Page 13 of On Your Knees

“Aspen,” Ridge spits. “I’m getting my lawyers on this first thing tomorrow. Good luck running your business by the time I’m done with you.”

Barbie laughs. “I would like to see you try, boy.”

“Don’t waste your breath—it’s not worth it. I can easily find another job,” I say, trying to defuse the situation. “Can we just go, please?”

I’m still shaking as Zeland takes my hand in his, and as Ridge goes to step over the man on the ground, he bends down and snaps a picture of him.

“You’re going to regret touching what’s not yours,” he seethes, and returns to his full height before kicking the man right in his stomach, causing him to groan in pain.

Zeland pulls me away and I follow behind him, his large strides hard to keep up with. When we push through the front doors, I gasp for air. Ridge stands in front of me and places a hand on either side of my face.

“Breathe, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly... that’s a good girl.” Ridge keeps talking until the panic releases me from its grip.

“I knew you liked me.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I just don’t want you to die on my watch, stray. Zeland, you drive her back to the house. I’ll be home shortly.”

“Was already planning on it,” Zeland says as Ridge turns to leave. “Ridge...”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid, just come home.”

They stare at each other for a few moments and then Ridge turns and leaves. I don’t ask what that was about; it’s none of my business. Now that I’m no longer in a panicked state, anger is flaring through my bones.

Zeland drives us home in silence. When we get back, he tells me he is going to shower, and I let him know I’m going to game for a while. Tonight was a shitshow, and I shouldn’t have been surprised something happened. It’s not the first time I’ve been fired for reacting badly to being treated like a piece of meat.

Chapter Five

Arlo

Designing video games is my dream job. Working for Ridgeland Global Enterprises has always been my ultimate goal, though landing a job there is not so easy. I have been trying for an entire year, with no luck scoring a callback. I even applied for other positions within the company just to get my foot in the door, but still no luck.

Pulling up the View4U app, I scroll to one of my favorite creators. He doesn’t do anything except tell me how to get myself off—and not even just me, but his followers in general. I’m blazed as fuck. I hate the night, and I rarely sleep, spending my time watching the darkness turn into the early morning light.

Instead, I’ve been beta testing a new game. The pay is half decent for a newer company, and I even convinced them to allow me to bring a friend. I use the term friend loosely since I only know her as UrNewStep_Mom, but damn, I enjoy her company. She is refreshing and can fit in with the guys, giving as good as she gets without having her feelings hurt.

I wish I could meet a woman like her in real life. Not that she would want a twenty-three-year-old man who still lives with his mother, has no real job prospects, and nothing going for him. Besides, I’m not six feet tall with abs for days. I’m five foot ten on a good day, though my body is decent for a guy who doesn’t go to the gym, eats terribly, and smokes too much weed when I get bored. I know the mom part scares people away, but even if I had a job, I would most likely still live here. It’s always been us against the world, and as far as moms go, mine is pretty cool.

Wrapping my fingers around my cock, I lean back in my bean bag, my blunt hanging from my lips as I listen to the creator’s raspy voice telling me to stroke it slow. I take my time as my mind wanders to UrNewStep_Mom, picturing what she might look like in real life. Is she a brunette, or maybe a blonde? Is she tall—no, with that fiery personality, I think she’s a short little thing. Playing against her is like foreplay, and my cock gets hard the second she wipes out an entire team of men.

My headset sparks to life and I grip my cock tighter. “Fucking stupid piece of shit,” comes through the speakers.

“Hey!” I chuckle, surprised she is even awake at this time of the morning. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh shit, not you, DarkSoul! My boss fucking fired me. Can you believe that? I really needed that job, and sure, I should have kept my hands to myself, but my temper is my downfall. I can overlook a sneaky ass squeeze, even if I shouldn’t, but the motherfucker touched my pussy.”

Releasing my cock, I tuck it away, now too invested in wanting to murder someone to continue. “What did you do?”

“I grabbed his dick and twisted it as hard as I could. It served the fucker right. But I feel like I have a sign on my forehead that reads: touch me. You’d think my resting bitch face would scare them away, yet they don’t see it when they’re drunk.”

I snort. “I guess it’s a good thing you have to look for a new job. What about those fancy-pants rich guys you live with? Maybe they could give you a job?”

She scoffs. “Oh, I’m sure one would, but my job title would be live-in whore.”

I stub out the blunt in the ashtray beside me. “Is your living situation even safe?”

She chuckles, and the way she sounds is weird, almost as if AI is being used to cover her real voice. I don’t bring it up—if she wants to protect her identity from strangers on the internet it’s a smart thing to do.

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