King Edward Love Chair Novels & Stories

His powerful name, unconsciously caused Edward to straighten his spine. For some reason, he could swore, he had heard this name before. Where? He couldn't remember. But, he didn't had any time to ponder as the elevator hindered finally, followed by it's electrical door opening to the sides. Smirking to himself, Edward walked out of the door first in rather smug manner, as if to give Theodore an impression that he owned the place. The Chancellor was sitting on his seat, behind the desk, doing some work on his apple computer. He was yet to address the both men infront of him.

Hate how my body moves toward a chair before my brain has fully processed the command. We start moving toward our usual seats. Gray always sits in the chair to Edward's right—the heir's position, though I hate thinking of it that way. It makes this family sound like a monarchy, which isn't far from the truth. Isabella sits beside Gray, I sit on the left with my mother, and there's always one empty seat at the table. But before we can settle in, Edward speaks again. "Grayson, Jason—stand up." ‘Who the fuck is Jason?’

I pleaded. "It hurts everywhere Xander. It hurts" "I'm sorry. Be strong. You are strong." I kept reassuring her. "Aww how sweet!" Morgan mocked and finished by laughing evilly in a high pitched voice. I turned to Edward. "Let her go. I am the one you want. Why are you doing this?" I asked him and he finally showed his anger. His features contorted and he flung one of the chairs to the side, scattering it on the wall, creating a loud noise within the hall.

A shiver went through me, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from begging him to do that again. My eyes looked from station to station growing bigger with each and every piece of equipment that I recognized. I looked over to find Jordan and Jack engrossed in a conversation about the carpentry on several of the items. The innovation and imagination that went into every piece seemed to impress them greatly. I looked at the piece in front of it and recognized it as a kneeling chair. It was designed for the sub to kneel and bend over the flat surface on top, presenting her backside at the perfect position for a spanking or other various torturing ideas.

The interrogation and the execution were over. What remains undone now was the investigation. The useless investigation for they already know who was behind everything – Edom. Ashriel sat on her chair. The grand chair has a red velvet cushion, a frame made of gold adorned with diamonds, and a lion crafted on the armrest that had blue and green diamonds as eyes. An eagle was also crafted on the top rail with red diamonds as eyes. It was a chair that was the epitome of luxury and the symbol of her power, authority, and responsibility. It was the chair that Edom greedily desired to have. The chair that was protected by many blood – both innocent and not. If not for the responsibility Ashriel ca

Now I get to watch the love of my life slobber all over her little skinny ass when he doesn't even know I'm alive. Edie turned and walked slowly, her hips moving back and forth. Her pants fit her perfectly and showed no imperfections, not even a panty line. Obviously, she had a toned body. Edie gazed around the room, as if not sure where to sit until Tom kicked a chair out with his foot from his table and stood beside it. "Have a seat, Edie. I don't bite." "I hear you're the law around here. And I don't want any trouble. I learned my lesson." Her voice was soft and sincere.

​At the head of the curved mahogany dais sat Edward Lockett. ​The aging patriarch of the Lockett dynasty wore his signature bespoke three-piece charcoal suit, his white hair combed back with immaculate precision, his aristocratic face hardened into an expression of cold, unbothered fury. He clutched his silver-topped cane in one hand, glaring down at the empty seat at the opposite end of the table where his son was supposed to sit.

None of that is all that extraordinary though. I freeze in the doorway of my office. Instead of my usual ergonomic chair, there is a throne behind my desk. A massive, plush leather recliner that looks like it belongs in a first-class airline cabin. It has lumbar support, a footrest, and I’m pretty sure it has a massage function. "He had the maintenance crew move it in an hour ago," Enzo explains calmly. "He said your back needs support." I stare at the chair. It looks comfortable as hell. It’s also completely ridiculous behind my sleek, modern glass desk. This is not a battle I want to pick though.

When the numbers showed I had grown, he clicked his tongue and frowned at the tape as if it had betrayed him. "Eddie, you've grown nearly two inches this month." He sounded disappointed and worried. "Do you know what that means?" I stared at my bare feet, too afraid to answer. "It means you're taking up more vertical space. Your shadow is getting bigger." He rolled up the tape and looked around. "To offset the extra confinement you're causing, we'll have to get rid of the single armchair." That chair was where Mom always sat to read. I couldn't bear to meet her eyes. Because of me, she would lose her only spot to relax.

But these chairs are never filled. David’s office is beautifully elaborate. He has a large black leather chair, which would look incredibly tacky was it not for the fact that it goes so well with the large oak table. He has a set of three trays on his desk; one each for “In”, “Out”, and, as someone has jokingly written (he’s not sure who but he has his suspicions), “Shake it all about”.