Defiant Queen

Defiant Queen

Page 18

Yakamora, a name that’s unfamiliar to me, begins discussing market fluctuations and hedges against risk. I can’t tell if Mount is paying any attention to him because his gaze never leaves mine as I walk toward him on my towering heels, the leather box in hand.

“I understand your aversion to risks, but none of us would be where we are if we hadn’t taken them,” Mount says. “Casso, you want to share your opinion?”

A deep voice with an Italian accent fills the room next, but I’m not paying attention to his words because I’ve stopped a foot away from Mount. His dark gaze starts at the toes of my fuck-me heels and drags up the sheer black stockings, pausing on my pierced hood for a moment before rising to the garter belt and then the bustier.

“Just because those methods have worked for the old guard doesn’t mean they’re going to continue to work. If we want to maintain any control over what’s happening, we have to be united in our approach,” Mount says as his gaze finally reaches my face.

When the man with the Japanese accent begins to argue, Mount holds out a hand to me, palm up.

What does he want? I only wonder for a moment before I realize he’s waiting for the box clenched in my grip. I offer it to him, partly terrified and partly thrilled at the thought of him using either or both of the items it contains on me.

What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t want this.

But I do.

Now that I know he’s on a conference call, the gag makes sense, but it doesn’t make it any less intimidating. Mount sets the box on his desk as the call continues, a roundtable of opinions, and from little bits and pieces I’m comprehending, it has to do with nothing I want to know about.

Mount lifts the gag out first, his dark gaze almost seeming to spark. He reaches his right hand out to hit the mute button on the speaker. “You ever wear one of these before?”

I shake my head, unintentionally following his order not to speak, but I literally have nothing to say.

His smile takes on that predatory quality I’m beginning to recognize means he’s pleased and aroused. “Good.”

He unmutes the phone first before standing and pressing the gag against my lips, as if daring me to speak.

In our skirmishes, I’m rarely obedient, but I’m not sure I want to find out what the punishment would be for interrupting this conference call with my protests. Besides, the rationalization fits right into my dark fascination with the device.

With the ball in my mouth, he fastens the strap behind my head. Now that my ability to speak freely is gone, my other senses are heightened and my nipples harden under the thin cups of the bustier. Mount reaches out and flicks one with a thumb. A muffled whimper escapes my lips as I squeeze my legs together, my new jewelry already causing wetness to gather between my thighs.

Mount mouths something at me, and it takes me a second to realize what he’s saying.

Bad girl.

He grasps me by the hips before turning me around and pressing one hand to the small of my back until I’m bent over his desk directly in the middle. Mount retakes his seat and replies to a question on the call, but I’m too lost in the thought of how obscene I must look from behind, my pussy and ass exposed and right in his face.

My thighs clench together again. I want to stop myself from getting wetter, but it doesn’t matter what this man does to me. My body falls prey to him every time.

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