Double the Price (SeXlection #2) (14 page)

“Wives or husbands who go for the summer with the kids to the Hamptons that have the power player spouses might show and call their spouses to say get their asses there because they don’t want to miss out on one of
the
parties of the season. So we plan on not many for Friday, be prepared for all of them to show though, and pray lots more show Saturday and Sunday.”

“That’s a
nightmare
to coordinate,” he groaned.

“Welcome to dealing with the Hamptons,” I chuckled, shrugging.

So now it was the day before, “prep our asses off day” as Cecil kept referring to it, and we were sliding into the backseat of the town car as he was fiddling with his new Surface tablet, while talking on his Bluetooth.

“
Both
pools? Because if when we get there and one of them isn’t perfect—” he started to threaten but then nodded. “Good. And I’m sorry about the alcohol vendor’s car accident, but he’s fine. He should have a backup. He’s not my only option. He’s got until noon to make provisions or I start calling them. See? I made provisions. Get it done.” He hung up as we pulled away from the curb and I gaped at him. “What?”

“You’re getting all hard core on me,” I teased. “The man was in—”

“He hopped a damn curb,” Cecil drawled, rolling his eyes. “He was trying to say he got in an accident because he’s running late or pulling crap over on me. I’m no one’s fool. I invited the Hamptons Police Department to stop by throughout the party since we’ll have nothing illegal or drugs, showing goodwill with them, and let their guys have some treats. It’s free extra eyes given all the ocelots we’re going to have and will keep people from getting too wild.”

“And will show people I’ve got nothing to hide in my business and not afraid to be friendly with the police,” I added.

“Exactly.” He winked at me before focusing on his tablet. “One of the patrolmen happened to let me know that the vendor hopped a damn curb parking and needed to change out his spare this morning. That was his big
accident
. I thanked the nice patrolman and made sure he’s coming by the party once he’s off.”

“Which will make him happy since that’s not the type of deal they get to attend because of the caste system in the Hamptons.”

“Nope.”

“God, you’re good,” I growled, dragging him onto my lap as I closed the partition between us and the driver.

“Neil, I still have to yell at the caterers and servers and—” he moaned as I moved my hand under his linen pants and fondled his cock. Once we were out of the apartment,
slave
or not, in this country, walking around buck ass naked was not acceptable.

“Make your calls,” I dared him. He nodded and made it about halfway between checking through Friday’s menu before he lied and said he couldn’t hear them. Then the tablet and his ear piece fell to the floor, and I folded him in half as I buried my cock in him, shaking the car as we drove along the expressway.

When we were done, he was purring like a happy cat from my lap, completely spent as he called them back and finished. I did some work as well, making a few calls and checking up on things since I was taking two days off for the party, but I found my hands couldn’t stay off him all that long.

By the time we pulled up at my house, lots had been accomplished—and lots of fun had been had. Cecil was a pile of goo as he slid out of the backseat first, leaning heavily on the car.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“The house or what we just did?” I teased, fixing my pants before joining him.

“Both,” he giggled. I handed him his tablet and Bluetooth.

I chuckled as I slid behind him against the car and kissed his neck. “So it’s my big
house
that will get you in my bed tonight?”

“No, it’s that you have the biggest and best tasting cock I’ve ever experienced,” he announced loudly for all the caterers, people setting up, and cleaning people there to hear. “And you know how to use it over and over and
over
again.” He shivered as he pulled away. “Yeah, that’s what will have me in your bed tonight, screaming.” He shot a look at some of the shifters from the brothel who were already there getting the lay of the property since they were going to be the servers and entertainment. “And
only
me.”

“I love it when you get jealous,” I mumbled and followed after him. My regular driver already knew where everything went and then would head back to the city. I had a few vehicles I kept out here in the garage in case I needed to get around but I wasn’t so heartless I’d keep the man away from his family all weekend in case we wanted to run out.

Security for the brothel shifters was pretty tight since I’d hired a dozen of our own people who were overseeing the ten the brothel had provided. They were all staying at the servant/guest house on the property but the shifters were taking rooms in the house with us since the only people staying the night were Craig and Anatoliy. The rest of the shifters were tripling up or more in the other seven rooms. They were thrilled at the chance to have some breathing room and freedom.

They both showed right in time for the last minute sampling from the caterers, and we moved out to the pool. I took a seat and was ready to kick back until I saw Cecil frowning. “What’s wrong, my fine ocelot?”

“They won’t serve the slaves and waste samples on non-humans as tasters,” he answered, looking at his feet.

I jumped right back up on my own and found the owner of the catering company, cornering her in the kitchen.

“Tell me my ocelot is
wrong
. These slaves are going to be the ones serving your cuisine, flirting their asses off, and telling guests which is the best of everything. This weekend they are not slaves. Do you hear me? Some of these people are coming just for the opportunity to get a chance to spend some quality time with one of them. I gave
you
the chance on
Cecil’s
recommendation to feature your company here. Did I make a poor decision?”

Her eyes went wide as she glanced around at her people as if looking for backup. “But the law says th-that—”

“Says
what?
” Craig drawled as he joined us. “That they can’t sample food and be treated like people for an afternoon? Bullshit. They’re going to be the ones handing out your food and business cards if guests like what they taste. That’s why we didn’t want
your
people doing the serving. We wanted it kept separate. So if there was anyone here whose ass you should be kissing, it would be theirs.” He started to head back outside and then glanced over his shoulder. “And I’m an attorney. Don’t quote laws you don’t know.”

“Let’s move on to the sampling and get as many opinions as we can,” I instructed, letting her know that non-compliance wasn’t an option.

“Of course, Mr. Morgan.” She nodded, and I backed away, feeling I’d more than made my point. God, I was tired of this shit.

When I stepped outside and walked over to the pool, every shifter out there was staring at me funny.

“You have a fan club now,” Anatoliy chuckled as he sipped his drink. “They all heard you defend them and I think hope you will buy them all.” Then he took another sip. “This is very good. I hope it is one of the fountain drinks. I would have many.”

“It is,” Cecil assured him with a wink but then looked at the shifters. “But my master isn’t purchasing any other slaves. So get it out of your heads!” He took my hand and dragged me to the open seat next to Craig before pushing me in it and plopping on my lap. Setting his tablet down, he leaned over and licked my ear. “It was sexy what you did. I want you so bad right now, all of them to watch so they can see how I satisfy my Neil like no one else can.”

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” I growled, turning him so we were both facing the pool and his ass was pressed against my groin. “After lunch. In the pool. I’m going to make you scream, Cecil.”

“We do need to test the water temperature.”

Sounded like a plan to me. When the owner of the catering company came out to serve me personally, I smiled at her, argument forgotten and then remembered one other thing to tell her. “Slave in the eyes of the law or not, if Cecil tells you anything, it’s directly from my lips. Treat him as if my spouse was handling whatever detail is being discussed. He hired and put down the deposit with my authority, he can fire you with it.”

“Understood, Mr. Morgan,” she agreed, not even flinching. I got it then. She didn’t dislike the way we were doing things… She just didn’t want to get in trouble either. The laws and rules were tricky and convoluted, differing depending on who a person talked with. I glanced at Craig and realized he’d caught on as well.

“If anyone ever gives you a hard time about having shifters around or helping your business out, you call me,” he instructed her, pulling out one of his cards. “A lot of people say what they want to get what they want but that doesn’t make it the truth.”

Her eyes lit with understanding. “Yes, yes, they do. And when you’re a single mother who starts a catering company to put her kids through college, you can’t risk pissing off the wrong people by not adhering to unwritten rules or niceties about what is expected.”

“Tonya, that happens at any level,” I assured her, letting everything that had happened earlier go.

We had fun after that. The food was
amazing
and the company was great too. Tonya explained what each sample was, Rupert and Mario—who was on his best behavior where I was concerned—helping her with each new item. I’d been leery letting Mario come this time but he’d promised me that he now understood I was off the market for cat shifters and would behave accordingly. So far he had and it had been Cecil who had asked me to give him another chance.

And for my ocelot, I would.

That was about the last calm moment any of us had. The next morning the “fun” began and, oh boy, was I glad I didn’t believe in beating people because I might have. Several times. Lots of people.

For instance, Mrs. King who showed up with her
children
about noon for lunch and drinks, acting as if she’d had a few already. Granted by children I meant
teenagers
but that actually and probably made things worse for me later.

“What do you mean my children aren’t allowed?” she bitched as she crossed her arms under her very fake boobs as if that would work
something
on me. Senator’s wife or not, I couldn’t make myself suddenly aroused or swayed by tits.

“Mrs. King, the invitation clearly stated that children could not come.”

“They always say that but the children still attend, well
my
children at least,” she scoffed, moving to brush past me.

“I’m sorry, not this time, Mrs. King. It’s not legally allowed with what the party has to offer.”

“They’ve been around alcohol and know how to behave with it there,” she drawled. I saw from the three
grinning
teenagers that the words were more than true but definitely not how their mother was picturing it.

“I’m sure they’re angels with all the bars at the party,” I agreed, shooting them a look that I wasn’t stupid. Then I sighed and tried plan B. “Lula, Mario, would you join me please?”

I thought the two security guards checking people in at the beach entrance were going to burst out laughing then, but what else was I supposed to do?

“Oh, Mrs. King, you made it,” Mario purred as he stepped up next to me, wearing tiny see-through white trunks that were wet. He reached out and kissed her hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you.”

“I brought you guys some water,” Lula greeted the guards, in her own white, wet bikini. “You must be parched in this sun. I’ll come back when snacks are served and give you a
taste
.”

“You do that, darling,” one of the guards chuckled in a deep voice as he took the bottle from her before she moved over to me.

“You summoned us, Mr. Morgan?” Lula draped herself against me understanding full well what was going on.

“You have
slaves
in there?” Mrs. King practically choked out and the shifters did well by not flinching.

“I have shifters from the New York brothel, but this is not a
buy ball
. It’s the Hamptons, Mrs. King. They’re my servers and entertainment for the weekend. I hope you understand now why children are not—”

“Kids, go home,” she interrupted, taking Mario’s arm.

“But,
Mom
!” two bitched.

“Go
home
,” she snapped. “Adults only. You have more than enough to keep yourself busy in that house.” Then she turned to me. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. I cannot believe I made such a fuss over your wonderful invitation.”

“I didn’t see any fuss,” I lied through my teeth. I gave the kids a wave and security shooed them off.

But they weren’t the last teenagers to show up. Those three must have spread the word like wildfire through the Hamptons what was going on at my mansion, and the next thing we knew, we had kids with fake IDs coming out of our
asses
.