Chapter 81

Kathleen

Seriously, fuck this asshole. Literally. And figuratively.

She's looking into my sensual poker face, the same one I've used on a hundred subs over the years. I see it in her eyes. She's curious. Scared as cats around steel-toed boots but intrigued.

"Cunt?" she nearly spits on my carpet. "Thought you and your ilk were supposed to call yourselves feminists. How dare you call me that slur."

I cross my arms. "I didn't call you a cunt, honey." The smile I unleash on her is enough to make Ira shake in her shoes, let alone this piece of work. "I called what's between your legs a cunt. Nothing wrong with calling it what it is. Now, if I had called you a cunt, then that would be different." I look over my shoulder. "Right, Ira?"

"I'm not even getting involved in that discussion. Bring it up with my mother. You know, the woman who hired the PI following you around, Stephanie."

This is getting good.

I brush my fingers against Stephanie's bare arm. In truth, I wouldn't say I'm sexually attracted to this woman, though I am attracted to this situation. A bratty sub here to try to have her way with me and my dominant partner? Goodness. Someone get me a fan and a glass of ice.

I haven't had a bratty sub in forever.

This one would be completely different. Ira jokes about me being a brat when we're having a scene. Of course, she doesn't say that I'm a brat, per se. More like insolent. A more sophisticated word for a more sophisticated woman.

So, Stephanie is a brat.

"You two are unbelievable…" She keeps saying that, but I've noticed she hasn't moved. I mostly told her that to give her the shakes and get her out of my home. I don't want to see her face or ass again, not even on my TV – although it sounds like Carolyn took care of that. "I can't believe this is happening. Wait until the press hears about this…"

"The press doesn't give a fuck, sweetie. We're rich as hell. We're powerful. My social circles already know I'll get down on my knees and kiss Ira's ass at any notice. Who cares? What are you going to do?" I step forward, our bodies too close for either of our comfort. "What I want to know is… how do I get rid of you forever?"

Stephanie crosses every limb possible and wrinkles her nose at me. "Come again?"

"You know what I mean. How do I get you away from me for the rest of my life? How do I get you to leave me alone? Do you want money? Fine." I let my teeth scrape my lips on that word. "I'll give you a million dollars to get away from me forever. To get away from every person on this planet with the last name Allen or Mathison. I dropped fifteen million on The Ace to clean up one of your boyfriend's finance messes. I can afford another million. Consider it my generous donation to you trying to get your life back together."

Stephanie opens her mouth.

"Do you want business connections? I know a couple of Hollywood people. A couple of Broadway entrepreneurs. They might take pity on you if I put in a good word. Or maybe you want a comfy place to live. I'll get you a house in some nowhere-fuck-all town. Hey, I'll even pitch in a few extra dollars for you to get your kid back if he even knows who the hell you are."

I thought that would strike a nerve, but Stephanie is snorting as if it means nothing to her. "What would you know? You've got everything you ever wanted, rich princess you are. You even got her."

"I was an idiot," Ira admits. "She got me twelve years ago. I was too dumb to see it. So, sorry, Stephanie, if you think about it, I was cheating on Kathleen when I was with you."

Aw, that was almost sweet!

"Or maybe you want something else." I look her up and down, grinning, watching the way her knees buckle every time I use this tone of voice. "There's a reason you got so pissed at Ira. If this were about the name thing, you would be over it by now. Not this vindictive. No, you clearly feel like you're missing out on something else. What was it, Stephanie?" I'm uncomfortably close to her, my breath hitting her skin, warming her, making her shudder beneath my shadow. "Did you like the taste you got from her? Did you like the way she pushed you against that wall and showed you how enbies do it? Because I know how good that feels too."

Her lips curl into a sneer, but she doesn't say anything.

"You wanted her to dominate you. You wanted to go deeper into the lifestyle with her. I'm sorry you didn't have that chance, but you need to let it go. Unless…" I raise my eyebrows, inspecting her body, hilariously similar to mine. Never let it be said that Ira Mathison doesn't have a type, and not just blond. "What you want from us is more of that domination."

"What do you mean us?"

"Oh, you poor child." Her skin is hot with fever as I stroke her cheek with my knuckles. "You don't get her without me. We're a couple. We do everything together. Obnoxious, right?"

I don't look over my shoulder to see how Ira's reacting. I know damn well how. I remember how she acted at the Manoir. She about died watching me dominate a more than willing sub, let alone a bratty one.

To this very moment, I maintain I'm not into femmes like me. I don't mind the idea of a lipstick-type being sexy for me once in a while. In my kinky lifestyle, it's going to happen. Those opportunities, that is. But I am much too happy with my relationship with mascs – let alone my masc– to ever think too hard about it. Yet I don't feel disgusted when I haul Stephanie into a kiss.

All three of us die. Stephanie, because she wasn't expecting it. Me, because I didn't think she would be so soft and malleable. Ira, because ahahaha do I have to tell you why? She probably thinks it's her birthday up in here.

Well, now I know what to get the one who has everything for her birthday.

When I push her away from me, Stephanie stumbles backward, landing on my couch and sliding down to the floor. It's ridiculous how she moves as if she's a ragdoll punched in the gut. I don't move. Ira doesn't say a thing, although she's suppressing one of her dumb, arrogant grins.

Stephanie wipes her mouth with her hand. I find my purse and pull out my checkbook.

"How much do you want?"

She no longer has ferocity in her eyes. At first, I'm not sure what it is. Then I garner – it's probably lust. Stephanie May is an easy woman to figure out. I was right when I pinned her real beef with Ira was that she teased her with hot domination and then kicked her to the curb. For me, no less. I'm not going to apologize for that. She could have gone back to Midnight and found her a new dominant instead of being a vindictive jerk. She can be happy with some money, like any good red-blooded American.

"How about $200,000?" I write out a check to her. "That would be like if you kept blackmailing me for four more months. Should be enough to get you back on your feet, wherever you go. Pay off some Hollywood producer to put you in an indie movie that makes people like you again. Assuming, of course, you can act." I laugh as I hold the check over her head.

"Nah, Katie," Ira says behind me. "She'll want more than that. She's the type of woman who can't be fed on mere money alone."

"You're right." I snatch the check back before Stephanie grabs it. "She wants other kinds of fulfillment, not just money." To her horror, I rip the check in half, letting the pieces sprinkle on top of her. Her cheeks flush pink. Her nipples keep hardening. This is too easy.

The more I realize she's getting turned on by my attitude, the more I imagine her being batted around like a cat toy between Ira and me.

"What is it?" I kneel next to her. The Stephanie who stormed into my apartment would have lashed out. Maybe slapped me. Now she's merely looking away, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Is this turning you on, Stephanie?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because I think you're thinking about Ira fucking you, and me spanking you a little."

I give her a taste of that. Not the fucking or tit slapping, but a pinch to her arm that says, "You're my submissive, and you will obey me."

Stephanie bites her lip and lets out the unmistakable whine of sexual frustration.

She's probably got a lot of demons inside her. How can she not, when she's done what she has to achieve her dream? I don't even doubt she's done things that disgust her, both sexually and emotionally. I've heard the horror stories. Of course, I'm not going to bring those up. That would be tasteless and do nothing but fuel my sense of vengeance. I'm not like that.

I am, however, sympathetic, especially since I know what it's like to keep a million confessions bottled up inside.

I take my phone out of my purse and send off a curt text message. Ira's watching me but doesn't say anything. The response I get is exactly what I wanted.

We've got half an hour.