Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Fifteen

Not sure where he belongs? Why does this sound depressing? Now I want to look at him. I'm tempted to pull this blindfold off right this instant and get a clear picture of him... and his sorrow. But what will happen afterwards? Will he leave as he warned?

And this urge to feel him buried inside me, the dire need to have his manliness crush my fragility—what do I do with it? It's like he's channelling hormones, and now I want nothing but to find an ultimate pleasure.

But no, I won't ask him to fuck me. Hell no, I refuse to do so, because it's exactly what he wants. He's here to say 'you asked for it, Arabella, and I merely gave it to you. I'll hold myself together and let this pass.

"So, you're in Las Vegas mainly for the bid on this hotel?" I ask, trying to diverge my thoughts. Relaxed, my head is on his shoulder, his one hand hauling my mid-body to his side.

And I've gathered that he's onto a very big deal regarding an acquisition of the Imperial Palace Hotel—this very same hotel we're in right now. It wasn't hard to learn because I deal with the daily exchange of information he's currently doing with the Chinese.

Plus, I'm a business major so it's a piece of cake knowing about the contents.

"I'm more interested in the casino." His fingers are distractingly caressing my scalps. I don't move a muscle; I stay still, relishing his every move. "Do you have any idea how much this place can earn, Arabella?" From the tone of his voice, I think he's ecstatic talking about this subject.

"Um... Around $1.5 to 2 million a day? Well, that excluding the earnings from the gaming bets that are now trending the most, I suppose," I answer, using the sleazy knowledge I accumulate through serving drinks in big players' meetings and ordinary stuff I see in the daily course of my work line.

If we talk of underworld business, I dare say I know some ways around stuff in Las Vegas more than I would probably prefer. It gets scary knowing some stuff sometimes.

"You're well informed, Arabella. You're quite close to the figures." His voice sounds complementary, but knowing these shits hasn't done anything to me so it's nothing, really.

If only they could pay me at least half of what they spend on drinks and women, I'd be one of the financially well-off chicks in this Sin City.

"So, you're going to invest in this?" I'm tempted to run my hand on his chest, but I cower at the thought of his reaction.

Will he mind if I do it?

"Yes," he answers curtly. I suppose it means the end of the conversation as he asks, "This is your last year of college?"

Oh, fuck! Just the thought drives me nuts. I have so much catching up to do with my studies.

"Yeah," I breathe, and softly my palm rests on his chest. The first step, and luckily he doesn't seem to mind. "I'll start my classes on Monday, so I'll only be working for you depending on my schedule, just as we agreed."

I'm talking about the secretarial job, but what about this other job? Will he cut me some slacks when I'm too busy?

I swallow tightly, and haphazardly my fingers run over his chest. His muscles flex in response, and I automatically stop. Woah! He's just a man, isn't he? It's amusing.

"I won't interfere with your school, Arabella," he says, as though he can see through my mind. "But I'll still have you when I want to. That you can't change."

I immediately remove my hand from his body, pulling aside. The reminder that I'm his whatever-the-name-is doesn't seem to go easy on me. I'm just a whore who's selling her body for money, and he's the owner of this body now.