Master & Student (The Billionaire's Way) Book 2 (6 page)

That’s it. I can’t do this. I stand up from the table. Sergey grabs my wrist. “Sit down!” he yells. I sit down. I look at the gun. Tears start to roll down my cheeks. My boss is depending on me.
I pledged to give my life for Mr. Peak.
I pick up the gun. It’s heavy. I bring it slowly to my head. I close my eyes. I pull the trigger. *Click.*

“Ha! Ha!” Sergey yells as he grabs the gun. He puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. Sergey pulls the trigger again and again and again. “There were no bullets in the gun! All those dumb women ran out of the room crying! They are stupid whores!” Sergey screams.

The dictator’s son looks at me and smiles. He reaches over and grabs my hand. “You are not afraid to fight. You are not afraid to challenge me,” Sergey says as he looks into my eyes. The young man stands up and kisses my hand. “I choose you to be my woman,” Sergey says. Oh, lucky me.

He pulls me up and holds me close. Then he whispers into my ear, “I will make you the Princess of Odostan. A nation will bow before you. Do you know how it feels to force an entire nation of people to bow before your feet?”

I don’t know if this guy is sincere or drunk. Right now, I would much rather prefer him to be drunk. So I whisper into his ear, “The more you drink, the sexier you get.” Just for the record, this may be the first time, in recorded history, a woman has ever said that to a man.

I get up from the bed and walk back to the disco room to grab four bottles of the vodka. When I come back into the bedroom, Sergey is stripped down to his jockey shorts. Alright, I really don’t need this night to get any more fucked up.

“Come here with my vodka woman!” Sergey yells. He grabs my arm. The bottles spill all over the bed. Sergey grabs one of the bottles and begins to drink. And when I say drink, the guy just gulps down that vodka like it’s water.

I’m just waiting this guy to pass out. It is 2:00 a.m. One more hour to go. The dictator’s son begins to sing some songs in his native language. At least, I am assuming he is singing in his native language. He could be slurring gibberish for all I know.

For a moment, I think about just ditching Sergey. After all, this guy seems too drunk to know that the General is off with Mr. Peak. My boss, however, specified that I keep the dictator’s son occupied until 3:00 a.m.

Sergey reaches over for a remote control. He turns on a big plasma screen on the wall. The screen begins to display some hardcorn porn. Oh great, this situation is not any better. The dictator’s son grabs me and tries to give me a kiss.

Against my better judgement, I make out with him. I’m hoping that maybe he would just pass out, sooner or later. He grabs my ass. I put up with that. He tries to reach for my breasts. I swat his hand away. Sergey begins to laugh.

“You like to play rough? I like to play rough!” Sergey yells as he tries to jump on top of me. We fall off of the bed and wrestle around on the floor. Even though the dictator’s son is sauced, he is not completely incapacitated. He pins me down.

Sergey leans in and tries to stick his tongue in my mouth. I jerk my face away. He slaps me. “I am tired of your fucking games!” Sergey yells. He gets up and grabs me by the hair. The dictator’s son gets on the bed and pulls down his underwear.

The maniac tries to force my face down on his dick. Fuck that. I struggle to get out of the bed. He grabs me by the neck. “You will suck my dick or I will kill you!” Sergey yells as his eyes bug out.
I believe every word of it.

I look down at that dick. Then I look at my right hand. More specifically, I look at the big diamond rock on my ring finger. I slowly turn the diamond stud so it faces
inside my palm.
As I look at Sergey’s seething scowl, I remember Mr. Peak’s words -
That diamond is strong enough to rip through skin.

I smile and look into Sergey’s eyes. “Let me pleasure you with my hand so you are nice and hard for my mouth,” I say to the delight of the dictator’s son. Sergey grabs a pillow and lies back. He closes his eyes, ready for the big surprise.

I take a deep breath. I look at that sharp diamond rock. I grab Sergey’s dick and violently slash the skin. “Ah!” The dictaor’s son yells. I look down and there is blood everywhere. Blood on my hand, blood on the silk sheets, blood spurting out of Sergey’s dick.

Then I run out of the bedroom. My high heels come right off of my feet. Sergey’s screams are unlike any human sound I have ever heard in my life.
He sounds inhuman.
The mega-yacht is so big, I have trouble finding the exit.

Dammit, I run from one room to the other and can’t find access to the deck. My heart feels like it is ready to explode. As I reach a dead end, it hits me. I am below deck. I run back into a large galley area and find stairs leading up to freedom.

I run up the stairs and see one of Sergey’s massive bodyguards fucking some model from the casino. He looks up at me unsure as to what is going on. I can hear the faint screams from Sergey below deck. If the bodyguard hears those screams, I am fucked.

I nervously walk around looking for access to the mega-yacht’s deck. The bodyguard gets up and begins to walk towards the stairs. Dammit. I look in every direction. No door. Nothing. Fuck!

I look behind me and see a window. I open the window and climb up. Then I look out of that window. No deck. All I see is water glistening in the moonlight. I hear people begin to scream. That’s it. There’s nowhere to go but down!

I jump out of the window and fall about fifteen feet into the water. My body drops about five feet under the water. It takes me a few moments to regain my composure. I come up for air and begin to swim towards the harbor.

I reach land and climb up onto the sand. My body and my dress is soaking wet. I look behind me and still see Sergey’s giant mega-yacht. I begin to run away from that boat. I look at my watch. It’s 2:45. While it is not quite three o’clock, I have a feeling the whereabouts of General Zhukov is the last thing on Sergey’s mind right now!

My mind races with the instructions given to me by my boss. I am supposed to meet him at a specific street at 3:00 a.m. With all of the insanity of the past few hours I can’t remember the name of that damn street.

Think. Think. Think. I begin to walk down a road whose name I can’t pronounce. I remember it has an American name. Was it the name of a President?

I continue to walk down this street as I see exotic cars racing past me. There are a couple of drunk guys speaking with an American accent. “Excuse me?” I ask. “Is there a street around here named after an American President?”

The first guy just pukes all over the street. The second guy says, “You may be looking for Avenue J.F. Kennedy.” The guy looks me up and down and says, “Why are you so wet?” I don’t answer. I just walk away. Then the drunk American begins to yell, “She fell into the harbor! Ha!”

Avenue J.F. Kennedy? Where is that located? I continue to wander around the streets when I hear a car honk behind me. I turn around and see the high beams of an unfamiliar luxury car.
Oh my God. Is that Sergey’s car?!

I just stand there frozen for a moment. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. The car pulls up besides me. The door opens. A large man gets out of the car. However, I can see the man’s face.

“Why are you so wet?” the familiar voice of Mr. Peak booms. It’s my boss - my billionaire master. Tears begin to fall down my cheeks as I run up to him. I jump into his arms. Mr. Peak places me inside of the car and closes the door.

“Go!” my boss yells at the driver. The car speeds off. Mr. Peak pushes the wet hair away from my face. “You look like you went for a little swim in the harbor,” he announces. It takes me a moment before I can collect myself and address Mr. Peak properly.

“I had to find a creative way to exit Sergey’s mege-yacht,” I explain.

“Were there any complications?” Mr. Peak asks.

I look down at that ring with the huge diamond still pointed inside of my palm. I run my index finger over the diamond and turn it back to its proper position. “The ring came in handy,” I tell my boss.

“You used it on Sergey?”

“Um, well, yeah.”

There is a little smile on my boss’s face. He is pleased. As the car speeds down the road, my boss takes my hand and stares at the diamond. “What did you do to him?”

“He wanted me to give him a blowjob. I offered to give him a handjob beforehand,” I say as I let those words hang there for a while. A mental picture of the scene flashes back into my head. I can still hear Sergey’s screams. “There was a lot of blood.”

Silence. And then a huge laugh comes out of my boss’s mouth. I had never seen Mr. Peak laugh like that before. My boss grabs my body and presses it against his huge chest. “That’s my girl,” he says. I couldn’t feel more proud of myself right now.

As I bask in the night’s victory, I notice that the car is speeding out of Monaco! “We are not going back to the hotel?” I ask my boss.

“The jet is fueled. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. The luggage is being loaded as we speak,” Mr. Peak explains.

“So we are going back to Los Angeles?”

“No. We are going to New York. Things are moving fast, Sarah. There isn’t a minute to spare.”

Everything is moving so unbelievably fast. The driver swerves around the traffic near the airport. We get to the private plane terminal. The car stops and Mr. Peak exits. I quickly follow him as he rushes to his plane. Mr. Peak grabs me by the hand as a way to keep up with my boss’s long strides.

Mr. Peak’s Gulfstream is already waiting for us on the tarmac. We pass through a dedicated screener for private planes and we are ready to board. I swear this took us less than three minutes.

As we board the plane, I ask my boss, “Sir, why did you have to fly all the way to Monaco to have one conversation?”

“You really can’t discuss the overthrow of a country via e-mail or Skype. General Zhukov and myself used to talk through intermediaries when it came to laundering the money. But this sensitive subject required a personal face-to-face meeting away from prying eyes or anyone who may be listening,” Mr. Peak explains as he takes his seat.

I sit down next to my boss. For the first time, he turns on the satellite TV and begins to watch it with rapt attention. “By the time we hit the ground in Teterboro, things will start to get interesting,” Mr. Peak says ominously.

“When does the military overthrow begin?” I ask.

He looks at me for a moment. Mr. Peak waits for the jet door to close. Then he says simply, “In a couple of hours.”

The jet races out of Nice. My muscles relax as I leave that warped world of Sergey Molidak behind me. Mr. Peak gets on the phone and begins to speak to someone in German. The man really seems to be in his element.

Over the next few hours, Mr. Peak paces around the jet, watching the TV, making calls and checking the foreign equity and commodity markets. I stand up and hug my boss, offering him some good ole moral support from his “Favorite Pet.” He strokes my hair and pats me on the ass.

I start to unbutton my boss’s shirt. He pulls my hair until my head snaps back. “You didn’t ask permission to do that to me,” my boss says.

“I’m sorry. I thought we were fooling around.”

Mr. Peak turns me around and bends me over one of the Gulfstream chairs. He lifts up my skirt and spanks me hard. “I think your little encounter with Sergey has emboldened you a little too much. You think you are my equal?”

“No Sir. You are my master.”

Mr. Peak rips off my dress. He pulls down my thong and starts to rub my ass. My lower lip quivers as I feel all of that masculine power against my flesh. “It looks like I’m going to have to knock you down a peg or two.”

Mr. Peak bends me over one of the jet chairs and starts to run his hands between my legs. I moan as I feel my boss taking every advantage of me. He runs his hands up to my breasts and starts to play with my nipples.