Page 10 of The Ownership Clause

Albion: Having fun tonight?

It took him only a few short minutes to reply.

Massimo: It’s a Monday night. I’m at home.

I snickered and messaged him back.

Albion: Who is she tonight?

I didn’t have to wait long before a picture came through. I wasn’t interested in women, but I also wasn’t completely against seeing them in vulnerable positions. The woman in question was a redhead with short hair that curled around her ears and jaw. She was curvy, her belly slightly rounded, with large breasts held up by a bloodred push-up bra. The camera pointed down at her, which meant Massimo was standing above, and from this angle, it was clear she only had on lingerie. She was on her knees, head tilted up, hands tied behind her back, and a ball gag in her mouth while tears clung to her long eyelashes. And the sight... made me all the more eager for Wade to get here. Regardless of not being into women, my cock throbbed at the image and the thought of getting my little bitch into that position, too.

Albion: Hot.

I didn’t receive a response back from Massimo, but I didn’t expect one. Massimo was a playboy with a new woman—submissive—every night. I almost felt sorry for Avery and his adorable crush on my buddy.

I sighed and leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes as I rubbed my palm over the bulge in my shorts. I didn’t do much else, though, because either Wade arrived by 8:00 p.m. or I would go to bed and jerk off.

As time slipped by, I scrolled through my phone. I checked my social media accounts, snorting as I saw some of my ex-high school friends gloating about their new accomplishments in life. It was usually the same bullshit. Babies, engagements, marriages, job promotions. The thing about these kinds of posts was that while they might not be lies, they were curated. Behind the happy smiles of engagement photos were couples arguing. Behind the cute baby photo was a crying miniature demon who kept them awake at all hours of the night. And behind that pretty beach wedding was a mountain of debt.

I snorted. Look at me, being grim, yet also realistic.

Bored and still hard as a baseball bat, I checked my phone.

8:01 p.m.

Sighing, I rose and stretched out my back. That was that. Just as I was about to head for the bedroom, the video doorbell buzzed. I smirked and walked toward the system beside my front door, then clicked the button. My doorman’s face appeared.

“Yes?” I asked in a dry tone.

“Forgive me for interrupting you so late at night, Mr. Guthrie, but I have a Mr. Sawyer here to see you. He said you were expecting him.” Mr. Callaway was a middle-aged man who’d been working in this building since it opened five years ago. With big blue eyes, long brown eyelashes, and a sharp jaw, he was cute and on this side of being hot. Asking Callaway to be my sub would’ve been a much better decision than Wade, but my curiosity had won out, especially since the Saturday night conversation with Massimo.

Spending my Sunday creating a contract of my own outside of work had been worthwhile, if you asked me.

“Send him up, Callaway,” I drawled before clicking the End Call button.

Licking my lips, I opened the door and leaned my shoulder against the frame, waiting. It only took a few moments before the elevator door opened and Wade stepped out, freezing at the sight of me. I stared at him, taking in the cheap navy suit. The attire was different from what he’d had on today, but it still made him lookprofessional, which wasn’t what I’d been aiming for.

“Hey, Shoelicker.” I grinned smugly.

Wade rocked his weight between his feet, hands clutched in front of himself and head bowed forward. He didn’t have any other possessions with him, though I assumed he had a wallet and keys in his pants pockets. Or maybe he’d taken an Uber. The truth was that I didn’t know a lot about Wade because I’d never cared to know. I didn’t know where he lived, who his family was, or what his life was like outside of the job, and Istilldidn’t care.

“Sir.”

“Get inside.” I shoved up and moved out of the doorway, giving him room to enter my apartment. He reached the threshold before he paused, hesitation passing over his face. “The moment you walk in here and sign the contract, you’re mine, Sawyer. Thinkverycarefully about what you’re going to do.”

Wade took a deep breath, and as though sealing his fate, he stepped through the door.

I smirked and crooked my finger, gesturing for him to follow, and he closed the door before trailing me across the open-plan living room to the glass dining table. The contract was spread out across the glass.

“This is the contract for our after-work play. It’s simple and direct, and it protects me from any accusations of harassment.” I tapped the paper.

“I wouldn’t accuse you of that,” he murmured, voice barely audible in the otherwise silent room.

“Speak up, Shoelicker,” I snapped.

He winced, then repeated what he’d said louder.

“Forgive me if I don’t trust you.” I crossed my arms and took a moment to assess him. He didn’t appear entirely comfortable to be here, but that wasn’t surprising. Despite his clear desire for firm words and the pleasure he received from punishment, he had the shiny-eyed innocence of someone new to the game. “The contract states what I expect of you. If you want to end a scene, you will choose a safe word to say and write it down here.” I pointed at a specific spot in the contract, waiting for his choice. “If you want to end this arrangement, a safe phrase must be used. You can write it here.” I moved my finger to the next dotted line that waited for him to write down a choice. “Read the contract carefully. No ifs or buts, am I clear? Our fun starts as soon as you sign this.”

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