the moment.

“Get up,” he said, slapping her ass one last, hard time.

She yelped as she escaped his thighs and took a seat on the opposite side of the pain, flinching as her ass made contact with the seat. He enjoyed the sight of her wriggling her skirt and panties back up over her heated ass while trying to stay seated, while simultaneously trying to keep her rear off the seat.

A fortuitous bump of turbulence sent her sitting back down. He hid most of the smile which rose to his lips when he heard her yelp and saw the fresh flush of discomfort and embarrassment rise to her cheeks.

Chapter 11

How was she going to survive this man?

The plane was starting to lose altitude. He could feel it in her stomach, the termination of their journey was leading to a new beginning on a literally uncharted island where neither god, nor the rule of man could reach her.

Her thoughts were becoming increasingly dramatic, but it was impossible to stay calm. It might even be impossible to stay sane. She looked at him with a shamed gaze, not wanting to make eye contact, but needing to keep tabs on the multi-millionaire monster across from her.

“Don’t look at me that way, Sophie,” he drawled. “You’re perfectly safe with me.”

“Am I.”

She made it a statement, not a question.

“Compared to the booking cell you’d be in right now, in a facility most known for having guards who fall asleep and cameras which mysteriously deactivate when inmates die, you're in heaven.”

This was quite literally the definition of out of the frying pan into the fire, except it was actually just a metaphor. God. She couldn’t keep her thoughts straight at all. Her ass ached and her pride was bruised as hell. But even worse was the little secret between her thighs. The place that should have been dry was wet. And not just a bit wet. She was soaked to the extent she could feel it when she squirmed — which she was doing a lot because she was so damn nervous. He spanked her on a plane. What the hell was he going to do on the ground?