Chapter 19 Good News
Claire
Right now my thoughts were a mess, clashing against each other in ways that made my chest tight. Having him here beside me would only tangle everything further, so maybe it was better that he went back to his room. Besides… we had done it several times already today.
So I repeated the words quietly but firmly, “Leave, Liam. I want to sleep.”
He exhaled sharply, like I had asked him for something impossible. Then he finally pushed himself off the bed, my eyes following every movement. He adjusted himself, tucking his dick back into his pants while looking directly at me. His voice dropped low, teasing but edged, “You should really sleep, Mrs. Claire. We can have sex later.”
He started toward the door.
“Why don’t you leave the same way you came in?” I asked.
He stopped, turned, and gave me a knowing smile. “Oh, you cunning woman,” he murmured before unlocking every single thing I had locked and letting himself out. He closed the door sharply behind him.
I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Whether he showed me that hidden entryway or not didn’t matter. Something told me I would eventually find out—and that this wasn’t the last time he’d drag me into this room. When he had called it my room, he had meant it.
My butt stung. I rolled onto my side and reached back, trying to soothe the ache. He had promised I’d like it, but I didn’t think I would—not that part. I liked the pleasure he gave, yes, but the pain? No. Pain couldn’t bring me pleasure, and I wished he understood that.
The memory of the cane striking my skin still made me wince. Was this really something he enjoyed? Thinking back, he had always seemed most intense when I cried, when I begged. Was that his kink?
I didn’t even know anymore. I only agreed to the pleasure he promised me through the blackmail not… getting whipped like some disobedient child. My entire life, no one had ever laid a hand on me like that. But I guess there truly is a first time for everything.
At some point sleep slipped over me again, and when morning came the sunlight poured straight across my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, annoyed—until someone blocked the ray.
When I opened them, he was there again, sitting on the edge of the bed like he belonged. He smelled freshly showered, clean, sharp. And he was already dressed in a suit, as if he were heading to work.
“Do you know what time it is?” he asked, brushing a hand through my hair and tucking it behind my ear.
I frowned and rolled onto my back. The moment my sore butt touched the mattress, a small sound escaped me. “Then what time is it?” I muttered, turning my face toward him—only to catch him staring at my bare chest.
“Just two minutes,” he said casually.
“For what?” I demanded.
He dragged his eyes up to mine and answered plainly, “Let me suck your breasts for two minutes, Mrs. Claire. Then I’ll tell you the good news I have for you.”
I sat up immediately and met his gaze. “No.”
He wasn’t smiling this time. His expression was serious, almost stern. “Oh please, come on,” he urged.
I shook my head. “I haven’t showered yet. I probably smell.”
As I tried to get out of the bed, he caught my wrist. “That’s for me to decide,” he said, eyes drifting down to my chest again. This man was impossible.
And yet, somehow, here I was—clean, refreshed, and dressed in the coat he had given me. I let my hair fall forward to hide my neck, the mark still purple against my skin. I tugged my sleeves down to hide the bruising on my wrist. At least now I looked decent enough to go home.
After one last look at myself, I stepped out of the room. The man he always called to escort me was waiting outside, Jerry if I remember correctly.
“This way, ma’am,” he said, leading me down the hall, past the spacious living room, and toward the main entrance. When he opened the front door and I stepped into the fresh air, I exhaled deeply.
But then I looked to the left—and saw him. Liam, surrounded by a few of his men, giving instructions. I looked over at where I had parked my car but I couldn't see it so I frowned.
“Where’s my car?” I asked.
Jerry smiled politely. “We moved it, ma’am.”
I frowned again and rummaged through my bag for my keys, they couldn't have moved it without the key.
“Here,” he said, offering them to me.
“And how did you get these?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“The boss gave them to me. You parked in a way that blocked the driveway.”
And suddenly I felt foolish.
“Come down, Mrs. Claire,” Liam called from where he stood. His men had stepped away, leaving him alone now.
He looked exactly like he did the first time I met him—composed, unreadable, not a trace of the man who had begged to suck my nipples.
I walked down the stairs. “I have to go,” I started, but he cut me off.
“I’ll be driving.”
I arched a brow. “You told me to take you home,” he reminded me.
“That was last night. I don’t want you driving me today.”
But of course, stubborn as ever, he simply plucked the keys from my hand and headed straight for my car. I sighed and followed. His men stood like soldiers—disciplined, dangerous, trained.
What kind of business did he even run?
He opened the passenger door for me. I slid in. As he circled around the front of the car, I watched him through the windshield—his stride, his posture, the sharp lines of his suit. He looked nothing like the same man from this morning. Nothing like the one who begged to suck my breasts, and whom I eventually let, feeding him like a child.
Even after he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I eased back into the chair, careful—my butt was still sore from last night.
“Here,” he said suddenly, handing me a small container of cream I hadn’t even noticed he was holding. I blinked at it, then took it from him slowly.
He didn’t speak again for a moment, just stared ahead as we drove through the massive gates of his estate. Then, almost too casually, he said, “I think I pushed it too far yesterday. Sorry for whipping you like that.”
He didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed fixed on the road.
I let out a breath. “It’s good you know that.”
He chuckled—deep, low, unbothered.
I turned my head toward him. “So… what’s the good news you promised? I did my part.”
A faint, smile tugged at his lips—like the memory of what I did for him had just replayed in his head. Like he was remembering how he had sucked on my nipples, dragged them into his mouth, teased, bit, played—
God, why was I remembering it now? Heat pooled between my thighs immediately.
“Alright,” he said, voice light. “From now on, your husband and Pattie won’t be a thing anymore.”
My eyes flew wide. “What?”
He nodded as though discussing something unimportant. “I can’t waste my time on your husband anymore, Mrs. Claire. He’s not the one with the money—you made that clear.”
My stomach tightened. He spoke about it like he was commenting on the weather.
“And besides,” he continued, no hesitation in his tone, “I don’t want your money anymore. I want you.”
“Or you want the thing between my legs?” I shot back, half annoyed, half flustered.
He laughed softly. “Okay, fine—the thing between your legs, Mrs. Claire. That’s what I want most. To fuck you and release inside you.”
Heat shot up my neck. I snapped my head away from him, already burning from his words. “You always talk so dirty,” I muttered under my breath.
He only laughed again, richer this time, like he enjoyed how easily he could embarrass me.
The drive took over an hour. All the while, a black car trailed behind us—probably the one meant to take him back home. I didn’t ask. He didn’t explain.
When he finally pulled up in front of my gate, I let out a deep breath. What would my neighbors think if they saw him stepping out of my car? Then again… maybe they wouldn’t care. Maybe I cared too much.
Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. His mouth crashed onto mine, stealing the air from my lungs. His tongue slid into my mouth immediately, hungry, claiming, drawing me into him before I even processed what was happening.
Then, just as abruptly, he pulled back.
I inhaled sharply, stunned.
“This will be it, Mrs. Claire,” he said, voice low. “When I need you again, I’ll call. And trust me—it will be soon.”
With that, he stepped out of the car, closing the door firmly behind him. I sagged back against the seat, my breathing unsteady, my pulse racing in ways I didn’t know how to calm.
I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaled one last long breath, then slid over into the driver’s seat and prepared to drive myself through the gate.