Fucker doesn’t deserve any of it.
If it takes me the rest of my life, Iwillsee him face retribution for his actions, and those of his father.
* * * *
My rage finally eases a little when Junior ends up leaving early in the evening after George gets up from the table and starts making the rounds again.
I move into position to shadow him once more, forcing my attention onto my job.
Then at one point he catches my eye and winks, and my cock suddenly wants to deprive my brain of all the oxygen in my body.
I guess if I can’t have revenge tonight, I can take solace in George’s attentions and the distraction I provide to him. Let his personal fury silence my own demons, for a while.
He’s arguably the most powerful man in our state right now. Working for him, and working as an attorney, has provided me with countless contacts in a variety of fields.
People of quality, and people who…aren’t.
I can’t hire out my revenge, though. That’s the fastest way to mire myself in life-destroying legal battles, or extortion schemes.
There are options. I can shoot, because Casey helped me learn how and helped me get my concealed carry permit. As an attorney, I was able to claim I needed one. I can’t take one to work with me, but I have access to firearms and own one.
I’m trying not to let my mind spin out fantasies of setting up a meeting and claiming self-defense when I “revealed” to Junior what his father had done over the years.
Or a quiet meeting somewhere, off the books, and just fucking strangling him with my bare hands. I’m thirty years younger than him. I can take him.
Meanwhile, I’ve heard rumors I’m still trying to substantiate, that Junior’s nut didn’t fall far from our father’s tree. That there are at least five or six little secrets of his own floating around out there.
Unlike his father, he’s smart enough to do his dirty deeds in states far from Tennessee. He bribes his targets outright, gets their signatures on affidavits stating that they’re using birth control and he’s not responsible for any resulting children.
It’s a little after ten when George and I depart. Casey remains behind, though, to chat some more, networking and catching any whiff of information that might drift her way. She’s like a living sponge, innocuous and filtering every bit of water that comes her way while grasping the things that are nourishing and worthy.
George makes me load into the SUV first, his hand cupping the back of my neck and derailing my thoughts. We’re no sooner belted in and underway when George grabs my right hand, pulls it across the seat, and presses it against the front of his slacks.
His cock feels like iron. Even in the dim light, his blue eyes burn into mine with the intensity of a star.
Inside its restraint, my cock roars to life again, and I gladly turn my mind to that and away from thoughts that could destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to build in my life.
Maybe I’m self-medicating with all of this, seeking fleeting solace in our play.
Except there’s no maybe about it.
As with Casey, I know if I turn myself over to George that he’ll shut off my brain and vaporize every other thought in my head.
I’ll gladly let him. I desperately need that forced oblivion tonight.
It beats the alternative of doing something fucking stupid and brings me some measure of solace.
The pain in my cock, where it’s trying to stretch and flex inside its restraint, anchors me to the here and now.
ToHim.
It’s difficult to believe it’s only been a few weeks since my world flipped on its axis.
George covers my hand with his right and leans back in the seat, spreading his thighs and slowly rocking his hips against my palm. Meanwhile, he reaches over with his left and pulls my jacket aside to flick my right nipple through my shirt and undershirt.
I clamp down on my lower lip to bite back the needy moan struggling for release almost as much as my dick is demanding freedom. As the sweet cloud of subspace fills my brain, I give in to it and lean my head against the seat.
“Boy,” he whispers.
