Seraphina St. Claire 의 작품

We left on a Saturday morning at seven.The garage was quiet when we went — the crew would open it later, Marge had the schedule, the work would continue in the way it continued when we weren't there, which was a thing I had come to trust and which still struck me occasionally as a specific kind of miracle. The place ran because of what had been built into it. Not because of any one person's constant presence.My father's bike and Jax's, side by side in the lot while we loaded.Not much to load. A change of clothes each, the tools we each carried as a matter of habit, the kind of kit that said: we expect to handle what comes up. My father's letter in my jacket pocket. Jax had something in his — he didn't say what, and I didn't ask, and we both understood that there were things you carried that belonged to you alone and that this understanding was itself a form of intimacy.The morning was the winter kind — cold and clear, the sky a particular pale blue that meant the day was going to

January arrived with the cold that the coastal region produced in its own specific way — not the hard, pressing cold of inland winters but something more lateral, the cold that came off the water and moved through you rather than against you, the cold that got into the garage despite the heating and required an extra layer at the bench.I had been at Cliff's End for seven months.The federal case against Darren had proceeded through its institutional stages with the measured pace that institutions maintained regardless of external pressure. He had entered a guilty plea in December — three counts, the exact charges filed in November. The sentencing was pending. Vanessa's proceedings were separate and still underway, her cooperation having narrowed her exposure but not eliminated it.Pryce had been charged. His attorney was doing what attorneys did.The record of my company's involvement had been formally corrected in every relevant filing. The professional damage was documented and ack

The conversation happened on a Friday night in December.Not a planned conversation — none of the important ones had been planned. It arrived the way things arrived between us: in the ordinary flow of an evening that had started as an ordinary evening and then become something else because the conditions were right and we had both stopped waiting for a better moment.We were in the cabin. Not the garage — the cabin, which had shifted in status over the months from the place I slept to the place we spent evenings when the work was done. He was reading something on his phone, I was sketching the next phase of the foundation curriculum in a notebook, and the radio was playing at a volume that was ambient rather than intentional.He set down his phone.I looked up.He looked at me with the full, unhurried attention that I had come to understand as his mode of saying: I'm going to say something that matters."I want to tell you something," he said."All right," I said."When you arrived,"

It was ready on a Monday in late November.I had been working on it for nearly three months — not continuously, not to the exclusion of everything else, but steadily, the way you work on something that is both a job and something more than a job. The Indian had come in as a customer rebuild, referred through one of the garage's regular contacts, but somewhere in the process of taking it apart and understanding what it needed and putting it back together with the care that the structure deserved, it had become something I was invested in.Good machines, my father had said. A kept promise.The final check took two hours on the Monday morning. I went through every system — the fuel, the electrics, the brakes, the suspension, the chain tension. I consulted the notes I had kept through the rebuild, checking that every decision made along the way had been executed correctly and that nothing had been assumed rather than confirmed.It was right. All of it.I kicked it over.The engine caught

The Cole Wolfe Foundation was formally registered on a Thursday in late autumn.I know the season because of the specific quality of the light that day — the low, slanted autumn light of the coastal region that turned everything amber in the late afternoon, particularly the garage metal, which caught it and held it in a way that looked almost deliberate.Jax signed the final documents at the cabin table.I was across from him, not because I needed to be there for the signing but because he had asked me to be, simply and without explanation, and I had come.Birch was present by video — a small square in the corner of the laptop screen, professional and efficient, providing the legal confirmation that the signatures were being properly witnessed and the foundation formally established.It took eleven minutes.Afterward, Birch said congratulations and signed off and the screen went dark.Jax sat at the table with the pen in his hand.I looked at the documents. At the foundation's name at

We had our first real argument on a Tuesday.Not about the investigation, not about the garage or the crew or any of the things that had generated friction in the early weeks. About something smaller and therefore more representative — the kind of argument that comes when two people are close enough that the ordinary friction of their personalities has real surfaces to work against.It was about the foundation curriculum.I had been developing the programme design for several weeks, and I had arrived at a structure I thought was solid. Communication modules, project management frameworks, client relationship fundamentals — the things I knew how to teach because I had built them myself. The professional side of the apprenticeship, designed to complement the mechanical training the affiliated garages would provide.I had presented it to Jax.He had listened, and then he had said: "It's too corporate."I had looked at him."The language," he said. "Client relationship fundamentals. Proje

MargoAs we climb the creaky stairs up to Theron ’s dad’s bedroom, he takes my hand in his.“If he ’s feeling particularly ill today, don’tworry about it,” he says. “We can talk to him another time.”“We’re going to talk to him now,” I tell him. “This is important. And there ’s no time like thepresent.”When we enter the room, Pru ’s sitting beside Mr. Morris ’ bed, and I nod to both of them.“Margo, how lovely to see you again,” she says, getting up to give me a hug. “And you too,Theron.”“Oh, I’m an afterthought as usual,” Theron says, with a grin.She squeezes his arm and says, “You know I always like to see you. But I’ll get out of your way so you guys can talk.”She leaves the room and Theron shuts the door behind her.“ So, what is this ever so pressing thing you’ve been wanting to talk to me about?” Mr. Morris asks, his tone as grump as it was over dinner the other night.“Dad, I’ve been trying to tell you about some issues with the financial statements,” Theron begins, stan

TheronIhandcuff Margo ’s wrists to the leg of the bed. Then I whip out my cock and shove it down her throat. She eats it eagerly, licking the head and sliding her lips up and down on my shaft.“You take this cock in your mouth now, whenever I want you to, now that you’re my little bought and paid for slut,” I tell her.She looks up at me, surprised at my language. But I slap her with my cock, all over her face, and she can’t do anything to stop me because she ’s cuffed to the leg of my bed.I push my dick in and out of her mouth and make her deep throat me. She gags and chokes but I keep it up until I’m almost about to come.Not yet, I think. I need to take her again.“Lay down flat on the floor and put your ass up in the air for me,” I tell her, and she does it, of course, my obedient little whore.I spank and squeeze her ass while she moans inpain. I put the condom on and then I take my cock and put it in between her perfect legs, spreading her pussy wide and the shoving myself ro

TheronAs soon as we’re in my apartment my hands are all over Margo ’s body. I just can’t seem to helpmyself. I silently curse myself, wondering why I have no self-control when it comes to her. I just need to see and feel that sweet pussy of hers again.But she doesn’t seem to want to let me off easy.When I kiss her she kisses me back but then she pulls away and says, “ So, next weekend, huh? Whenwere you going to tell me?”I grab her ass and squeeze it hard, pulling her in close to me.“I’m the one who asks the questions around here,” I tell her. “I bought you fair and square.”“Yes, you did,” she says, her body tightening up and her face looking a bit surprised.Now I feel bad. I didn’t mean to scare her. I just have no control over my emotions andIdon’t want to show her what she ’s doing to me.I hadn’t even planned to bring her back here tomy place. To have sex with her again. But ever since I saw her shape accentuated by the dress she wore to the restaurant– and, I have to ad

MargoI couldn’t wait for today to get here. As I walk into the swanky Radish restaurant, I keep an eye out for Theron, excited to see him again even though ourparting after our first encounter had been awkward. I could swear he wanted to say more, do more, but was holding back.Iknow it ’s not my place to question why he does the things he does. This is just a paidarrangement. Isn’t it?I know logically that it is, but emotionally, I can’t help but wonder if there ’s something more to it.I look down at the huge rock on my hand, still in awe of its size and beauty. It might represent a fake marriage, but it ’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever owned.Theron isn’t here, but when I tell the hostess that we have a reservation, she leads me to table near the back. An old man is seated in a wheelchair at a table and an even older woman is opening a napkin andplacing it on his lap.“Oh hello there,” she says, looking up at me with kind eyes.“You must be Nadia,” the old man

TheronI grab Margo ’s amazing ass and look down at it bouncing up and down as my cock goes in and out of her pussy. My God. Her pussy is so tight and so wet. I’m glad I paid for it because all I want to do is fuck it.I slow down, reminding myself to be careful. This is all just an arrangement. I’m not actually going to settle down. I’m just pretending to, for my father.When I see her curvy ass I can’t help but speed up again, thrusting my cock hard and deep inside her.“I’m coming again,” she says, moaning and groaning as I have my way with her.I can’t believe how beautiful she is, howobedient yet also so feisty. It makes me want to give all my power over to her, but I can’t. I have to remain in control.“ Spread your legs wider,” I command her, and she does.This stance allows me to rub her clit while I fuck her from behind.She immediately starts coming again, all over my cock. So much wetness is gushing out from her that I can feel it on my hand.“You’re my whore now,” I tell

MargoTheron leads me into a room in the back, which I expect to be some sort of sex dungeon, or perhapssomething that smells dank and sleazy, like the VIProom of a strip club must smell. Still, I’m rather happy to follow him, because I can tell he wants to take me right now, right this minute, and I want the same thing.In a way, it will ease the tensions between us to do the physical deed and then move onto the fakeromance part of this— whatever that is. But I can’tdeny I’m most excited for this part: to feel his hands on me, all over me, to feel him in me.When we enter the room, I’m surprised by its ambiance.But, I guess I shouldn’t be, since this is a place for billionaires with luxurious taste. Candles areburning, classical music is playing, and a large king bed with a canopy post awaits us. I almost feel as if I’m a princess in a fairy tale, even though in reality, I’m a common whore. Except being paid two million dollars for giving up my virginity is anything butcommon.

SERENA”me.Dante’s eyes twinkle, and he trails a finger down the side of my face. His touch is nothing more than a caress, but I feel it deep in my soul. “There are no dates. No dinners. No sweet and gentle sex. There is nothing but hard fucking, deep and fast with the occasional moan.”My eyes go so wide, I’m scared they might pop out. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Is that what he wants from me?Suddenly him buying me makes more sense. He doesn’t want dates, love, and companionship. He just wants someone for sex … nothing more, and I’m marrying him. I’m being forced into a marriage that is doomed from the start.“And they … want that?”He shrugs. “They’re whores, and that’s their job, so I suppose so, yeah.” His tone is mocking and annoying me further. He sought out some whore to sleep with, only to return to sleep in bed with me. I feel sickened, and even though I know I’m not ready to sleep with him, I cannot stop the emotions I have from bubbling to the surface.“

SERENAhe hours drag on into eternity, and I actually find myself waiting like a dog for my owner to return. It’s a horrible analogy, but it’s the truth. I watch the sunset through the window, feeling more isolated from the real world than I ever have in my entire life.Worse, I feel myself melting into Dante’s touch.Kindness is what he showed me last night when he handed me that little notebook. It was the kindest thing he’s done since I arrived here, and it made me want to see if there is more goodness inside him. It’s such a naive thing to assume that a man who kills, steals, and buys a person has any good in him.Darkness starts to blanket the room, and I move to turn on one of the lights at the same time the door opens. I hold back a little shriek, and I’m almost disappointed when I see it’s just a maid entering the room and not Dante. The one that gave me the note hasn’t returned since that day. It’s been someone new every time, and I wonder why she’s never come back. I’m sure

DANTEWhen we arrive at the run-down building, I decide there is no better time than now to check in on the staff.“Check with the bartender and see how everything is going. Let them know we will bring someone in soon,” I tell Aleksei as I check my phone, my finger hovering over the camera app. Watching her isn’t going to sedate my need or help matters. I need to fuck someone, someone who canhandle a hard pounding. God knows if I fucked Serena the way I want to, she would break in half beneath me.Aleksei nods, acknowledging what I’ve asked him to do, and we walk in together, the two guards who usually man the doors aren’t in place, which angers me. Walking inside, I survey the bar; there are a few patrons in it, and the stage has a couple men sat eye-balling the dancing chick. Music beats through the place, and a stripper works the pole, grinding her ass against it like it’s a cock. Stale smoke filters into my lungs when I take a breath, combined with sweat and perfume.

DANTE“吼ow are things?” Aleksei asks as he walks into my office, his face a complete mask. If he cansee how tense I am, then surely my other men can.In the mafia, any type of weakness is like a loose thread. Anyone could tug on that weakness until you unravel, spilling all your contents. That’s why I’ve never allowed myself the pleasure of having a weakness, not until the little raven-haired beauty entered my life.“Things are going well. I need you to find a replacement for Martha. Turns out, she was a traitor.” I stretch out in my chair and think back to how oblivious Serena acted last night, and still, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with her.Yes, she took the note from her father, read it, and hid it, but she didn’t disobey me directly, not when I hadn’t asked her a single question about it. Plus, after I read the note, it was clear that Serena didn’t know anything, she’s not trying to escape, and that’s really what I would be angry about.I am, however, curious to know if

SERENAstare at the crumpled-up paper in my hand, reading it for the hundredth time, and still, I’m not sure if it’s real or not. And if it is real, what am I going to make of it?ELENA,I will come for you, sweetheart. Be strong, DadTHE NOTE IS HANDWRITTEN, the lettering tells me that it is indeed my father who wrote this note. The question is, why? Is he really coming for me? Do I even want him to come after he sold me like an object? I’ve had days to think about how cruel he was in letting me go, giving me away like I was nothing.My life here is worse than the one spent at my father’s place, but honestly, not by much. I had a few more things to do at home, but not many. According to Dante, I will have more freedom at some point, so being here seems like the better option.Dante expects things from me, things I’m not sure I can give him, but what are my other choices? If I somehow manage to get back home, I will either be alone for the rest of my life, or my father will marry me

DANTE’ve always known what kind of person I am, a ruthless, cruel, selfish bastard who only cares about power and revenge. There has been a darkness deep inside of me for as long as I can remember, but that darkness was always held at bay by my mother. She was theone good thing in my life, the one person who loved me no matter how fucked up I was.The day she died, the evil inside of me spread like a fucking cancer, and it hasn’t stopped growing since. There are times when I think that’s all that is left. Darkness is the only thing remaining, it’s all I am and all I’ll ever be. Today, I have my doubts about that theory, because right now, I’m feeling something I haven’t in a very longtime … remorse.Serena is sleeping in my arms, her body curled up into itself, trying to get away from me even in her sleep. As she should be.I lost control yesterday, and I broke my word. I told her it was just a shower, but I couldn’t keep my lust for her in check. I asked for more, knowing damn well