Chapter 14 - Alexander

**ALEXANDER**

The animal in him awoke. This provocative little minx was going to finish him off! Angry and greedy, Alexander pressed his lips to hers, driving his tongue deeper and deeper into Emily’s mouth while holding her tightly by the throat so she could not escape. Painfully, his shaft pressed against his pants, and he knew it was bulging indecently, displaying his lust for all to see.
*Damn it*, he cursed inwardly. *I gave clear instructions to Oliver! Quiet, naive dummies, not provocative, cheeky sex goddesses!*
He would love to throw Emily over his shoulder, drive her straight to his club and take her there so hard that she whimpered, screamed in pain and cried out her own pleasure... He couldn’t think about that. Not even a little bit! It would only make him feel worse. He had to control himself. *Damn Oliver!* His anger at the mediator increased and he tore himself away from his companion’s seductive lips. His heart pounded in his chest. His head throbbed with desire and yet he had to control himself. She was an ordinary woman with ordinary desires. She would never be able to understand his cruel passion. He only found women like that in BDSM studios, trained for men like him. Discreet intermediaries to satisfy his sadistic desires.
“Come, sweetheart,” he said in a harsh voice, annoyed by the rough undertone that could not hide his excitement. He was a dom! If he couldn’t control himself, how could he expect his playmates to? He had to stop seeing the sexy beauty in front of him as a willing sex partner. She was his hostess, playing his girlfriend for an indefinite period of time. That was what she was paid for - nothing more! “We’ll find you a pair or two of nice shoes. Then you can pick out a suit for me. And after that, nothing stands in the way of a delicious dinner.”
Alexander forced a smile on his face. In his mind, he quickly reorganized the rest of his evening. Even for him, his desire could no longer be tamed. But he did not want to lose face in front of Emily. At the agency he was considered a gay man and he didn’t want to damage that reputation. Otherwise, every lady he placed would soon try to seduce him. But what could never be revealed were his erotic desires. An internationally famous furniture designer could not be sadistic. He would permanently damage his image and lose valuable clients. Perhaps even some of his friends would turn away from him, because wealth brings people together - but sadism can destroy everything. A little dominance was considered legitimate and even appropriate among billionaires. Sadism was another matter entirely.
As he walked next to Emily to the shelves of red women’s shoes, he thought about his plans for the evening. Dinner would be on, of course; he had already made reservations for two at the Excelsior. He had planned a romantic rendezvous for the press. He had also prepared his suite at the Grand Hotel so that his companion could really get used to the luxurious life at his side. However, he would only be dropping Emily off and then taking the back exit to his club. He had to release the pressure as soon as possible!
The memory of Marietta sent a chill through his body. He had last booked her through Oliver and had been very pleased with the young woman. Her cool reserve had suited his concept perfectly. She had smiled quietly into the cameras at his side, obeyed his every wish and served him as one might expect of a good future wife - although of course he had had a submissive sub in mind.
But then everything had gone wrong. While he had fallen more and more in love with the young woman, she had remained the cool professional hostess. And in the exuberance of his feelings, he hadn’t noticed. He was shaken, and for a moment he forgot that he was standing with Emily in an exclusive shoe store, waiting for her opinion on a pair of shoes. It was only when she put her arm around him that he was almost jolted out of his memories.
“Look, Honeymoon!” Her pleasantly dark, slightly smoky voice pierced his consciousness, leaving yet another thrill in his gut. “What do you think of the pumps? They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?”
“Not as gorgeous as you,” he murmured, and damn it, he meant it. He gave her a gentle kiss on the head, telling himself he was only doing it because it was part of the image of a new romance. Another role he had to play for the journalists. He was a tough businessman, an enterprising creative, a loyal friend, a sensitive boss, and now a man in love. Only in his club could he be who he really was. Relentless, demanding, yet careful and forward-thinking. He wanted his sub to have everything. Perhaps it was time to find a permanent playmate. A fulfilling sex life could relieve stress.
“Run for me, my sweetheart,” he said, stroking her cheek gently. He tried to say it as kindly as possible, but he longed to give her orders, to command her and see her submissive. He wanted to change the silly gold necklace for a wide black slave collar and restrict her movements with chains. Erotic fantasies surfaced before his eyes that he was not allowed to have... not with her!
Groaning, he tried to distract himself from the swaying hips with which Emily walked in front of him. What was it about her that turned him on? Normally, he found blonde, naive beauties boring, which was exactly why he booked her through Oliver. Such women didn’t turn him on, and it helped him maintain the image he’d given Oliver: the sexy gay man who wanted to be mistaken for straight in public.
When Emily turned around and came back to him with a hand on her hip, his blood rushed to his nether regions once again. He wouldn’t be able to get rid of the bulge today. Groaning, he watched as she ran her other hand down her neck, then down to her cleavage, looking at him with half-open lips. He imagined her slipping under the hem of her dress, pushing the gold fabric down until he could see her full breasts and nipples. What color might they be? Rather pink with a hint of red, or more pronounced in a reddish-brown tone? Did she have perky nipples or flat ones? Did she tolerate clamps or even sticks? Shit! He had to stop thinking about her like that. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, so strong was the desire that he had to forcefully suppress!
“Just a few more hours,” he growled to himself, “just a few more hours!”