Falling into Temptation (Falling 1)

She turns to leave, and I can’t help myself. I need to get her name. I reach for her elbow, effectively stopping her as she turns back to face me.

“I said I was sorry that I was an asshole.” My eyes travel her body once more. “Not that you ran into me.”

She doesn’t respond. She just stands there looking nervous as if she might run at any moment.

“So where are you from anyway?” I ask. “I can’t place your dialect.”

Panic sweeps across her face and she shakes her head. “Uh, trust me it’s not anywhere you would know. Look I’m really sorry for interrupting your day and I’m running late myself, so I really have to go. Have a nice day, Mr. Maddox.” She pulls back and turns to walk away. But when she reaches the end of the block, she glances back over her shoulder and smiles at me.

I feel even more frustrated as I climb into the back of the waiting sedan. I lost all track of time talking to her, and I didn’t even manage to get a name. I must be really off my game today because I can’t recall that ever happening before.

***

By noon, I’m back to the confines of my office. As expected, my father was a huge dick to me. I don’t know why I even bothered showing up at all.

To top it all off, I can’t get the woman from earlier out of my head. After this morning, my sexual frustrations are at an all-time high. I need a good fuck. I scroll absent mindedly through my contacts, contemplating my options. But after a few minutes I set the phone back on the desk in frustration. There are plenty of women I could call, but none of them sound appealing. I’ve grown bored with all the high society princess types, and even worse are the up and coming gold diggers. Yes, they are all eager to please, but it always comes at a cost.

I take a sip of coffee, staring out the window at the busy streets below. My mind wanders back to her, the woman who practically crash landed at my feet. The woman who royally fucked any chance I had of salvaging my meeting. But for some reason, it doesn’t bother me.

There was something about her that sent all of the blood straight to my cock. Maybe it was that sweet voice of hers swearing at me. Yes, that had definitely done it alright. Or perhaps it was the fact that I couldn’t quite picture her reaction to me taking her roughly. Would she like it? I have no fucking clue… and more importantly, why do I give a shit?

But that damned red lipstick. When I saw those plush red lips for the first time, I had an overwhelming urge to fuck that mouth of hers. To punish her harsh words with my cock. Yes, I think I would like that very much. I just have to wonder what this woman’s price would be. Because everyone has a price. It’s something I’ve learned the hard way.

I’m known for my scandalous affairs, the gossip columns always painting me as a cold hearted bastard. But it never stops the women from falling all over themselves trying to get my attention. When women look at me, they either see one of two things, a cushy life as a trophy wife or a publicity boost for their career.

I realized a long time ago that a determined woman will do just about anything to get what she wants. I may have been naive for a little while, but that phase didn’t last long. I was thinking with my heart then, and not my dick. But now, my dick always gets what it wants. And if a woman isn’t willing to provide that, then she is of no use to me. Pure and simple. I always have the upper hand and I’m always in control.

The women I date may not like it, but they sure as hell never say otherwise. They let me whip them and spank them and fuck them brutally all while moaning my name like I’m a God. It’s all fake of course… their eagerness to submit to me. But the amount of fucks I give are exactly zero. I get off on seeing them kneel before me, doing whatever I ask. It’s the one place in my life I have control, and I won’t be relinquishing that any time soon.

It’s not that I hate women because I don’t. There’s nothing better than the feeling of a beautiful woman in your hands and in your bed. I just despise the fact that over the years I’ve come to find out they are all the same. I find their groveling attempts to please me annoying, even though it’s exactly what I want. Call me fucked up if you will, but that’s me in a nutshell.