Page 261 of The First Taste

I dismiss his concerns with a wave of my hand.

"I'm not asking for too much, especially not for what I would offer and return. When I gain control of the company, she will automatically become one of the wealthiest wives on the planet. That’s not really anything to sneeze at."

"I just think you might be a little bit off base. If you gave up any of these characteristics, I'm sure there would be plenty of women lining up to be your wife. But this is a pretty specific list."

I give him a thin-lipped smile.

"The right woman does exist. She’ll be perfect. With the right dollar amount, anyone can be bought and paid for. This is a transaction, not a real marriage. I’m not looking for flowers and romance. I’m looking for something much more tangible and within my grasp. The right girl knows exactly what she is worth, and she’s out there, waiting. I’m sure of it."

Rob makes a noise that sounds like a hum of disapproval. But he just scribbles a final note and sighs.

"All right. That gives me somewhere to start with the matchmaker. Anything else right now?"

Pushing out my bottom lip, I slowly shake my head.

"No. That’s all I require of my personal assistant today."

"Great!" Rob says it with a saccharine smile. He scoots out of the booth, getting to his feet.

"Don’t get carried away drinking tonight. You have a call with Tokyo at three a.m."

I frown and wave my hand. "It’s fine, I’m sure."

"Well, good night then. I’ll talk to you two minutes before the three a.m. call."

Rob waits a second to hear my response, but he catches me mid-gulp. Rather than wait around, he turns and marches out of the bar, looking like he was stalking along a runway.

I drain the contents of my glass, hissing to myself as the alcohol slides down my throat, burning as it goes. I cast my gaze around the bar with a sigh.

The question now becomes whether I want to pick up one girl or two for the evening. The idea is appealing in a certain light. At least it would satisfy my hunger for a second.

I think of two girls, fairly close and laying on their backs, their hands between their legs, as they do every single thing I say. I tell them just how I want them to touch themselves—to play with their pussies and rub their clits. I would be in charge—the master of their orgasms. Really, it’s all the hands-off dominance that I crave on a regular basis.

The only thing is, I don’t actually know if I want to put the effort into finding partners to play with tonight. But something is stopping me. Something is holding me back. What could it be?

The next moment, completely unbidden, a thought comes to my head. I picture Talia and the way she looked when she was wearing that silver dress. But instead of the blonde wig, I would insist that she let her natural copper-colored hair fall all around her shoulders like the wild, wavy mess it is.

Arching an eyebrow, I squint. Is that what this is all about? Is Talia holding me back?

I already know how my next conversation with Talia will end. I’ll offer her another five thousand dollars for a night in my bed. It appears to be so straightforward. I find her body attractive, but every time she opens her mouth, I want to scream at her to shut up. So, I will make our hookup clean, professional, and very transactional.

I will get to watch her make herself cum while I jerk off.

Now that I admit it to myself, the idea runs through my blood as quickly as nuclear fission. It makes me feel strange and tingly, almost effervescent.

That settles it. I should just demand that she let me use her for her body. She should respond to my offer of cash. All women do when it comes to money. That’s all they want, but that makes it easy.

Then, once I have Talia out of my system, I should reward myself. I should find a new girl that I can dominate. I can take her on my boat and sail away, whatever the weather. It won’t matter, because I will be too busy counting her orgasms.

I get up and leave a pile of freshly minted hundreds on the table. Pulling on my coat, I bundle up and head outside. It’s a nice enough night, brisk and cold but clear. I walk aimlessly, looking at the stars.

I find myself wondering what I will do if that matchmaker doesn’t come through. I realize that I need something different this time around. Someone who needs money so badly that they will never leave me. Someone that can’t do better than me.

Not that there are many men who can compete with me.

Still, I will find a woman who meets almost all my criteria, perhaps sacrificing one or two points, and who desperately needs money. I run my tongue against my teeth, a little smile playing on my lips. That’s the sweet spot. I should really search there.

Smiling to myself a little, I turn toward the Morgan estate, walking more swiftly toward the house on the hill.