My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 39 Ice Cold

GRANT POV

I should hate her, avoid her, ignore her, and maybe even intentionally hurt her, but something about her keeps pulling me in. Keeps me on my toes. Keeps me yearning for more.

Since the incident with Luca, I’m not so sure of Nova’s involvement with the Ratel Mafia. I know Luca well enough, if Nova works for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to flaunt that fact and gloat until I don’t want to see the next day. But the bastard has been interested in her.

The plan was to watch out for any leaked information, and I wasn’t expecting Luca there. But Luca seeing Nova is like me purposely trying to get his attention, and now I regret the very decision that pushed me into taking a delectable, yummy delight like Nova to a place where hungry sharks like Luca roam and hunt for their next meal.

Work has been going well, albeit with some mysteries that are yet to be uncovered, but so far the majority of the harm from the Nova system has almost faded.

After I fucked Nova all over my kitchen, somehow I wasn’t satiated. I wanted more.

Everything in me wanted to draw her up against me and warm up with her until whenever. I can’t even remember treating any lady this way.

Hell—not even the mother of my child. If there’s anything I hate the most in this world, it would be clingy females. And somehow something in Nova’s pussy is turning me into the kind of man I didn’t realize I am.

Internship rounds up in a few weeks, and if I don’t fuck this obsession out of my system, I might turn into one of those men who chase after females younger than them with money and all.

I refuse to be controlled by a pussy not even if it’s a pussy I popped. So now my plans are quite simple:Keep a watchful eye on Nova.

Avoid fucking her again till further notice.

Look for a fresh and tighter cunt to fuck.

Distract myself with every one of my favorite sexual activities and command those subs till I remember who the fuck I am.

I’m a god.

The god to all these fucking wenches.

I don’t do warm fucks, no cuddles, and I will never repeat my most recent mistake of fucking a cumhole who didn’t respect my authority as a dom, someone who talks back, and I actually gave her the privilege of fucking her?

Even now, somehow calling her cumhole is grating on my nerves. Like she is more. Like she deserves more. But this should be all.

••••CONJOINED••••

I entered Conjoined with my special exclusive card and made my way to the special area reserved for people like me. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Contrary to the plain name, Conjoined is actually a top luxury sexual building that majors in kinks of all kinds while prioritizing your privacy. Anything that happens in Conjoined stays in Conjoined, no matter how powerful, reckless, or stupid you are.

People who are known not to have any secrets have never been issued a card, because a background check is fine before accepting any member.

Any female especially who does roleplaying and volunteers to be auctioned must have known what she signed up for before standing on the straight line, all naked and bound like slaves for their worthy masters.

The bid started over each of the ladies. There was only one virgin on the list and I would have bought her, but she had blonde hair that looked too similar to my daughter; also in build and stature.

I’m not that sick of a father. I would rather pick something very different, like a raven-haired girl with breasts smaller than those of Nova but who can still work with a nipple clamp, and her lower body is quite firm and thick, not bad.

The hair between the junction of her thighs was shaved clean, just like I liked it, and there was something in her eyes, something that made her look cheesy submissive but, unlike Nova, this kind of submission was a blank submission.

It’s her turn to be auctioned off, and prices are being called. I signaled one of the ushers over. She was dressed in a sheer material so thin I could see her nipple piercings. She gave me a smile that spoke volumes; she didn’t mind being auctioned off by strange men either. But I prefer the thrill that comes with competing with other people for a pussy I knew was going to be mine before the end of the auction.

The price was called, several placards were raised, the price increased, and some started dropping off until only two people remained. Fifty thousand dollars was announced, and one of them dropped off, leaving just a woman raising her placard. Before they could announce her as the winner, I raised mine.

$150,000.

I could hear several snickers and gasps. The scene unfolding was nothing new, nothing special, but everyone knew the lady who was about to be the winner did not like losing to someone and especially not a man.

She goes by the name Madame Ax. A notorious female dominant in the building, known to be bisexual and sees herself as equal to men. She is a feminist and one of the dominant figures from whom I learned the act of dominance.

"$250,000," she answered from the other end of the room, and I had to hide my smirk. If only she knew how perfectly she was playing into my hand.

"$500,000," I announced. The announcer was dumbfounded as we took over the negotiation from her.

"$600... $700... $800... $1,000,000..."

"$5,000,000 for the girl and him,"

Madame Ax said, her voice brooking no nonsense, and now people’s gasps were more pronounced.

"Deal,"

I said, standing up and dropping my placards. The host, obviously lost and confused, tried getting herself together.

"She goes to Madame Ax, accompanied by Mr—?"

She pointed toward me, trying to get my name, but we have aliases for situations like this.

"Blade," I answered.

"Accompanied by Mr. Blade. Moving on to the next..."

I blurred the rest of her words as the girl was blindfolded and escorted outside the room, followed by Madame Ax. I followed a few steps behind.

What I’m sure of is this: before the end of tonight’s BDSM session, Nova is going to be a thing of the past, and my desire for violence and anarchy will be fully charged from the whips of Madame Ax and the vibe that comes with Conjoined whores.

A few minutes later....

I could smell her arousal from the other side of the room as I watched detached, Madame Ax punishing her with words and whips, while instructing her not to orgasm. The scene unfolded like a boring, mute drama before me. No whip, no tool, nothing could make me hard like a mere sight or touch of My Nymph would have done.

I picked up one of the crops and clamps as I made my way over. The rest of the night was unremarkable, even after the dominance and all. I still didn’t feel satisfied.

There was this itch in me that only My Nymph could scratch. I didn’t know what was more toxic or scary; the fact that I knew this wouldn’t end well for either of us, or that I didn’t have a heart to offer her in return if she caught feelings, or that the people in my world wouldn’t hesitate to kill her once they realized I might have a semblance of feeling for her.

Making my way back to my mansion,which was once a semblance of peace and stability, I couldn’t help but notice the lingering dread and anticipation I felt now as I approached the building. A feeling unaddressed might lead to a bigger complicated problem.

Maybe if we talk it out and fuck it out, things might sort themselves.

Maybe if I tell her how I feel, she might scurry off, and my brain would finally get the idea that we don’t belong in the same class.

My plan seems nice and perfect, unlike my previous plan to go to Conjoined, which didn’t ease whatever the fuck I felt in my chest.

The part of my chest I’ve been swearing was dead—the cold, empty and foolish thing called heart—was now rearing it’s ugly head out.

To buy me some time before making rash decisions, I changed into a more relaxed outfit. Heaven forbid I go to My Nymph in the same outfit I used to fuck some whore. She deserved more than that and, I don’t know where all this thought is coming from.

I went to my study to indulge in a few shots of whisky, maybe to clear the fog in my head, and my favorite cigar. A few minutes later, I was convinced this was a bright decision, there is no time like the present.

I’m not a man of great words, but I can improvise, staying true to my emotions and maybe manipulating hers a little. Heaven forbids I lay down all my cards. A god must have five or seven more tricks up his sleeve.

I was almost at her door, and for the first time in weeks—or maybe months—I felt lighter, more accomplished. I knew it would get better once I talked to My Nymph and fucked her. Wait... it can actually be love-making now.

I hate the L-word, but I guess when you meet the right person, even the impossible is possible.

I placed my hand on the door handle just as Ivin called my name. I barely restrained myself from glaring hard at him. How dare he interrupt such a sacred moment for me?

"A minute, boss."

"You better make it worth it, or your life is worth nothing at the edge of my dagger," I warned. The bastard didn’t flinch as he stretched an envelope to me.

"What’s this?"

"I think it’s better if you see it for yourself."

I hate when this son of a bitch acts cold and mechanical like a damn robot, but I have other beautiful things on my mind in the name of Nymph.

Sweet, smart, sexy, tight pussy, beautiful hair that could be fisted tight in doggy position, the way her skin changes color when smacked by my riding crop, the way she blurts out those weird, unasked facts.

As if summoned, her face appeared in the pictures in the envelope. But something isn’t making sense.

"Nova. Yes?"

Why take a picture of her? My PI knows better than to intrude in the privacy of what’s mine. I wouldn’t hesitate to put a gun through his empty head.

I was about to fling the envelope at my bodyguard, who knows better than to interrupt with something meaningless, but there was something wrong with this picture.

I rubbed my eyes the first time , second, third.. it’s definitely not a glitch.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I faced Ivin. There must be an explanation for this ridiculous prank.

"What? I warned you about her, boss. She’s too—-"

"Too what? Too fucking what??? What the fuck is this??"

I flung the rest of the pictures at him and watched them scatter across the floor. more pictures of my very own Nymph in the hands of no one other than my mortal enemy, fucking Luca Vitellio, who has more whores than he can count and has always come after everything I’m interested in.

The fucker who is currently eating my companies from the inside out. Even without evidence, I know what he’s capable of.

The pictures captured different angles of Nova in his car, kissing him fully on the fucking lips before stepping out in front of my own fucking gate!

Someone is dying tonight. And it’s definitely not me.

I didn’t even think before I flung her door open. I didn’t pay attention to her room, but I couldn’t ignore the array of different bouquets in various vases. And apparently, my Nymph was on a video call, in a barely-there outfit.

"Hang up. Now," I gritted out.

"Why?" she dared to snark back, her neck never looking more fragile.

"Yes. Why, Granny?" the fucker asked me over the phone.

"Because someone is going to die tonight."