Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"

Автор книги: Winter Renshaw

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Текущая страница: 37 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

TWENTY-ONE

DANE

A clear glass dildo is centered on my desk.

I end my call with a Midwest wind turbine supplier just in time to hear a knock at my door.

“Come in.”

Bellamy slips in and shuts the door behind her.

“I appreciate that you remembered to knock.” I stand up and make my way to her, cupping her face in my hand and examining her flawless makeup. The mascara streaks are gone. The disheveled hair is combed into place. A fresh spritz of perfume wafts from her warm body. “You clean up well.”

“All the better to please you.” Her gaze travels past me and lands on the glass cock.

“Yes, Bellamy. That’s for you.”

“May I?”

I nod, watching as she reaches for the nub-covered wand.

“It’s freezing,” she says, trailing her fingertips across the varying bumps and swirls that cover the exterior of the seven-inch dildo.

“You don’t miss a thing.” I smirk. “And it’s not frozen. It’s lightly chilled. I believe it makes for more of an intense experience.”

She warms it in the palm of her hand.

“Don’t do that.” I take it from her. “You’re going to be warming it up a different way.”

Her mouth curls up on one side.

“Do you think this is funny?”

Her expression ashens, and her lips form a straight line. “No.”

“Disrobe.” I step around her.

Bellamy chews on her bottom lip as she slips her blouse over her head. With delicate fingers unsnapping the back of her bra, she lets it fall. My fingers graze the side of her left breast, skimming across her nipple until it comes to a hard point. She works her pants, letting those fall to the ground as well. Two fingers slip beneath the waistband of her pink lace thong, wiggling it down her hips and kicking them across the room. When she’s all finished, she wears nothing but the look of a woman who’s confident she’s just pleased her master.

That’s where you’re wrong, my sweet Bellamy. Redemption isn’t going to be that easy for you.

I drag a finger down her stomach, past her hips, and veer to the delicious warmth emanating from between her thighs. Her stance widens, and perhaps it’s her silent way of inviting me in, but today isn’t about her pleasure.

Well, it is, and it isn’t.

My hand jerks from her the second she releases a soft sigh in response to the grazing of my thumb across her clit.

“Closet door.” I lead her to the doorjamb restraints, the ones I haven’t touched since the day I gave her a little sample. She assumes the position, lifting her wrists high and waiting patiently as I restrain them. I’m sure she’s thinking this is too easy, that she’s got this in the bag.

But that’s where she’s wrong.

“Spread,” I command, grabbing the cool glass. “You’re to keep this inside you until I say you can release it.”

“But…how?”

“You’ll figure it out.” I grab the base of the graduated dildo and press the narrow end against her clit but only once. She releases a distant moan and her chest rises and falls. “Ninety-one lashes, and if this glass cock slips out of you one time, we start over.”

The mushroom tip of the dildo presses between her seam, and I push the first of the seven inches inside followed by the second inch.  Judging by the ease in which it’s going in, she’s already wet. It’s going to be a challenge for her to keep this in, and I’m going to love every fucking minute of it.

“Why ninety-one?” she asks, her breath rushed as her eyes squeeze. Her fists clench against the restraints as I glide two more inches in with little resistance.

“Because we met thirteen days ago,” I say, pressing the final three inches in with one fluid insertion. “And because seven is my lucky number.”

She releases a guttural moan through pursed lips, and her thighs squeeze together before her feet cross at the ankles.

“Ninety-one gentle reminders that lying to me will only get you so far,” I say, reaching for the leather paddle hanging in the back of the opened closet. “Turn around and bend.”

I realize I’m asking her to do something damn near physically impossible, but I know it can be done, and if she desires to please me as much as she purports, then she’ll do it.

With her creamy white ass at my hip level, I smooth the palm of my hand across her soft hide. It’s flawless. Pale. Unmarked.

Whack!

Until now.

Whack!

“Count, Bellamy,” I remind her. “And don’t let it fall.”

Whack!

A blush of redness spreads across her left cheek, so I give it a rest and smack the other. Three more on the right cheek and then I alternate. Back and forth. Back and forth. Faster. Quick zings. Brusque blows that surely sting.

Whack!

She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t utter her safeword. I keep going, resisting the urge to run my hand along the red welts to offer a temporary moment of relief. That’s not what this is about, and she’s yet to earn such a privilege.

Her bent position allows for her skin to stretch slightly, making it all the more sensitive against the swift spankings.

“…forty-five….forty-six…” she says through clenched teeth.

An inch of graduated base of the glass cock slips out of her.

I cease the paddling for just a moment. “It’s falling out, Bellamy. You’re not holding it in tight enough. Clench tighter.”

“I’m trying,” she heaves, her face winced. “Keep going, keep going.”

“We’re only halfway there. You think you can keep it in?” I drag my hand lightly down the curve of her spine before grazing her warm ass and cupping my hand over the base of the dildo. “I could push this in for you if you wanted…”

“Please,” she begs. “Please push it in.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Because I want to please you.” She tugs against the restraints. “And because it feels so good. I want all of it inside me.”

Her thighs shake and unclench for a second. The cock falls out another inch.

“Oh, Bellamy.” I tsk, tsk her. “What are we going to do?”

I breathe in her sweet arousal, and my cock swells.

“Please, please push it in,” she begs, sucking in a breath and refusing to let it go. She’s stuck anticipating my next move, and even I don’t know yet what I’m going to do.

I hook my hand around her neck, gripping it just enough to let her know every part of her is in my hands. I pull back against her soft flesh and lean into her ear, nibbling the lobe.

“As much as I’d love to help you out right now,” I whisper. “I’m a man of my word, and I wouldn’t be doing either of us any favors.”

I release her neck, and she tucks her chin against her chest, gasping for air. My hand snakes around her stomach, reaching between her legs and flicking the dildo just enough that she feels it move inside her. Her inner thighs are slicked, coated with wetness.

“Are you ready to continue?” I ask.

She nods vehemently, her blonde hair curtaining her face. With white knuckles, she juts her ass out toward me again, her legs buckling and squeezing like her life depends on it.

Whack!

“Breathe,” I remind her. “Breathe and count.”

The paddle slaps her skin with quick, fluid movements, and she counts through gritted teeth.

“Eighty…seven…” she says. “Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety…ninety-one.”

She collapses against the wall, and the dildo falls to the ground. I retrieve it, rolling the hot, slick glass in my palm.

“You did well.” I set it aside and untie her wrists, and she heads toward her crumpled clothes on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Oh.” She freezes. “I thought you were done?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done.”

My gaze falls on her pink, pert nipples, and I drag the palm of my hand across each one until her eyes squeeze tight. Two perfect peaks. I step into her space, backing her up against a nearby wall and pushing my knee between her thighs until her stance is widened. Her knees shake, whether she’s fatigued or aroused or both, I don’t particularly care. My hand glides up her thigh and curves between her center until my fingers find her arousal. I slick a finger between her folds, feeling her stomach contract against me, and then I bring it to my mouth, tasting what my power does to her.

I guaran-fucking-tee she’s waiting for me to part her legs and run my tongue along her cleft, offering her a sweet release.

But that’s the whole point.

I’m not going to do that.

She has to earn her release.

I step aside, heading to the bathroom to run her a hot shower in my office en suite. I’m not particularly in a touchy-feely mood, and I’m not sure I have the strength not to fuck the shit out of her mouth or pussy if her naked body presses against me for too long.

When I return, she’s fallen to the floor again. Her hair covering her face and her thighs squeezing and releasing.

“Uncomfortable?” I ask.

She bites her lip. “Yes. I though there’d be more.”

“Oh.” I take her hand and pull her up, trying not to smile. “Yeah, no. Not today.”

“Not…today? Not even later today?”

“No.” I escort her into the bathroom, pulling a warm gray towel from the warming drawer and placing it on the counter. “Clean yourself up. And absolutely, under no circumstances, are you allowed to touch yourself. Understand?”

Her throat bobs and her lips press into a straight line. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.”

I leave her to shower, intentionally keeping the door open while I return to my desk in hopes of actually getting some real fucking work done.

My desk phone rings before I have a chance to finish typing the email I’m in the middle of.

“Yes, Marlene.”

“Um, I’m so sorry to bother you.” Her tone is hushed. “There’s a gentleman here asking to see Bellamy. Is she in there with you, by chance?”

“Send him to her office.” I hang up.

***

“Can I help you?” My question startles a man with sandy blond hair who’s helping himself through Bellamy’s closet, examining her wardrobe with a tight clench in his jaw.

He hangs a dress up and backs away, surrendering his hands in the air.

“This is my girlfriend’s office,” he says, as if it could excuse his snooping.

“No. It’s not.”

The asshole clears his throat and hooks his hands on his hips like he’s the one who should be annoyed with me.

“Bellamy Miller,” he says. “Her name’s on the door.”

“Right.”

“She’s…my girlfriend.”

“No. She’s not.” My neck stiffens, and my fists ache with an urge to smack him across his smug little face.

“Look, man, I don’t know who you are, but I think you’re confused.” This royal douche, Cortland I believe his name is, flashes a smile like we’re all of a sudden a couple of chums. “We’re getting married this year.”

“You’re not.”

Cortland laughs.

“You find humor in this?” I ask, clearly not laughing.

“I think you need help, buddy.”

I close the space between us, striding toward him until it’s abundantly clear I’ve got several inches on him, and I glance down my nose.

“Here’s the deal,” I say. “You and Bellamy are over. She doesn’t want to be with you. She’s not going to marry you. And you’re not going to tell her father a fucking thing because just like you were so easy to threaten her reputation, I’m about to threaten yours. McGregor, right?”

He scratches above his temple. “Yeah.”

“Dad is Walter?”

His brows furrow.

“You’re AUB, like Bellamy’s family. Your father is a medical equipment distributor.”

“What the hell?”

The day this bastard dropped her off, I had security nab the footage and zoom in on the plates, which I promptly forwarded to my guy. Everything about this asshole came up clean, but I’ll be damned if I don’t use what little information I have to bend him into submission.

“Your father’s biggest client is Premier Care Systems, a medical corporation that runs several metro area clinics and the largest teaching hospital in the state.” I brush a speck of lint from my sleeve. “Premier Care Systems is headed by Micah Bergmann, who’s a heavy supporter of every piece of anti-polygamy legislation and every anti-polygamy bill that crosses the desks on Capitol Hill, state and federal. He has deep pockets, vast connections, and he happens to be a very good friend of mine.”

“What’s your point?”

“One phone call, Cortland. One phone call is all it would take for your father’s little empire to come crumbling down.” I fold my arms. “There goes your father’s business, your job, your brothers’ jobs, and your family’s livelihood.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I, Cortland? Because I have to ask, are you crazy enough to destroy everything your father has ever worked for because you’re a spoiled lap dog refusing to release his toy?”

His mouth parts but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and glances out the window. I’d assume he’s trying to gather his thoughts, but I’m certain his head is full of mostly dead space and memorized You-Porn videos.

“I want to see her. I want to hear her tell me she doesn’t want to be with me. I’m not going to be broken up with by some arrogant asshole in a three-piece suit who walks around like he’s better than everyone.”

“I am better than everyone.” I flash a wolfish grin. “That’s the kicker. I’m better than you. I’m better than 99.9% of the men out there. And that’s what makes me better appointed for someone like Bellamy. She deserves a real man. Not some idiot flinging threats like a monkey throwing feces in his cage.”

“You’re something else.” Cortland hangs his head, and I’m not quite sure why he hasn’t fled the building yet.

Does he really think he’s going to win this argument?

“This discussion is over, Cortland. You and Bellamy are done. You will say nothing to her parents about her or anything you think she has or hasn’t done. You’re never to contact her again, and if I hear you so much as thought about trying to contact her again, I’ll make my phone call.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“Then you’re a goddamned moron.” I lean forward, picking up the receiver on Bellamy’s phone and dialing 831 for building security. “I suggest you leave now, because if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to have you escorted off the premises in handcuffs.”

Cortland licks his lips, glaring at me. I’m sure he’d love nothing more than to spit in my face, and part of me wishes he’d pull something because I’m craving a physical release something fierce.

“Five seconds, Cortland.” My fist clenches at my side, aching and restrained.

He hesitates before shaking his head, his laser stare never leaving me until he brushes past me. Fortunately for him, our shoulders didn’t graze, or we’d have had ourselves a good, old-fashioned sparring and not of the gentleman variety.

“Gary, you there?” I speak into the receiver to the security guard. “Make sure Cortland McGregor exits the premises. And he’s not allowed in this building again. Blacklist him.”

After a careful inspection of Bellamy’s things, I ensure nothing has been taken or moved out of place before heading back to my office.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, stepping out of the bathroom and wrapped in a fluffy towel. Her creamy skin glistens, and it takes everything I have not to gnaw on my knuckles as I feast on her elegance. Her bare feet graze the carpet before she rises on her tip toes, leaning against the doorway and flashing a devilish smile.

“Took care of some business.” I straighten the knot of my tie and take a seat at my desk, refusing to let her out of my sight because a freshly showered beauty is the most exquisite thing in the world. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“If you’re not too busy being all mysterious,” she says, sauntering toward me and bending to pick her clothes off the floor, “would you mind letting me know if I could get dressed? Please?”

“How do we ask?”

“Please, Master, may I get dressed?”

“You may.” I yank a drawer open and pull out two tiny clamps. “But first.”

“What are those?”

“They’re for you to wear,” I say, eyeing the pointed peaks of her round breasts.

Her eyes grow wide. “They look painful.”

“My goal isn’t to hurt you, Bellamy. We’ve gone over this before.” I wait for her safeword, which never comes, so I squeeze the clamps over her soft pink buds. They spring awake once more. Lucky for her these are meant for novices, beginners. They’re not painful, just stimulating. “You’re to wear these under your clothes until five o’clock tonight. They’re inconspicuous, so no one will know they’re there. Except for you. You’ll notice them at all times, and you’re to imagine I’m touching you. And by the end of the day, you’ll wish I was touching you, but sadly for you, I have to attend a dinner with my brother and Odessa since they’re flying home in the morning.”

She pouts her bottom lip and promptly winces.

“How do you feel, Angel?”

“Tender. Sensitive.” Her fingertips trace the plastic clamps lightly. “But in a good way.”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll return them to me before you leave for the day,” I say, standing and grabbing a nearby portfolio. “I’m going to run a few errands, and then I’ve got a presentation to give at the local energy co-op.”

Tugging her bra into place, she stops when the lace cups catch the clamps. Bellamy winces. “You’re just going to leave me all day? Like this?”

I place the portfolio aside and strut up to her, dragging my hands down the sides of her bare arms to get one last touch before she’s covered up again. My lips warm at the thought of kissing her ruby pout before I go, but I won’t.

She needs to want it, and she needs to want it now. It’s part of her punishment. I spent the better part of a week and a half craving her, fantasizing about all the things I wanted to do to her. It all came to a peak just before the night I was to finally take her as mine. The rug was swept out.

My punishments always fit the crime, and in this case. Bellamy is going to want me, no need me, more than she’s ever needed anything in her young adult life…

Because last weekend, that’s how badly I needed her.

TWENTY-TWO

BELLAMY

They say it’s not the package that counts but what’s inside.

And that’s precisely why my heart jumps into my throat when I pull out the weird, c-shaped, rubberized toy Dane gifted me on his way out of the office today.

Monday it was the nipple clamps.

Tuesday it was an hour in a chastity device while he tickled and teased every part of me without so much as going near the fiery furnace between my thighs.

Wednesday it was the elaborate restraint system that held me spread eagle while he examined every part of my body, describing it in the most sexually stimulating way he possibly could, and then proceeding to explain, in detail, what he would do to me if I weren’t still on punishment.

Today, it’s this contraption…

A wireless vibrator controlled only by him.

He’s been screwing my mind all week, but this feels like a move in the right direction.

Finally.

I’m to insert it the moment I get the text tonight, and he’s going to tease me from wherever he happens to be at that time. The caveat? I’m still not allowed to orgasm.

I shove the box under my bed and tuck it behind a group of empty shoes boxes. I would absolutely die if anyone in this household happened to see this. My only hope is that the thing is quiet, because this is an old house, and these walls are paper-thin.

The clock reads seven, which means it’s time to help get the younger kids to bed. I hop down the hall and take the stairs two at a time until I land in the family room and promptly help my mothers pick up puzzle pieces and Legos while the kids pretend like they’re doing the work.

I know that trick…

“It’s so weird not seeing Cortland this week.” My mother bends to reach for a stuffed rabbit and tucks it under her arm. “Have you heard from him, Bellamy?”

“I haven’t. He’s probably busy working.”

The truth is, I have absolutely no clue what happened.

It’s bizarre.

I thought it was odd he wasn’t here after work on Monday, but I let it go thinking he’d text or call me like he always does. And Tuesday, when I came home, I fully expected his car to be parked out front but it wasn’t. By Wednesday, my father was beginning to get worried, so I put on a good face and called Cortland, leaving a sweet voicemail when he didn’t answer. He wasn’t even at Bible study that night.

But today? Thursday? Still nothing.

Not that I’m complaining.

I’m jumping for joy on the inside, praising destiny and karma and whoever else had a role in removing Cortland McGregor from my life.

“Something’s up. I can feel it.” Summer dumps a handful of Legos into a plastic tote and snaps the lid. She’s always claiming she’s sensitive or something, like she can predict the weather or the outcome of a baseball game. My father would scold her if she ever said she was psychic. We’re not allowed to talk about anything in this house that the Bible condemns. “I mean, a man just doesn’t turn cold. Something happened. Are you sure you two didn’t have a falling out? You seemed a little distant on Saturday when his family was here.”

Oh, so it’s automatically my fault?

“Oh, yeah? I thought everything went well. I had a great time,” I lie. “Maybe he’s traveling for work this week. Or maybe he changed his mind or met someone else. It could be anything. I’m not going to stress about it.”

“I might have your father give Walter a call to find out what’s going on,” Mom says, chucking a velveteen rabbit into a basket of animal stuffed orphans in the corner.

“That’s not necessary.” My face pinches and I swat her offer away. “We’re adults. We’ll figure it out. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

Maybe I should be moping around like some heartbroken princess, but I couldn’t hide my relief if I tried so I’m taking the calm and cool approach.

“You were so crazy about him, Bellamy,” Kath sighs from across the room. “I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

Trust me, ladies. That’s one thing you will not need to worry about.

“Can we not talk about this? You guys are stressing me out.” I turn my back to them so they won’t see the enormous grin consuming my face.

“Yes, yes,” Summer says. “We’ll drop it for now and think positive thoughts. And if he’s not the one for you, I just know we’ll find you someone even better. Your father has all kinds of connections, and you’re a very eligible bachelorette in our ward.”

“Come on, guys. I’ll help you pick out your pajamas,” I grab two of the younger kids by the hand and take them to the house next door.

By the time the house is asleep, I settle into my room and lock the door, paging through a contraband copy of Cosmo magazine while I wait for my text.

Fifty-Three Ways to Please Your Man Tonight…

How to Have Multiple Orgasms…

Be the Best He’s Ever Had…

I check my phone and ensure I haven’t missed any text messages. Releasing a yawn, I type up a text.

I’M GETTING TIRED. ARE WE STILL ON FOR TONIGHT?

The phone rests face down on my chest as I wait for his response and return to the pages of my magazine and learn about moves and positions I never knew were possible.

My phone buzzes, though it may as well send an electric shock straight through to my heart.

YOU SOUND IMPATIENT.

I smile and fire one back.

IMPATIENT. NEEDY. DESPERATE. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

He replies ten seconds later.

MORE THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY KNOW.

I zip a quick “What are you waiting for?” back and wait. A moment later, something begins to vibrate, but it’s not my phone. It sounds muffled. Distant.

Oh, yeah.

It’s under my bed.

I fly off, practically landing on my knees and yanking out boxes until I get to the one containing my happy little friend, but by the time I pull it out, it stops vibrating.

I fire off a text.

THAT’S NOT FAIR. YOU DIDN’T TELL ME TO START YET.

My phone lights up. He’s calling.

He never calls.

He knows not to.

I press the green ‘answer’ button and duck under two blankets and a pillow.

“Why are you calling?” I whisper.

“To see if you’d answer.”

“You know I can’t talk,” I whisper again.

“Fine. Don’t talk. But I want to listen so I can be sure.”

“Sure about what?”

“That you don’t come without permission.”

“You don’t trust me yet, do you?” I roll to my side and slip the c-shaped toy between my folds and slip the tip inside. I could release myself right now if I tried. Everything he’s done to me all week has stacked up, layers upon layers, building with an unbearable intensity.

“Of course not,” he replies. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Master.” I giggle and then clamp my hand over my mouth. If anyone catches me, I’ll be a dead woman. Thick, cherry heat warms my cheeks at the mere thought of getting caught. I whisper, “I’m not talking again after this. I can’t, Dane. I really can’t.”

“Quiet,” he purrs. The gadget vibrates on low, slowly teasing me. A quick pulse on high is all I get before it simmers back down again. “Did you like that, Angel?”

I don’t answer. I don’t need to.

He ramps it up higher. Two seconds. Then it stops completely.

My lower back arches, bucking against the nothingness I wish so desperately was something substantial. I’m positive if I humped my sheets right now I’d come.

“Here we go, Bellamy.” His low voice tickles my eardrum through the phone and lights my nerve-endings on fire. The device buzzes inside me, steady, constant, just enough but not nearly enough at the same time.

I want more.

I need more.

The gadget makes a soft buzzing sound under my blankets. The wall behind me is the bathroom and the wall in front of me is my parents’ room. My desperation temporarily renders the fear of getting caught null and void.

My legs part, separating wide and grinding against thin air. I offer him not a single moan, and I fight each and every whimper. All he gets to hear is my breathing, which I’m quite sure he’s using to gauge how close I am. Knowing Dane, he wants to take me to that place just before the edge and then bring me right back just as tortured and unsatisfied as I was when we started.

The bottom of my tongue slides across my lower lip as the build-up intensifies. If he doesn’t stop soon, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control this…

Dane blows a satisfied breath into the phone. “And we’re done now. Goodnight, Bellamy.”

The device stops cold, and the call ends.

I can’t take another day of this. It ends tomorrow. No more edge play.

I’m desperate to come, and I’ll do whatever it takes.