Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy #1)

“My cock won’t fit in that tight little ass with the stick you’ve got shoved up it, so we better get to stretching it out.” He nods toward the bathroom. “The lube is in the bottom right drawer. My advice? Be generous with it. And you’re not leaving without that plug in your ass, so you better hurry if you want to make your meeting.”

Rage. My seemingly constant companion blooms again as I back away from the man that I definitely could pull a trigger on, especially at this moment. No one would miss him. New Orleans would rejoice at his demise. Or so I assume.

I keep my steps measured and my glare intact until my heels click on the marble floor of the bathroom and I slam the door behind me.

Resting my forehead against it for only a few seconds, I stare down at the black box in my hands, and like I’ve suddenly developed X-ray vision, I can see exactly what lies inside.

When I shove off the panel and face the mirror, my face is the picture of outrage and horror. Which pretty accurately conveys how I feel right now.

I can’t do this. The girl in the mirror is one hundred percent certain of that fact. The voice that harnesses my rage argues in opposition. Of course you can. It’s a butt plug, not a syringe of heroin. Stop being a p*ssy and find the lube so you can go meet your bankers and act like the CEO you are.

Crouching down, I yank open the bottom right drawer and find the lube exactly where he said it would be. f*cking bastard. The slur is getting repetitive, even to my ears. I need to come up with something new to fully express this level of fury.

I snap open the lid of the box and pull out the plug, holding it in one hand and the lube in the other.

All I have to do is spread it on and shove it in. I can do this.

My back door clenches tightly, delivering a solid no way in hell response.

But if I miss this meeting and Seven Sinners’ loan ends up in workout, my dad will find out, and . . . I don’t even want to picture the fallout.

I flip the cap on the lube and dump some on the black-and-gold plug. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to use it, and I’m pretty sure Magnolia had given me an anal trainer kit years ago as a gag gift that wasn’t really a gag.

With the base of the lube-coated plug gripped in one hand and the other tugging down the waistband of my thong, I stare into the mirror and give myself another pep talk.

Just shove it in. I squeeze my eyes shut and awkwardly maneuver it beneath the skirt of my dress, wishing I’d thought to remove it. I press the end against the hole I swore would remain virginal and try to force myself to push, but I can’t.

I just can’t.

With a cry of disgust, I throw the plug in the sink, tug my thong back into place, and grip the edge of the counter with both hands.

I’m a coward. And I totally should’ve used that anal trainer kit.

There’s a knock on the door. “This is your twenty-minute warning. With traffic, you might still make it on time if you hurry.”

Glaring, I spin around, wishing once again my stare could incinerate. I dash forward and yank the door open so quickly that I take Mount by surprise. He hangs on to the top edge of the door frame, staring down at me with that arrogant eyebrow raised. He studies me for a moment.

“Turn around and bend over.”

“No.”

His expression goes dark but flares with interest at the same time. “You and that word. Are you really disobeying my order?”

I swallow, because there’s no way I want to admit to him that I can’t do it. I hate this weakness in myself almost as much as I hate him. But the clock is ticking, and I don’t have time for my pride to get in the way of losing my family’s legacy. I’ve already sacrificed too much.

“I’m not doing it.”

His eyes narrow on my face, and he’s reading me too easily for comfort—again.

“Oh yes, you are, but that’s not what you’re saying. You won’t let yourself miss this meeting. So it’s either you can’t or won’t. Which one, Keira? Are you being stubborn or shy?” His eyes flare with heat as though both options excite him.

“Does it matter?”

“More than you know.”

When I hesitate to respond, he looks down at his watch, and I’m reminded of the need to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. That’s the only thing needed to prompt my honesty.

“I can’t.”

The darkness fades from his expression, and his black gaze flashes with heat. “Ask me.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate because I know exactly what he wants. Any other morning, I’d tell him to go f*ck himself again, but I don’t have that luxury today.

“I need help.” I utter the words with the same enthusiasm as I would if I were confessing to murder. Well, anyone’s murder but his.

“Help with what, Keira?”

Oh, this motherf*cker.

“I hate you.”

“It’s hard to forget when you constantly tell me. And to be honest, I’m getting sick of hearing it. Now, f*cking ask me for exactly what you need.”

I jerk my head toward the sink. “Help me put that thing in.”

“Help you slide that butt plug in your tight little ass so I can stretch it out and then f*ck it because it’ll make you come harder than you ever knew was possible?”

I grit my teeth, and for the first time in my life, I’m the slightest bit curious if what he’s saying is true. Magnolia swore I was missing out, hence the anal trainer kit.

He’s f*cking with my head again. That’s all.

I shove my curiosity down before I bite out my reply. “Yes.”

His smug smile of satisfaction appears as if on cue and he walks to the sink. “I can’t say you didn’t at least try.”

He leans down to open the bottom drawer where I’d found the lube and produces some kind of spray and a neatly folded towel, and drops them both beside the sink.

“Clean it. Bring the plug and the lube into the sitting room.”

I can’t meet my own eyes in the mirror as I wash the plug, and then use the disinfectant spray and wipe it clean. I’m not sure if that’s because I can’t face my shame or because I’m afraid I’ll see a glimmer of excitement.

There’s no doubt that Mount’s orders affect me like some kind of black magic. My hard nipples, visible against the fabric of the dress, and the wetness coating my thong are proof of that.

Still, I carry the plug and the lube through the bedroom and into the living room like I’m stepping up to the scaffold to face the noose. Mount is seated in the same chair he was before, but this time, he’s moved it farther away from the table.

I cross the plush carpet, my palms beginning to sweat as I stop two feet in front of him and hold out the items. He takes them from me and I start to turn around, already predicting that he’ll command me to bend over.

“Stop.”

His order stills my movement, and slowly, I look over my shoulder at him. “What?”

“Let me see your hand.”

I’m shocked that he gives my injury a second thought. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

I flash it at him, intending to tuck it back beside me so we can get this over with, but he grabs my wrist. He surveys the injury for a moment before looking up at me.

“You’ll be fine. Should barely feel it by tomorrow.”

“I know. I—” Before I can finish telling him I didn’t need his assessment, he cuts me off with another order that throws me completely off-balance.

“Over my lap.”