Chapter 285: You’ll Be My Personal Slut

For a second, Durnik just stared at the screen.

The words did not land cleanly the first time. This was the same woman who had avoided him for months. The same woman he had spent money on, chased through gifts, late-night transfers, and one-sided video calls without ever getting a real meeting. He had almost given up on putting his hands on her at all.

And now she was the one asking to stay close.

"Wait," he said, leaning nearer to the camera. "What did you just say?"

Gracie kept her voice soft and sticky-sweet, still holding the wet dildo against the thin fabric over her pussy, breasts bare except for the black taped X over each nipple.

"Papi, please," she murmured, looking straight into the lens. "I want to be with you. I want to see you every day. How about I become useful for you and start working in your company, papi?"

The request hit him harder than the apology ever had.

His mind went filthy almost immediately. He could already see it. That thick Latina ass bent over his desk. Those heavy breasts moving while he pounded into her from behind. Her coming into the office every morning in tight clothes, available, dependent, already softened by guilt and need. Not one night. Every day.

His hand tightened around the front of his pants where his little dick was already hard.

"Yes," he said, too fast. Then again, thicker with lust. "Yes. You’ll be my personal slut. You can come."

Gracie let her face light up like she had not expected him to break that easily.

"Really, papi?" she asked, bouncing slightly on the bed so her bare breasts swayed under the camera light. The movement was deliberate, soft flesh shifting, the black tape over her nipples drawing his eyes again and again.

Durnik nodded hard, still staring, still rubbing himself through his pants with no real shame left in the motion.

"Yes. Come work under me. You’ll stay close. You’ll answer when I call. You’ll belong here."

Gracie softened her expression into grateful obedience at once.

"Ohh, thank you, papi. I really appreciate it. You won’t regret it, I promise. Papiii..."

She let the gratitude sit for only a second before sliding the real condition in beneath it, still in that sweet, breathless tone.

"But papi... hope you will not send your men after me again."

The change in Durnik was instant.

Some of the lust drained into alarm. His hand slowed. In his head, the image of Tharok returning from that failed job rose up fast and ugly. Broken teeth. Blood. Failure. And behind all of it, the memory of Lucas standing between this woman and the men Durnik had sent.

Fear cut through the arousal.

"I won’t," he said quickly. "I will never let anybody touch you. I swear on my life. Anyone who goes after you dies."

Even as he said it, he was already deciding to warn Tharok personally. Hands off. No second attempt. No contact. If Tharok so much as looked in her direction again, Durnik would end him himself.

On the screen, Gracie smiled like a woman who had just secured both protection and entry.

"Thank you, papi," she whispered. "I’ll be good for you."

Gracie turned her body for him again.

Slowly. Deliberately. She shifted on the bed so the camera could catch the full side of her bare breasts, the thin red thong cutting between her thick ass cheeks, and the wet dildo still resting against her inner thigh.

Every small movement was for the old man on the other end of the screen, giving him just enough to keep his hand moving.

"You like that, papi?" she murmured. "You like watching me like this?"

Durnik didn’t answer with real words anymore. His breathing had gone rough and uneven. Off-screen, his arm kept working in short, desperate strokes. All the earlier fury had collapsed into pure need.

Gracie kept the act going for a few more minutes, voice soft and filthy, promising closeness, obedience, daily access, anything that kept him locked in place. She squeezed her breasts together for the camera, rubbed the toy lightly against the front of her thong, and watched him fall apart without ever fully giving him what he wanted.

Then his face tightened.

A broken sound left him, and his body jerked as he finished on himself, spilling across his hand and stomach in messy, useless pulses. For a second he just sat there breathing hard, spent and staring at her image like he had won something.

Gracie ended the call before he could recover enough to demand more.

The screen went black.

Silence filled the hotel room.

She stayed still for a moment, bare breasts rising and falling, the dildo still shiny with spit in her hand. A sharp irritation settled under her skin. This was the most she had ever given him without getting money, or anything solid in return.

All that performance. All that soft talking. All because Lucas had forced the board into motion and left her to clean up the danger with her body.

"Fucking bastard," she muttered.

She meant Lucas.

Even so, the thought of actually letting Durnik put that little dick anywhere near her made her stomach turn. Working at his company was one thing. Smiling for him, teasing him, feeding his fantasy, fine. But letting that old man climb on top of her? Letting him touch her for real?

Never.

She shook her head hard, as if arguing with someone who was not even in the room. "That will never happen. Nobody can tell me otherwise. Not even him."

In her head, "him" was Lucas again.

She set the dildo aside, pulled off the rest of the red lingerie, and walked into the bathroom. Under the hot water she washed everything thoroughly, cleaning the spit and leftover performance from her skin, then scrubbed the toy and the rest of the things she had brought out until no trace of the call remained.

By the time she finished, the suite was quiet and the night had gone deep.

Gracie wrapped herself in a towel, dropped onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a short while with the same cold calculation still turning behind her eyes. Then exhaustion finally pulled her under, and she slept.