Page 17 of Corrupted

Ivy’s making a major mistake.

I can’t help it, though. I let her hold my hand as she takes me to her tiny car. How do her three friends fit in here? I can barely squeeze half my thigh in the passenger’s seat.

“Where do you want to go?” she asks once she’s put on her seatbelt. She’s so proper that I’m hard again thinking of what I made her do a moment ago.

“To your place.” I know where it is. My eyes have detailed it, handing me images and contracts. My men almost bugged the place. This woman has regular meetings with the head of state, her boyfriend, and her most trusted security advisor. I decided against it. Bugging her home felt wrong to me at the time.

Ivy’s home is close to the Queen I hospital, and it’s housing for the medics of Katantia. I’m pretty sure the walls are made of sandpaper.

It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

She drives because I fear that if I take the wheel, I’ll take her back to the palace. Felicita would probably cook us breakfast in the morning and congratulate me for being a fine Katantian citizen and fucking my eyeballs out all night, but… No. I have responsibilities, and I keep my affairs separate. Not that I ever had affairs.

Ivy’s thighs tremble. I’ve put my hand between her thighs, and I’m teasing her. I can feel how hot she is for me. Her pussy is calling to me, but I ignore her.

I’m many things, but I won’t risk another car accident to devastate my family.

“I-I don’t h-have any alcohol. We should get some—”

“No stops. Take us to your place.” I gaze at her and how she’s wrapped my suit jacket around her body. I should’ve probably fucked her on the street and left her there. We’re one fuck away from becoming a tragedy, but I’m in a funny mood.

And when I’m feeling funny, I don’t care who I hurt.

Ivy Lin picked the wrong night to be in my presence.

I had a taste of her tears, and I want them more than anything now. I’ve forgotten my birthday, my party, my appointments tomorrow… If I manage to bottle up this woman’s tears, I won’t need the Hennessy.

A couple of minutes later, we’re in her neighborhood. The multi-story apartment complex was funded by some billionaire fool from SoCal, and for the first time, I feel glad that we have such rich idiots in the world. Outside of being my fuck for the night, Ivy and her colleagues provide an essential service for my family and the country.

They deserve to live in secure and modernized homes.

Ivy parks her tiny electric car. Silence takes over, and I start browsing appropriate cars for my psychiatrist. She can’t drive around in this old death trap.

What is Ivy waiting for? I glance at her, and I find her seeking my guidance. I’m used to being the boss of my employees, but she’s seemingly enamored by the idea of Katantianownership.I’ve never done this before, but unfortunately, I’ve experienced how Fylox and Kamila play theirgames. Katantian couples and their strange sex habits are hard to escape outside of the palace.

I get out of the car, and I open her door. She slides into place next to me. She’s not short, but she’s not Kamila’s size either. Plus, she’s not wearing heels. My schoolgirl for the night bats her eyelashes at me, enchanting me with her doe eyes.

She locks up her silly car, and then she guides me into her apartment building. I approve of its security measures already. There are cameras at the gates. She must scan her ID to enter the premises, and once we’re inside, there’s a reception where I must sign in. Of course, the man at the reception is a palace guard, vetted by me.

I’m surprisingly impressed when we reach the elevators, and she scans her thumb instead of pressing a button to call the elevator.

“The property-owner is experimenting with having no buttons on elevators. He wants to install a Siri of some sort, but so far, it hasn’t worked out yet,” Ivy explains. I make her uncomfortable when I don’t continue the conversation. Instead, I keep thinking of ways to get her out of her clothes.

We arrive on her floor, and there are two other apartments here. She reads the question on my face. “Danai and her husband live over there.” She gestures at the first door with flower arrangements. “That’s Smolyakov’s place.” It’s the middle door. The leather shoes near the doormat weird me out. It’s like he’s daring us to steal his shoes. “And I live here.” The third door is hers, with no decorations. “The Bengtssons live above us. Måns and Malena can afford a bigger apartment because of Måns’ palace pay.”

“Is that a salary complaint?” I ask, slightly amused but also concerned. Doctors and teachers have a special place in my fucked-up heart.

Ivy pouts at me. Defiantly, she opens her door, letting me into her kingdom. I watch as she takes off her Mary Janes, sorting them into the shoe rack next to the door. I follow her example, and her eyes take in every movement I make. I feel inspected like we’re in her office, and she’s taking angry notes on her notepad.

“You know, if you want a raise, you could ask for it. The Queen of Katantia owes you,” I tell Ivy.

“I don’t want a handout,” she responds, gripping my jacket tightly. It suits her. “And we didn’t come here to discuss money.”

“Tell me, what did we come here for?” I ask, and her face takes on a blush that I want to remember.

“Can I be your object?” she asks, and her eyes are full of expectations. I can smell her lust, her curiosity. I know that she doesn’t fuck on Katantia. My people have thoroughly researched her out-of-work activities. She’s enamored by me for some peculiar reason, or else she wouldn’t be taking these rapid steps forward.

She must think that her pussy can heal whatever’s wrong inside of me.

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