Page 1 of Volatile

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Chapter One

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The woman crawled towardshim, blue eyes cast down. Slowly. Methodically. Exactly as instructed. His cock was fisted in one hand, ready and waiting, a half-consumed glass of whiskey in the other.

She crept closer, her tiny frame diminishing within his larger presence. He leaned back in the chair and raised the glass to his lips, relishing the warm burn slithering down his throat. She came to his thighs and assumed the position, waiting for his next command.

He took one last sip before resting the tumbler on the small table beside him and filled his palm with a handful of her hair instead. Long and silky. Easy to slip through his fingers if he didn’t grip hard enough. Tightening his hold, he lowered her head, bringing her lips to the tip of his cock and pressing her down, gliding her tongue over the tight skin.

He didn’t ease up until he received indication that she couldn’t take any more. Until her body tensed. It wasn’t her nature to struggle, to fight his authority. It was up to him to pay attention and act accordingly. And it was exactly what he needed at the moment.

After a short time, he released his grip to allow her to work her mouth and give him the distraction he came for. His breath picked up watching her service him with the perfect amount of suction, the correct pace. He’d taught her well.

She welcomed him fully into her eager mouth as her blonde strands floated over the tops of his thighs. From that direction, he could easily imagine the woman down on her knees was another one entirely. In the dimmed light of the room with her face concealed between his legs, with her small, naked body trembling and curled inward, with her pale hair spilling down...

He could almost convince himself that she was Julia.

Almost.

He was fucking pathetic.

His imminent release gave him a reprieve from his thoughts, and once he knew the brink was near, he just wanted it over and done. No sense in prolonging the act. Regaining a firm hold on her hair, he pumped her head faster and deeper, and a shudder ripped visibly over her, her face likely stained with tears by this point. He knew this submissive like the back of his clenched fist; she derived more pleasure from his control than most of the others combined.

He palmed her throat with his other hand, needing to feel movement under her skin as she swallowed. Tightening his fingers around the sides of her neck made her body shake, spurring on his first surge. The rest shot from him in rapid bursts, unloading down her throat.

The gratification he received from emptying himself gave him a brief moment of peace, but it didn’t last long. It never did.

He released her, which gave her permission to release as well, and she drew her head upwards, her soft lips dragging along his heated skin. She’d done well, pleasuring him exactly to his specifications, but it wasn’t enough. It never was.

She wasn’t the one at fault. He was the one who’d changed. She disengaged from his softening erection and remained kneeled in front of him, her gaze lowered and cheeks flushed. He brought his hand to her face and lightly stroked the warm skin with the backs of his fingers.

“You have pleased me, Lizbeth. Thank you.”

Her lips curved at the praise, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. There was no need for her to use words, and he didn’t want to hear her voice. Fortunately, she knew the rules and followed them well.

She rested against him for another minute before quietly stepping up and gathering her things. After dressing quickly, she exited the room, leaving him alone. Whether she was done for the night or would find another to use her body wasn’t his concern. Lizbeth knew how to play in this world. He never worried for her.

He raised the glass once more, draining the remaining liquid and letting his eyes drop for a quick second. It was time to get the hell out of there.

“Jon!”

His eyes snapped open to see a flash of red hair and a narrowed gaze in the doorway aimed directly at him. Jacque took a step inside, and he set down the melting ice before tucking himself back into his pants. No need to rush and act all dramatic. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before.

“You of all people should know better. There’d better not be a drop of liquor in that glass.”

“Not anymore. I made sure of it.” Her scrutiny intensified; she obviously didn’t appreciate the humor. “I stand by the rules, Jacque.” Hell, he’d helped make them. No alcohol was to be consumed during play parties, and for good reason. Control had to be strictly maintained at all times. “I’m not playing tonight, just getting my dick sucked.”

Jacque threw up her arms and sighed loudly. The corner of his mouth ticked upward. She couldn’t stay mad at him.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs overseeing the festivities?” he asked.

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