Empire of Lust: Chapter 18

At the expense of being called a stalker with serial creeper tendencies, I find out where exactly Aspen is tonight.

Thanks to Caroline’s zero sense of hiding information. She was so easy to manipulate into telling me where Aspen is that it’s a little suspicious.

Especially with her devil-may-care chuckle at the end and the ambiguous, “You really should’ve seen those diaries.”

At any rate, I acquired the information I needed and got rid of Nate on the pretense that it’s an important business call.

He’s been spending the entire day either trying to kidnap me or force me to call my daughter. According to him, I should apologize. According to me, he’s a daughter-stealer and should go fuck himself.

Besides, she’s the one who crossed the line this time. To think I’m a woman-beater is the worst misjudgment anyone, let alone my own flesh and blood, has inflicted on me.

In view of the fact that I lived my whole life watching my mother being emotionally abused—abuse is abuse—any variation of that poison is beneath me.

Unless it’s bashing someone’s head in.

Conclusion of the story is, Gwen has to be the one who apologizes. And as much as putting a rift between us is no different than discarding a part of me, she needs this lesson.

And I need her mother to stop being fucking difficult.

For that, I have to find her.

It proves to be harder than I thought, considering I’ve been roaming the Carsons’ residence for half an hour and have caught no sight of her.

It’s large, ancient, and lacks a soul, like all rich people mansions. The old dog’s daughter-in-law is throwing some sort of a charity ball to help orphaned children. She looked serious about it, too, when I barged in here earlier without an invitation, as usual, but with a hefty check for the cause.

I doubt the Barbie-like blondie shares her father-in-law’s view that a charity’s only purpose is to serve as a tax haven for the rich.

The house has been decorated with soft lights and extravagant tables covered in red velvet. Screens upon screens show a carefully made video of children’s testimonials that no one pays attention to.

The guests mingle in closed circles, either gossiping or rekindling relationships. The actual topic of this night, children, is somewhere below nonexistent.

I stroll into the ball and eventually find myself in a group of old buffalos who were friends with my father.

I’m only half listening and definitely not entertaining them. Many of these fools thought that, as my father’s heir, I’d continue to invest in their businesses for the sake of our interpersonal relationships.

They soon found out that I don’t attend their birthday parties, have no interest in their backyard koi ponds, and I’m heartless enough to watch them go bankrupt instead of being pulled down into a hole with them.

My father was an investor, yes, but too attached for Wall Street’s liking. Which is why my fortune is way greater than his ever was.

I’m practical, logical, and absolutely don’t go around following people.

Except for a certain redheaded femme fatale, obviously.

I even had to take drastic measures by coming here.

Because, of fucking course, Aspen’s event had to happen in our competitor’s compound.

Carson & Carson is one of the few rival law firms that I have any semblance of respect toward. Despite the fact that the managing partner, Alexander Carson, used to be my father’s friend and attorney.

He’s old-fashioned, likes shady businesses because they pay well, and isn’t afraid to dirty his hands.

In short, everything Benjamin Shaw was.

Nate and I became his competitors when we started Weaver & Shaw, and we would’ve crushed him if it hadn’t been for his son. New, young blood, and with revolutionary ideas that changed his father’s old ways.

That’s where I spot Aspen—while half listening to the old men’s yapping about taxes. With the younger Carson. Asher.

I have to take a sip of my Macallan to keep from foaming at the mouth.

Aspen has always been a beautiful woman, even when she was an infuriating creature who loved to be a thorn in my side for sport.

There’s a sharp edge to her beauty and it has less to do with her red hair and high cheekbones and more to do with her cutting gaze and erect posture.

If confidence could be put in categories, hers is the quiet one. It’s bold but not enough to have her screaming or letting irrationality take over. She’s determined to a fault, too, which is why I know that when she decides something, there’s no deterring her from it.

Not tonight, though.

I rake my gaze over her simple long-sleeved black dress that reaches the floor. She even has a fashionable scarf covering her neck, for obvious reasons.

The thought of her staring at the angry hickeys I left on her in the mirror makes my cock rock-hard.

He’s been in a constant wake-up mode since last night and I refuse to be a pubescent and jack off.

The blinding desire to grab her from between those men and ram my dick inside her cunt is so overwhelming that I’m surprised my cock doesn’t explode from my dress pants.

She smiles at the two men standing with her. One is Carson junior and the other is a man who appears to be in his mid-forties. Strongly built, blank-faced, and with an erect posture that resembles mine.

I recognize a man of power when I see one and he’s definitely on the spectrum.

I contemplate how to send him to the next planet without drawing anyone’s attention. Or maybe I should draw attention to the fact that he’s married—judging by the ring on his finger—and is still standing too close to Aspen.

Just when I’m entertaining the idea of committing arson in Alexander Carson’s mansion, Aspen’s chameleon eyes meet mine.

They widen, her smile falters, and she clutches her flute of champagne tighter.

I grin, loving the feeling of catching her off guard a bit too much. Probably because she’s not the type of person to be caught off guard.

“Surprise,” I mouth from across the room.

She purses her lips in a clear indication of “stay away.”

Not even offering an “excuse me,” I leave the old farts and march toward her. If she was the only one in the circle, she’d remove her shoe and hit me upside the head with it.

But since there’s company and societal standards to uphold, she lets the emotions fester inside her to the point of near explosion.

And I know that, because redness spills from her neck to her chin, and the flames ignite in her eyes.

I make it worse by smiling when I barge uninvited into their small circle. “Carson, how have you been?”

Asher shakes my hand. He’s in his late twenties, the same age as Sebastian, Nate’s nephew, whom he practically raised, so he’s, therefore, been around us all our lives.

“Kingsley.” He raises a brow, looking more and more like a younger, solemn version of his father. “I heard you were in a coma, but you look as good as the devil.”

“And just as manipulative, so you better protect your clients before I steal them.”

“Noted,” he says with a slight narrow of his eyes. “Aspen is a lot more approachable than you in business matters. At least she doesn’t threaten me in my own house.”

“Property is proportional,” says me, who’s been fighting tooth and nail for my family home. I finally give the other man my attention. “Where are my manners? Introduce us, Ms. Leblanc.”

She gives me a glare that could cut through my nonexistent heart. “Jonathan, this is Kingsley Shaw. The co-owner of the firm where I work. Kingsley, this is Jonathan King. An English businessman who’s investing in the States.”

We shake hands, firmly, harshly even, and he barely escapes not having his fingers crushed. But the more I tighten my hold, the harder he does it as well, until we let go at the same time. What type of message is the fucker trying to send?

It’s with effort that I guard my nonchalant stance. “I didn’t know Ms. Leblanc’s interests reached the other side of the pond.”

He offers a reserved smile and speaks in a posh British accent that’s straight out of some historical show. “She’s resourceful that way, Ms. Leblanc. One of the best overseas solicitors I’ve worked with.”

I grind my molars and I’m not sure if it’s because of his words or how she glows with a prideful smile at said words.

“You’re one of my most valuable clients, Mr. King.”

He raises his glass. “To more fruitful partnerships.”

Asher and Aspen raise their glasses. I don’t.

“Glad to know Weaver & Shaw is of value to you,” I say instead. “Will your wife be joining us, Mr. King?”

“Unfortunately, no. I spare her the dullness of these events whenever possible.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Aspen offers, and although it’s a statement that could be said out of courtesy, it ticks the last box of my patience.

“Indeed,” I say with masked anger, then swiftly but firmly grab Aspen by the arm. “If you’ll excuse us, gentleman. Ms. Leblanc and I have matters to attend to.”

I don’t even wait for their response as I drag her by my side and down the hall.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hisses under her breath, practically jogging to keep up with my long strides. “Kingsley! Let me go.”

Her nails dig into my hand, but no matter how much she scratches and claws, I don’t release her.

The audience that watches our movements might as well be invisible. All I can see are shades of black, red, and an undeniable urge.

I push her inside one of the rooms and slam her against the door.

She gasps, her lips falling open. “What the—”

Her words end in a gasp when I crash my lips against hers.

She’s stunned for a second before she tries to bite me, mumbling and clashing her mouth with mine.

Aspen and I don’t just kiss, we war.

We go to lengths that no one else would approach.

I grab a fistful of her fiery hair, biting her lip as hard as she bites mine. A metallic taste explodes in my mouth, staining my lips, and I’m not sure if it’s hers or my own.

I don’t care either.

Sinking my fingers into her dress, I bunch it up until it reaches her waist.

When my fingers meet her bare pussy, I groan, pulling away from her lips. “You’re not only soaking wet, but you came prepared to be fucked.”

“Screw you, asshole. How dare you interfere with my work—”

I thrust two fingers inside her cunt and that’s enough to cut off her words.

Her eyes droop and her breathing hardens, but she mutters, “I’m going to k-kill you…if you get in my business again…oh fuck.”

“Right, fuck, and it’s not recommended to threaten me with murder when your cunt is clenching around my fingers.”

“You…have…no…right…shit.”

I shut her up with my lips on hers as she shakes around my fingers. I love how a few rough thrusts and some clitoral stimulation are able to throw this woman over the edge.

She’s a fucking sex goddess.

Still gripping her by the hair, I pull out of her and drag her to the tall window that overlooks the back garden.

Her reaction is delayed due to the orgasm, considering that I have to practically carry her. I slam her front against the glass and she gasps, but I don’t give her time to process what’s happening as I free my cock and thrust into her from behind.

Fuck condoms.

Nothing will be a barrier between me and the warmth of this infuriating woman.

My hand rests on her hip and my other clutches her jaw with non-negotiable command. “Did you like being praised by that motherfucker, huh?”

Her legs shake and her pussy swallows me whole, but she has the audacity to glare back at me. “I did. Not everyone is a jerk like you are.”

“And yet, I’m the one who has my cock up your tight little cunt, sweetheart.” I accentuate my words with a few harsh and fast pounds that shatter her breaths. “From now on, you’ll erase any other man from your life, got it?”

“Screw you.”

I release her waist and slap her ass cheek. “That’s not the right answer. Now, say it.”

She yelps, her moans echoing in the darkness. “N-no.”

My palm meets her flesh, but it’s so much stronger this time that she screams. “Try again, sweetheart.”

“Stop it…damn it…”

Slap.

“Not until you give the right answer.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Watch me.” I give her ass three consecutive slaps that leave her gasping and clenching around me. “You’re such a little whore, sweetheart. Just a few smacks and you’re swallowing my dick.”

“Asshole…”

I release her chin and slide my thumb along the crack until I find her back hole. “You mean this one? Mmm, it feels virgin and ready to be fucked.”

Aspen goes still. “Kingsley…don’t…”

“Not today.” I thrust my thumb into her ass. “But one day, you’ll take my cock up this ass like a good girl, then you’ll scream so loud that the world will know you’re being fucked by me.” She trembles and I use the chance to smack it. “You still didn’t answer me.”

Her surprised noise of pleasure pierces the air, but she mutters, “No.”

“If you want to be able to sit at all, give me the right answer.”

She glares at me over her shoulder and dares to smile. “Still…a no. Show me your worst.”

I turn into a pure fucking animal then. My rhythm is frantic, deep, and I feel like I’ll never be finished with her. I thrust a finger into her back hole, too, fingering her while fucking her and slapping her ass until small whimpers escape her.

“I’m going to break the goddamn stubbornness out of you, Aspen, and when I’m done, I’ll do it all over again.” I grab her by the hair so her lips are mere inches away from my own. “Say yes.”

She shakes her head in my hold, even as tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Whether they’re pleasure or pain tears, I don’t know.

“Look at your expression.” I direct her face to our reflection in the glass. “You see the ecstasy in it? That’s what any guest can see if he walks outside and looks up. He’ll see you taking my dick like the filthy little whore you are. Will you give them a show of how thoroughly you’re being fucked by me? Or will you be a good girl and only show your pleasure to me?”

Her lips part. “King…stop saying things like that…”

“Say the magic word.”

“No—” Her moaned word ends on a gasp when I slap her already red ass cheek.

She comes then, hard, and with a throaty sound that triggers my own orgasm. My balls tighten and my back jerks in a straight line as I drive into her with wild, deep thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I empty inside her for so long that I think it won’t end. When I pull out, my cum slides down her legs and onto her shoes and I can’t help following the path with greedy eyes.

She slumps against the glass, the hickeys I left on her neck visible from underneath the crumpled scarf that’s as disheveled as she is.

I wrap a fistful of her bright hair around my hand and pull her to me until her back is flush against my chest.

“Let go of me,” she whines in a vulnerable voice. “I’m sensitive.”

I find the fair skin of her neck, right between two fading hickeys, and bite. Harshly.

“Ow, that hurts! Why do you keep biting me like an animal in heat?”

“I’m better than an animal. I’m always in heat.” I roll my hips to prove a point.

“Holy shit.” She gives me the stink eye. “How can you still be hard?”

“My dick and I agree that we won’t stop.” I bite her neck again, this time sucking on her flesh. “Not until you give us the right answer, sweetheart.”

And then I’m claiming her again.

And again.

And fucking again.