“Happy Birthday, Christopher Henry Harpsworth,” said a deep, seductive voice. “Your VIP treatment is about to begin.”
Hearing those sensual words, the young man who’d been tasked with carrying on an old legacy prepared himself for a hefty dose of forbidden indulgence. It had taken a lot of planning, effort, and cunning to set everything up, complete with a web of elaborate lies that ensured some badly-needed freedom from his family responsibilities. Upon seeing the fruits of his labor, though, Christopher could safely say the toil was worth it.
“I want…no, I need this. I need it so fucking bad,” he said in an almost-desperate tone.
“Don’t worry,” said the source of the seductive voice. “For what you paid us, you’re sure as hell going to get it!”
Her words, as well as the context in which she said them, felt like they had been ripped straight out of a fantasy…one that just happened to be as expensive as it was elaborate. For what Christopher needed, it couldn’t have been anything less.