First Comes Love

I'm playing with fucking fire here – cavorting around with a stripper. We're looking at a scandal the size that's pretty much fucking incomprehensible.

Seeing Daphne in those black yoga pants and blue sports bra this morning has got the blood rushing to my cock like nothing else. I consider going and taking a shower and doing something about it.

But something catches my eye. Daphne, in her rush to avoid embarrassment, has forgotten to take her the panic key that Pressly gave her yesterday. A panic key is something that our security has given us. No matter where we are, as long as we're in the perimeter, anything happens, you push the panic alarm. Whether you tripped and fell, someone's trying to rob you, or you see a cat that's up in a tree, you push the panic alarm when you want security to come down.

She should have never left it.

Don't look at me like that. I'm not fucking chasing her. Besides, she couldn’t have gone far and knowing her, I’m betting she headed downtown than through the Park – she’s probably going to run by her fucking apartment to pick up some stuff.

I shrug to myself and grab the key, walking out the condo and into the elevator.

Besides, what the fuck kind of host would I be if I let something happened to her?

Which, considering her embarrassment, may already have happened.

Besides, I'm grinning at the thought of seeing the most innocent stripper I’ve ever met blushing uncontrollably when she sees me again, after she got caught dropping her nipple clamp.

I knew she'd love it.

But seriously, Daphne must be fucking new to stripping or something. I’ve never seen a more wholesome and innocent woman in my life. A normal stripper, she’d be all over me right now – fucking shucking off her clothes and climbing on my cock before she even moved in. She’d be doing the nastiest things to me after I rescued that boy who fell off the boat.

Daphne – it’s like she’s grown up around real princes and princesses.

Fuck, she acts more royal than me.

I'm on the bike, driving down 6th Avenue, looking at the sidewalk seeing if I can find her. Yeah, it's a fucking long shot. But my head is so fucking confused right now that the drive will do me good even if I don’t find her. Finding that nipple clamp this morning was intense. My cock stiffened so fucking fast I thought I was going to rip my boxer briefs.

A mile in, I see something that causes me to stop.

I see Daphne in the distance. And it looks like there's a black SUV that's pulled up on the side of the road. And a bloke that’s yelling and frothing at the fucking mouth and grabbing her by the arm and throat. There’s no one else on the sidewalk nearby and I see that fucker grab her and pulls her off into the side street.

I pull out my phone and speed dial Pressly.

"Pressly, tell Sam I need backup," I tell him. He's on his way. I hang up. He knows my coordinates from my panic key.

I look over again and I freeze.

Fuck me, if that bloke is the fucking Jake that Daphne was talking about then I’m going to kick the living shit out of him.

I see him move over and take Daphne by the arm. She's trying to pull away but he slaps her on the face.

That's fucking all I need. I'm not letting security handle this shit. I rev up my bike and head straight for him.

That’s fucking it. He has no idea what he’s unleashed.

I can hear her scream for help.

Fuck my visa. I don’t care if I get fucking deported tomor

row by the DA. No one fucking touches Daphne like that. I push down on the gas. Hard.

The man looks over as my motorcycle comes up, but I don't fucking stop. I'm going to run him over.

He looks at me and, grabbing Daphne towards the SUV.

“Get off of me, Jake!” Daphne yells and manages to take advantage of his distracted gaze towards me to free herself.

So this is actually the fucking wanker Jake, is it? This wanker is in for a real fucking treat.