Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“That’s—” Takken started, then stopped. I could see the calculations running behind his eyes—the billions of kroner at stake, the power dynamics at play. His jaw worked silently before he turned to me with dead eyes. “Take off your clothes, Lorna.”
I felt my jaw slacken. Fire, terrible and ambiguous, flooded my body from my scalp to my feet, centered exactly where I didn’t want it to be centered. My hands moved to the zipper of my dress before I could stop them, some combination of Aksel’s training and pure shock making me obey. The expensive fabric dropped at my feet, followed by my slip. I unhooked my bra with trembling fingers, then pushed my panties down my legs, stepping out of them with as much dignity as I could muster.
“Well, well,” Horakovsky said, his eyes fixed between my legs. “Smooth as a baby’s bottom. When did you start shaving your cunt, Fru Norquist?”
I saw Takken’s face flush dark red, his eyes widening as he took in my bare pussy for the first time. The fury in his expression was barely contained—not at Horakovsky for demanding this, but at me for this revelation, for having secrets he didn’t know about.
“I… recently,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Interesting,” Horakovsky mused. “Tell me, Norquist, do you discipline your wife? Keep her in line?”
Takken straightened, trying to reclaim some authority. “I’m not a barbarian, Georgy. This is the twenty-first century.” He paused, then added quickly, “Not that I mean any offense. Obviously the contemporary world needs… barbarians. Men of action.”
Horakovsky’s laugh was like gravel grinding. “A barbarian? Is that what I am?” He glanced at Brenteuil. “What do you think, Gaston? The prime minister calls us barbarians.”
Brenteuil chuckled, setting down his pen with deliberate precision. “The French are supposed to be civilized, non? But really, I don’t mind being called a barbarian.” His dark eyes found Takken’s. “At least not when the word is spoken by someone with your… considerable influence.”
The way Brenteuil drew out the words made my stomach turn. They were toying with my husband, playing him like a cheap violin, and the worst part was that Takken seemed oblivious to their mockery. I stood there naked, watching these men circle my husband like predators, and felt an unexpected surge of superiority mixed with terror. For all his corruption and cruelty, Takken was hopelessly outmatched.
“Well then,” Takken said, his voice taking on that false heartiness he used when trying to move past uncomfortable moments. “Perhaps we should review the contracts? I’m eager to finalize—”
“All in good time,” Horakovsky interrupted, moving toward the door. “But first, I think we need to establish the proper atmosphere for such important negotiations.” He opened the door and spoke to someone in the hallway. “Girls. Come.”
CHAPTER 10
Lorna
Mila and Katya entered, and my breath caught in my throat. They wore nothing but matching black garter belts and stockings, their bodies on full display, their pussies’ tender clefts bare and terribly visible. Both kept their eyes downcast, their posture that perfect blend of submission and grace I’d noticed before. The bruise on Mila’s neck had faded to yellow-green, but new marks decorated her thighs.
“Much better,” Horakovsky said, gesturing for them to stand by the wall. “Business should be conducted with honesty, don’t you think? No pretenses, no hidden agendas.” His eyes found mine. “Speaking of which, Norquist, would you permit me to have a little fun with your lovely wife? Nothing too extreme, of course. Just a small demonstration of trust between partners.”
I saw Takken’s jaw clench, his hands forming fists at his sides. For a moment, I thought he might finally stand up to them. Then his shoulders relaxed in that deliberate way that meant he’d made a calculation.
“If it amuses you,” he said, his tone suggesting complete indifference. “Lorna knows her duty.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, but beneath the hurt and humiliation, that shameful heat between my legs intensified. My body’s response to being offered up like a party favor made me want to die of embarrassment. Two days of edging myself had left me so desperately sensitized that even this degradation sent pulses of need through me.
No. I tried to shut the voice up—the one that seemed to come straight from my unconscious. Something about the training from Aksel, though, seemed to make it stronger than it had ever been. No. Not ‘even this degradation.’
I like it. Oh, God… Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I saw the tree. Distant, still, but very present. I need it.
“Excellent,” Horakovsky said, looking at me with the eyes of a predator. “Norquist, hold your wife’s wrists behind her back. Keep her still for me.”
Takken moved behind me, his hands closing around my wrists with more force than necessary. I could feel his anger in his grip—not protective anger, but the fury of a man whose property was being handled by another. His breath was hot against my neck, and I could smell the whiskey he’d had in the car to steady his nerves.