Hansel 1-4: The Complete Series by Ella James Read Free Book Online Page A

all these girls seem to be between five-foot-one and five-foot-five. Wide hips and an ass I can sink my hands into. Blonde hair—pale, honey, and dark. I usually stick to pale blonde, but occasionally I deviate. If the only short girl in the pack with an ass, hips, and a Midwestern accent comes with dark blonde hair, I’ll take her.
    I quickly thumb through the fifteen cards, pick four, and buzz Raymond in. Today, he’s wearing red suspenders with his black, hand-tailored suit. His fro looks especially tall and wide, and I notice that he’s wearing different eyeglasses than normal. These look…thicker. At fifty-three, I guess Ray’s decided to go hipster.
    I reach across the desk and hand the four selected cards to him. “Contact these.”
    He looks down at them, then nods thoughtfully. “It’ll have to be this morning.”
    “Yeah?”
    He nods again. “You’re flying to Boston tomorrow. Homes for Heroes, board of directors?”
    “See who can be here in the next hour or two, then. You can call a few more if you want. Stick to light blondes this round. They’re all the right body type. I’ll meet you in the executive guests’ suite in two hours sharp. Have them separated, dressed and, obviously, masked. Tell me about the nine-thirty show, with Jones and Freeman?”
    I listen to Raymond explain that Laura Freeman, one of our performers, is nine weeks pregnant and doesn’t feel comfortable with the whipping portion of the show. Something about getting an infection.
    “Give her leave.”
    He blinks. “Leave?”
    I drum my fingers on my knee and sigh. “Maternity leave, Raymond?”
    “But, sir…she hasn’t had the child.”
    “So what? I don’t expect pregnant women fucking in my House.” Anger heats my neck. “How often does this happen, Raymond?”
    “Maybe…every other year.”
    “What do you normally do with them?” I ask.
    I glare at him without meaning to at first, because my cock is hard, my suite is empty, and my back hurts.
    “Well…sir, we let them go. Pregnancy and this career are incompatible. Remember? You wrote it into the standard contract years ago.”
    I wave my hand. “Change it.”
    “You said pregnant women—”
    “Change it,” I growl.
    “Yes, sir.”
    I exhale slowly, stand up, and wave toward the door. “Get it handled for me. I’ve got a call in five with the vodka guy. After that, there’s something else. I’ll see you in the executive suite. Have them ready for me.”
    Raymond nods and leaves my office. I spend the next half-hour on the phone with our largest vodka supplier.
    After that, I open a new web browser, turn on an IP-address scrambler, and break one of my own personal rules.
    I google Leah McKenzie, Peachtree City, Interior Design .
     
    By noon, my cock is so hard, it’s throbbing, and my patience has worn paper-thin. I couldn’t find anything recent on Leah. It’s as if she’s disappeared these past six months. She hasn’t even updated her company’s web site since August 2013. I’m entertaining the possibility that she’s died or been abducted—again.
    I’m sitting on the king sized bed, flipping through my iPhone contacts for my favorite PI, when the first girl knocks. I set the phone beside me and sit up a little as she struts into the room.
    She’s wearing the uniform—blue teddy with blue garters, and a silver, masquerade-style mask—the way she should, but immediately, I spot a problem. Her neck and upper shoulders are pocked with acne.
    I look her over, have her turn a slow circle, and thank her for her time before dismissing her. She never speaks a word—just goes.
    Next is T-Rex. She’s got a fuckable ass and nice enough tits, but the hands on her are…rough and weathered-looking. Leah’s hands are soft.
    Cut.
    My mood has worsened by the time the third one walks into the room. It takes another nosedive when I start to…smell her? What the fuck? But yes. Fuck yes. That’s fucking B.O. I sit up a little, checking to be sure it