That, and this woman was still quite hot.
“So you were asking about me?” I said dryly.
Emily blushed. There was something I so very much relished about being able to dictate her moods like this.
“I suppose it would be accurate to say I am,” I continued. “I have a collection of cars somewhere. A garage’s worth, in fact. It’s a hobby of mine.”
I could have spoken for hours on end about cars and my love of them. But since this felt like the winding down of a conversation, I decided I’d just hint at it and table it for whenever we next met again. I knew full well I would see Emily again. She wouldn’t let me get away without at least a firm answer.
“Well, I’ve got something else to sweeten the deal if you agree to this.”
“Oh?”
Obviously, something car related. I’d had a lot of offers in my day, though, but—
“A 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO in mint condition. I’ll sign it over to you if you agree to this. Still get the five million.”
Is. She. Fucking. Serious?
There were only thirty-nine of those ever made in the entire world. There was rare, there was collector’s item, and then there was the ‘62 Ferrari 250 GTO. It felt more like an urban legend than anything that actually existed. And yet…
It was arguable that such a vehicle would actually be worth more than the five million Emily said she’d pay. But I didn’t even give a shit about it. It was more about the pursuit of something so rare and so unique. I didn’t get floored very often. In fact, ever since I’d gotten into DOM, I couldn’t remember ever being genuinely surprised.
But fuck me, Emily Lorne had pulled off the impossible. She had shocked me.
“You’re fucking crazy,” I said, believing that this had to be a scam or a trick of some sort.
“Maybe. I am a little desperate, after all,” she said, a smirk forming on her lips.
Jesus. This girl’s really fucking serious about getting my cum inside of her one way or another. So much so she’d give me that fucking car.
I truly have never seen anything like this. Ever. Ever. Fucking ever!
“How the fuck did you even acquire a ‘62 250 GTO?” I said, still doubting the likelihood of this story. “The last one sold was for, shit, I think fifty million!”
“Well, my father was one of the original buyers. And, on top of that, he got approval from Enzo Ferrari himself.”
“The namesake of Ferrari,” I said with almost reverential awe. “Who the fuck is your father?”
Emily shrugged. I didn’t like this. She suddenly looked like the one in control here. She’d found a weak point of mine. I’d have to lay off on showing my enthusiasm for cars—or at least reel it in since that cat had probably already gotten out of the damn bag.
“Let’s just leave it at he came from money.”
“Came?”
“Yeah, remember, I’m not some college co-ed. My father died a few years back. Mom’s still around, but she’s grumpy and miserly in New York. Anyway, that’s all to say that my father left the car to me in his will. I haven’t done much with it, but it sure seems like it’ll make for a useful bargaining chip.”
Shit. I really wished I’d not let myself show so much enthusiasm. And this was why stoicism was the best trait to have as a DOM.
“Well, you did sweeten the deal pretty nicely there, but I still need to think about it.”
Alas, Emily seemed utterly non-plussed by what I said. She had regained her confidence and felt powerful.
And my instinct, when I saw a woman who felt like they had that kind of power over me, was to handcuff her behind her back and have my way with her. Show her who was boss.
But unfortunately, in this fucking case, that would be playing exactly into what she wanted!
Never before had I felt so much like someone had lured me into a trap. It was a damn good thing Emily was a good person and, for the most part looking to work with me, not against me. I didn’t like this feeling.
“Well, think on it some more, and let’s meet tomorrow,” she said with way too much confidence compared to five minutes ago. “In the meantime, here’s my first offering to you. Tonight’s bar tab.”
She tossed me a twenty. I nearly grabbed her arm mid-air and pulled her into me just so I could remind her I was in charge.
But that was the fucking thing. I wasn’t sure I was as much as I wanted to be.
“I’ll text you details in the morning.”
And with that, Emily Lorne left, somehow seeming to score a victory over me when I didn’t even think she was capable of pulling such a feat off.
I finished my Manhattan, slid the twenty to the bartender, and made my way back to my hotel room, about a five-minute walk from the bar. I used the walk to ruminate on what had just happened, all the while remaining alert to my surroundings and making sure nothing could catch me off-guard. It may have been downtown Miami, but danger was everywhere, it was just a question of if it was targeted at you or not.
On the one hand, the car was fucking nice. One of thirty-nine in the entire fucking world. And it would be mine at no cost other than a few minutes of watching porn, coming into a cup, and walking away.
But it wasn’t like having that car would magically transform my life. I was already, frankly, rich as I needed to be, and I liked my life very much as it was. I got to
