Page 6 of Power Struggle

Chapter Five

Sex is an interesting thing for me. I’ve always been a sexual person. At first, I’d used it as an escape method in my late teens and early twenties while in college. It was the first time I’d been allowed away from home for any extended period of time, and suffice it to say, I’d gone wild. Absolutely, recklessly wild.

What can you expect? Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Colorado…well…not quite. Though my parents, primarily my father, are incredibly rich, their wealth is nothing next to the billionaire Nicolai Saint who only recently got rid of his toy store empire. Even with the ownership transfer, he’s still sickeningly rich. Unlike my family, I hear Nicolai is actually a good man, but I digress. Point is: my father, Howard Hughes, is a self-made millionaire, and therefore, my mother is by proxy, who, after living a life of hardship in a trailer park, took to money like a fish to water. She soaked up the lifestyle like a sponge and forced it down my throat every chance she got.

So—when I rebelled, I rebelled good.

I learned very quickly in my sexual exploration that there wasn’t much I wouldn’t try at least once. I also discovered that through sex, particularly times when I would be in charge, or topping, I was able to become the most comfortable, confident, and brave version of myself. I clung to that knowledge, researched, tested the theory, and ran with it. Ten years later, I’m a 34-year-old Domme who comes alive in the bedroom and confidently dominates it the way I do the courtroom.

How-the-fuck-ever…one minute in Jackson Lowell’s arms, and I’m ready to drop to my knees, grip his thighs and beg him to fuck my throat while crying, “Yes, Daddy. I’d like some more, Daddy.” It’s jarring and terrifying. That’s why I ran all those months ago. I saw him and his potential to ruin me, and I got scared. He gave me an inch, and I, quite literally, took a mile. Many, many miles. A decision that I regretted immediately. But I stand by it. I have to. Otherwise…well, otherwise, he might really see me. And if he does, he’ll leave like everyone else. He’ll judge me like everyone else.

He’ll hurt me like everyone else.

I swallow thickly, the thought bringing me back to the present. His lips are trailing down my neck and shoulder at a torturously slow pace as he grinds his palm into my clit with more pressure than before. I gasp, my hips shooting forward as pleasure races through my body, clouding my mind. I couldn’t deny the chemistry between Jack and me even if I wanted to. It’s obvious. I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never been drawn to anyone before. I want him with every cell in my body and fiber of my being. Maybe that’s why…just this once, just this moment, I let go and sink into him.

My head drops back onto his shoulder as I roll my hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. With every sway, I grind my throbbing clit against his big hand, and with every ebb, my ass bounces off his even bigger cock. He chuckles, the sound muffled in the crook of my neck, but I can hear the hint of pain and arousal in his thick, deep voice. I smile proudly, enjoying the fact that I can torture him the same way he’s torturing me. My tiny lacy thong is soaked, and he’s barely just begun. It’s only right to make him walk around with a massive hard-on. Except, the thought causes the little green monster inside of me to rear its ugly head.

That can’t be right. I don’t care who looks at Jack’s dick or touches him. Hell, he can fuck who—nope. Absolutely not going down that road.

Desperate to shake the angry, jealous thoughts away, I tilt my head to the side, seeking his mouth, knowing it’ll send me over the edge. Catching him off guard, the pressure against my clit disappears, and his head rears back. I growl, my brows furrowed. Jack’s lip tips up mockingly as he cocks his head to the side. His beautiful green eyes twinkle in the low lighting, holding me captive as he slowly slips his hand up my sensitive inner thigh, dipping below my short dress. His dark blonde brow arches with a challenge.

I tuck my lips between my teeth, taking his challenge on and upping the ante. Just as the pads of his fingers reach my soaked panties and graze over my swollen lips, I reach back and grip his hard cock. His hips buck, and he sucks in a breath. I smirk, arching my own brows. Jack growls, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s shoved my panties aside and, with more accuracy than I’d think possible, shoves two thick fingers into my aching pussy. I barely stifle a scream. My hand flexes without thought, gripping his large erection through his slacks.

“What are you going to do now, Jackson?” I breathe. My mouth is dry as a dessert causing me to lick my lips. His eyes follow the movement and flare with something dark and possessive. My pussy clenches around his unmoving fingers. My hips are demanding that I ride his hand, but I stay still, refusing to be the first to move. We stand there in the middle of a crowd, surrounded by muffled moans, loud grunts, and even louder screams of pleasure. Sex and debauchery are happening all around us, mingling with fancy appetizers and well-dressed strangers, yet the only thing I can see is him. The only thing I can feel is him.

Jackson Fucking Lowell.

Chapter Six

We stare at one another, waiting to see who’ll break first. I’m slightly preoccupied fighting with the internal need to check him out, like always. A cursory glance shows me he’s dressed more casually than most of the men here, yet he stands out as though he’s a goddamned GQ model.

In form-fitting black slacks that cover his long, muscular legs like a second skin, I’ve no doubt his ass looks delectable in. The black button-down he’s wearing is just as tight, showing off his strong chest and broad shoulders. Jack isn’t a huge guy. I’ve always imagined that he has more of a swimmer’s body than anything. He’s taller than I am, at around 6’0. He works out daily. I know because I used to accidentally see him return to work and head to his in-office shower after lunch in his soiled gym clothes, looking like a fucking snack.

Okay. It wasn’t an accident. I perved and stalked him. Even went as far as waiting at the reception desk casually at 1:04 pm for the sweaty show. Every day. Can you blame me?

God, I miss sharing an office with him.

My mouth waters, and I force my gaze back to his face. His eyes are bright green with gold flecks. His hair is dark blonde and slicked back loosely in a haphazard style that screams I spent eight hours making it look this messy. My mind filters through images of ways I can truly mess it up. His skin is light, like mine, but there’s a dusting of reddish freckles across his nose that I find utterly adorable. His jaw and cheekbones are chiseled and bare. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jack with facial hair. In fact, besides the afternoons after the gym, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man even slightly undone.

He’s polite, put-together, and clean-cut. It’s easy to see, with just a quick glance, that he comes from a background of privilege like myself. Yet, he’s so damn kind; he lacks the inherent uppity behavior you’d expect from someone raised with immense wealth.

Jack smirks at me, tilting his pretty face to the side and bringing me back to the present. “Checking me out, Addy?” he murmurs heatedly.

Holy shit—have I just been standing here gaping at the man with my hand wrapped around his junk? Fuck.

Growling, I squeeze his dick again, not giving in to the need to yank his slacks down and let him fuck my fist and face. All of his previous cocky swagger disappears in an instant at the unspoken threat. Jackson leans forward, bringing his mouth less than an inch from mine. My heart rate spikes and my eyes drop down to his lips as the importance of this moment spears through me.

It dawns on me then… we’ve flirted. We’ve talked a big game. Our hands are currently touching our most intimate body parts yet—we’ve never even kissed. And God, how badly I want to kiss him.

This is it. This is it. This is it—my brain chants causing my heart to beat inexplicably faster and my pussy to throb around his fingers. Jack swallows thickly and closes the distance between us. 3, 2—

“Watch the fucking show like the obedient little slut I know you can be, and I’ll reward you.” His lips ghost over mine with every word, distracting me. That’s the only excuse I have for the momentary delay in my reaction.

Then, his words finally trickle in and hit me. My eyes slam open. When had they closed? Anger and frustration skyrockets inside of me, replacing some of the giddy feelings I’d stupidly let fill me just seconds ago. My hand squeezes his dick so hard I’m surprised I don’t yank it off. He grunts and winces, trying to pull away from me. I yank again and release him, jerking away. His fingers slip from my pussy as I take a step away, putting some much-needed distance between us. I’m surprised when I realize that despite my mental and emotional reaction to his words, my body is still dripping with excitement and arousal…for him.

“What the fuck, Addy?” he barks, palming his dick.

I adjust my dress as everything around us slowly begins to trickle in. Some people closest to us smile, completely unrepentant of the fact that they’d been watching our battle of wills. I shake my head and roll my shoulders back, turning to meet his eyes. His jaw ticks, and he takes a step toward me. I shake my head. My emotions are all over the place in a direct, painful contradiction to my body.

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