Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(36)

“Unless you want to play my stepmom now?” I ask, laughing again.

“What are you doing, Beau?” Her tone is so serious it kills my buzz.

“Why do you care, Charlie? Or should I say…Charlotte?” I ask, mocking my dad’s stoic tone when he calls her that. “What’s wrong? I wasn’t bossy enough for you? I didn’t make you kneel and treat you like a dog and call you a good girl enough?” My tone is full of humor, but my words aren’t funny. I know that. I’m immature and high, not stupid.

Her arms are crossed, and I sense something in her facial expression change, a hint of hurt coloring her features.

“I don’t understand you,” she replies sadly. “What do you get from hurting me? And not just tonight…but our entire relationship? You always tried to bring me down. It’s not about how your dad treats me. It’s how he values me. You can dress that up in any kink you want, but that’s all I ever wanted. I wish you could find that, Beau.”

As she turns to get back into her car, I feel the need to have the last word. And it doesn’t even make sense, at least not to her. So I don’t know why I feel the need to shout it. But I do.

“I’m nothing like you, Charlie,” I say, but she doesn’t respond. She looks like a wounded puppy in a rush to return to her owner, who will no doubt pat her head and make her feel all the warm gooey things I can’t.

But before she leaves, she stops and stares at me over the top of her car.

“It would be amazing if you could just surprise me, Beau. You wouldn’t believe how much he wants you there, even if he knows you’ll make him regret it. He loves you so much, and I’ll never hold a bigger place in his heart. That belongs to you, and you don’t even want it.”

With that, she slips into the driver’s seat and backs out of the driveway. I sit out here for a long time after she’s gone, replaying every stupid word I uttered as I slowly start to sober up. And the only thing I realize, as I start to head up toward the house, is that I am nothing like Charlie. She is perfect and obedient and she loves to be told so.

As for me, I am what I am. An insensitive asshole. An arrogant prick. A disobedient brat.

So, as I shut myself into my bedroom, I do the first thing that comes to mind. I shed my clothes and climb into bed, eagerly stroking my dick to life. But I’m not just going to break the rules tonight. I’m going to earn every stupid punishment in the book—just to prove how not like Charlie I am. I hope Maggie turns my ass black and blue for this. I hope she makes me balance her tea cup on my head until my kneecaps bleed. I hope she edges me until I pass out. I don’t care. Because any punishment is better than being some rich prick’s perfect little doll.

Feeling angry and obstinate, I open up my phone camera in the dim light of my room and I aim it directly at my swollen cock. Then I stroke it with purpose. I don’t need porn tonight. I just need to think about all the ways Maggie is going to make me pay for this tomorrow.

And I capture the entire thing on camera as I shoot my load all over my hand and belly, groaning and cursing the entire way through.

Then, without a single caption or word, I put it in a text and send it over.





Rule #16: If they want to come…make them come.





Maggie





“So it’s between Phoenix and Sacramento,” Garrett says, chewing on the end of his pen.

“I think I can talk the owner at Fire Palace down, if I give them what they’re asking for,” Emerson replies from the head of the table.

“That club cannot stay the way it is right now if we want to put Salacious’s name on it,” Hunter adds, and even I hear the tension in his voice.

“We can’t afford to build from the ground up in a new city,” I say, and they all nod in agreement. “And if we can’t make Phoenix work, then we have to take the foreclosed property in Sacramento.”

Emerson looks unhappy with this decision as his brow furrows, and I don’t blame him. The closed-down club is too seedy and not in the right area for our new location, but we can’t keep waiting to make this move. It’s now or never.

“Let me make a call to Phoenix and see if I can strike a better deal,” Emerson replies, and I nod in agreement, because if anyone can do it, it’s him.

“If that doesn’t work, take Garrett and I’m sure the two of you can sweet talk ‘em,” I add with a smile, and Garrett loves that idea, pointing at me with his chewed-up pen and a mischievous grin.

“They have a stage,” Hunter throws in with a wiggle of his brows, which makes me laugh and Garrett flinch.

The guys fall into a non-work conversation, just as I feel my phone buzz in my lap. I look down to see a text from Beau—titled in my phone as just s.

It’s almost ten at night, and I haven’t seen him since his little tantrum this afternoon, and I can’t help but grin as I swipe open the message. My eyes widen in surprise when I’m suddenly looking at his engorged cock in the dark and his hand stroking it angrily.

“Here you go, ma’am. This one’s for you,” he says in the video.

He moans loudly over the sound of his slick hand moving over his cock, and I fumble to close the message, suddenly registering how loud that was. I’m clutching my now silent phone in my lap as I gape up at the people in the room. Hunter, Garrett, and Emerson are all staring at me with interest, and my cheeks feel downright nuclear from embarrassment.