Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"
Автор книги: Winter Renshaw
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Текущая страница: 41 (всего у книги 43 страниц)
THIRTY-TWO
BELLAMY
Dane’s out cold.
The sun’s not out yet, and my eyes are hardly adjusted enough to read the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock, but every muscle in my body knows it’s too early to be up.
Still, I can’t stop staring.
I’ve seen him naked plenty of times. That’s nothing new. But I’ve never seen him asleep. I roll to my side and feast on the man with the hollowed cheekbones, the dark lashes, and the perfectly bowed lips.
His soundless breathing and peaceful expression make him look like a painting. Without his three-piece suit and that permanent arrogant glimmer in his eyes, he looks like any other man. Right now he’s Superman without the cape.
I always preferred Clark Kent anyway.
My eyes trace the length of his bare arms before settling on the lines and ridges of his upper body. His skin is soft, smooth, lightly tanned and perfectly toned. I’d press my cheek against his chest if it wouldn’t wake him.
I wish he’d stir a little, just enough to roll a bit closer, and hoist his arm around me, pulling me in. Maybe someday I’ll be with someone who’s comfortable holding me for longer than five minutes at a time.
My lids become weighted, and the promise of another hour or two of sleep sings to me. I’m stuck at a crossroads, torn between getting more sleep or studying the gorgeous, broken man in front of me. Both equally tempting.
“Go back to sleep, Bellamy.”
He’s awake.
“Yes, Master.” Even in my half-asleep state, I’m keen enough to cover my tracks. The last thing I need is for him to think I was lying here admiring him…
Because I absolutely was.
***
Dane returns from the hotel gym as I’m about to step into the shower. The conference is in ninety minutes. He hasn’t said a word all morning, and I’m not sure if that’s normal or not considering the fact that this is the first time I’ve stayed the night with him.
With my back to the hot water, I tilt my head, shutting my eyes. The clink of the shower curtain sends a shock to my heart, and I grasp at my naked body until I realize that a very undressed, deliciously sweaty Dane is climbing in with me.
“Oh, hello.” I hand him a bar of soap. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine for one second. “Have a good workout?”
His hands grab my ass, and we switch places, our wet bodies gliding and slicking against the current of steaming hot water. Even covered in sticky sweat, he smells amazing, and I wouldn’t mind licking him clean.
“Keep your eyes up here,” he teases. He’s testing me. He wants to make this a game so that he has an excuse to punish me should I disobey.
He hasn’t punished me in a while, and I kind of miss it because no one has ever pushed my boundaries the way he has.
“I’ll try, Master.” I give him a wink, resisting the overpowering urge I have to steal a kiss from his wet lips.
His fingertips graze up my hip until he reaches a nipple, which he wastes no time twisting between his thumb and middle finger. Leaning down, he draws the tender bud into his mouth and then moves to the other. My head dips back, brought forward again the second his massive erection presses against my thigh and sends a shiver down my center.
Dane’s hand glides down my slick thighs and up to my core, slipping a wet finger between my seam before pushing it inside me.
I reach for the shower wall, gasping and silently pleading for him to keep going. He’s notorious for teasing, giving samples and previews, and leaving me desperately hungry for more. Only when I can hardly stand it anymore does he reward me.
My hips grind against his hand, responding to his every touch. I almost faint when he lowers himself to his knees and brings his tongue to my clit. With fists pounding the tile wall of the shower, I whimper and exhale.
It’s my tell.
“You can come now,” he says, his lips moving against my sex.
I want to grab fistfuls of his lush, dark hair, but I know I’m not allowed, so I grab my breasts instead. I need something to cling to that’s not a toy or a strap or an inanimate object. I ride the wave all the way to the end until I nearly collapse on the shower floor. Dane pulls me up into his arms, placing me back under the warm, running water.
Maybe it’s the steam getting to me or maybe it’s my post-orgasmic brain fog, but I fall to my knees and take him in my mouth. I don’t ask permission. I don’t think about it. I just act.
He doesn’t stop me, in fact, his cock throbs in my mouth, growing larger as my tongue circles and swirls every inch of him from shaft to tip. A delicious bead of pre-cum hits my tongue, and I know for a fact I’ll be sucking him dry this morning.
I grab the base of his cock, my tongue dancing across every groove and vein as I pull him into my mouth over and over. It’s different this time. It’s just us. Naked. In a gorgeous tiled shower. No toys. No props. No straps or restraints. No need to worry about choosing my words carefully or asking politely.
Dane grabs a fistful of my hair and releases a guttural groan, thrusting his hips into my mouth. I suck harder and move faster, wordlessly begging for that explosion. He tugs my hair hard, bursting into my mouth at the same time. I swallow every last drop and wipe my mouth, rising with a satisfied smile.
The second our eyes meet, the party ends. He doesn’t thank me. Doesn’t give me a verbal pat on the back. He simply lathers his body with soap, washes and rinses his hair, and steps out of the shower.
THIRTY-THREE
DANE
“Did you enjoy your stay in Nashville?” We climb into the back of my limo Sunday afternoon as my driver, Bronson, hoists our bags into the trunk.
“I did.”
She was quiet most of the way back, her nose buried in that same damn book. I’m convinced she was pretending to read it the entire time.
Bronson climbs in the front and pulls away from the tarmac. By the time we’re merging onto the interstate, she’s spent the better part of the last several minutes staring out the tinted window on her left.
The Saturday morning shower changed things.
I’m not a vanilla man. I don’t prefer vanilla exchanges. I’m not sure why I allowed what I allowed. I wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to act afterward. A mixture of warmth, pleasure, and powerlessness smacked into me like a runaway freight train, and I couldn’t process it at the time.
I still can’t.
“We’ll do more business trips together,” I tell her.
She nods.
After we’d left for the conference Saturday, she spent eight hours manning a booth, and I spent eight hours giving presentations and personally hosting our keynote speakers. We crashed that night after ordering room service and watching some historical drama on pay-per-view.
Now here we are.
Back in Salt Lake City.
Everything around us is exactly the same, but everything about us has changed.
When Bronson drops her off at her car outside Townsend Tower, I climb out with her. Not only do I intend on giving her a proper goodbye, but I need to make sure she’s okay.
And also, I need to know that we’re okay.
Bronson pulls her bag from the limo trunk and wheels it to the back of the Discovery.
“I’ll see you Monday.” I stand before her, but her gaze is fixed at my feet. “Bellamy, look at me.”
We meet nose to nose and eye to eye.
I’m losing her.
I can feel it.
And the fact that I can feel it means something.
Everything about the ache in my chest that appears when I imagine my life without her in it, tells me she’s not just my submissive anymore. But I’m not exactly sure what she is, and I’m not entirely positive I need to go flinging labels on things and making heartfelt declarations just yet.
I don’t scare easily, but damn if the thought of opening up to her makes my stomach churn.
I cup her chin, lifting her mouth just enough. Pressing my lips against hers, I run my tongue along the seam of her mouth until she opens for me. Our tongues mingle, and my fingers dig into the soft underside of her jaw.
It’s a passionate kiss: the kind of kiss lovers might exchange. Fear sinks its gnarled teeth into me, convincing me that if I don’t kiss her here and now, like this, I might never see her again.
She pulls away, a definite first, and slips away, her heels clicking toward her ride.
“Thanks for everything,” she says, climbing in.
“See you Monday.”
***
I don’t see her Monday.
Instead I receive a text at eight o’clock that morning, asking if she can take the day off to hunt for apartments.
I give her permission and almost offer my assistance, changing my mind when I know she’ll just turn it down. She wants to do it all on her own, and I respect that.
Relief comes the second I see her Tuesday morning.
“Find a place, did you?” I ask after leading her to my office.
Her hands wrap around a mug of tea, and her glazed expression piques my curiosity.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“I found a beautiful apartment on Hickory Street south of Campus Town,” she says. “Two bedrooms. Big windows. Tall ceilings. A fireplace even.”
“Wonderful.”
“They won’t rent to me because I don’t have any credit history.” She takes a careful sip of tea, her eyes fixed on the murky brown liquid. “Called a few other places. They all said the same thing. I need someone to co-sign.”
“Bellamy,” I say.
“Yes, Dane. I’ll accept your help, but only because I have no other choice.”
“It doesn’t make you any less brave or any less resourceful,” I remind her.
“My father pulled me aside last night after dinner.” She places the mug on the edge of my desk and only then do I notice she’s trembling. “He told me he suspects that my sister has lost her innocence and that his only option is to send her off to marry a virtuous man who can lead her back to the path of righteousness.”
My eyes flick to the ceiling and back. It sounds exactly like something one of the church elders back at the compound would say.
“He knows of a man in South Dakota with five other wives. He’s a wealthy man with a penchant for correcting women who’ve strayed a bit from their paths. He and my father have been speaking for a few weeks now, and my father is absolutely convinced that this is the only option he has to save my sister.” Her bottom lip quivers. “She’s eighteen, Dane.”
“Now. It happens now. Go get her. Bring her back. You two are living with me until further notice.” I rise, but Bellamy doesn’t move.
“I’m supposed to drive her to South Dakota sometime this week. I don’t know when, but my father made it clear that he expects me to drop everything the second he gives me the go ahead.” She shakes her head. “It was so hard to sit there and act like I agreed with everything he was saying. I know it was all an act, but I still feel sick about it.”
“Perfect.” I step to the front of my desk. “As soon as your father tells you to drive her to South Dakota, you’ll bring her to Golden Oak instead.”
“She won’t go without Jensen.”
“Jensen?”
“Our stepbrother. Kind of.” Her pale eyes wince. “He’s my father’s third wife’s oldest son from another man. I’m pretty sure they’re in love.”
I’m not one to judge the personal lives of others. “Then he can come too.”
“Are you sure?”
I smirk. “Are you surprised that the tin man actually has a heart?”
“Not at all.” Her eyes light. “Do you have an extra car in your fleet? One I could park at a shop for a few days?”
“Of course. What are you thinking?”
She sits up straight. “I could leave it at my uncle’s shop, where Jensen works. I’ll tell my cousin that if he comes in there looking for me or my sister, to hand him the keys and tell him to press the HOME button on the GPS. It’ll bring him to Waverly. I love my sister dearly, but if she so much as thought about going back for him and risking throwing away all my efforts, I’d have to kill her. This’ll prevent that from happening.”
“Smart girl.”
“Okay.” Bellamy stands, reaching for her mug. The color’s begun to return to her face along with a bit of hope in her eyes. “So now we wait for my father to give me the go-ahead.”
“You’ll call me when you’re on your way,” I say. “I’ll pick you two up in the parking garage. You can leave her car there. I’ll have it towed.”
“We’re doing this.” The woman can’t help but smile.
“You worry about getting your sister here. I’ll handle everything else,” I fold my arms, watching her saunter toward the door. I promised to take care of her the first week we met.
I can’t help that I’m a man of my word.
THIRTY-FOUR
BELLAMY
Jensen and Waverly snuck out of the house last night. No one noticed until neither of them showed up to breakfast.
Then all hell broke loose. My father wasted no time springing his plan into action.
Jensen’s truck pulled up about an hour after breakfast, and the house went eerily quiet for a brief moment, like the calm before a storm. I step away the second their footsteps tread down the foyer as I’m unwilling to witness any of what’s about to happen.
“You’re endangering your virtue, Waverly. You need to be controlled. If I can’t control you, then…” My father’s voice booms from the dining room as I wait around the corner. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Not yet.”
My poor sister.
“Your marriage has been arranged. Your husband has been chosen for you.” I hear a pound, which is likely my father’s fist against the table.
“No!” Waverly sobs.
“Waverly, this is enough. You need to keep sweet and know that I am doing what’s best for you.” His voice is softer now, as if that could possibly get her to calm down. He’s just delivered the ultimate blow, knocking down everything she’s ever wanted with a handful of words and the promise of her worst nightmare.
“I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t. I can’t marry someone. Let me graduate from college first.” Her frantic pleas break my heart and renew my sense of purpose all at once. “I’m supposed to go to Utah. You said if-if I get a scholarship, I could go. I don’t want to get married yet, I—”
“The decision has been made. Bellamy will drive you. You’re to pack immediately. Your car is fueled and ready for the drive.”
On cue, I step out from around the corner, wearing a blank expression to protect this intricately laid plan.
“You fucking traitor,” Waverly points a finger at me and then braces herself for a slap that never comes. It’s a shock, really, because I’m not sure the word “fucking” has ever been spoken to Mark Miller by one of his offspring before.
My father looks to me, and I deliver the scripted lines he gave me earlier when he was sure she’d need my encouragement to help understand this insane situation.
“I’m sorry, Waverly,” I say, my arms folded and my demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will. This is for the best. It won’t be so bad.”
Dad nods at me then tells my sister to head upstairs to pack. My mother follows after, not to help, but to ensure it’s done in a timely manner. I give them ten minutes before slipping in the room and telling them it’s time to go.
I load her bag in the trunk of her Jetta and head toward the interstate. After a solid half hour of silence, I finally break it to her.
“I’m on your side you know.” I glance over at her. She’s flattened against the window with a wicked scowl on her face.
Not that I blame her.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I add after she refuses to speak. “You have to trust me.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever trust you again.”
When I merge onto a westbound exit ramp, Waverly sits up.
“I thought we were going to South Dakota.” Her words come out slowly as she gives me the side eye. “You’re going west.”
“I told you. Trust me.”
I take the exit to downtown SLC and glide down the familiar streets that lead to Townsend Tower, pulling into the basement parking garage and into a designated spot Dane had texted me that morning. I sent him a text before we left the house, when no one was looking, and he shot me back instructions to meet him here in one hour or less and to park in spot fourteen.
“Get out,” I instruct, shifting the car into park. My stomach responds with a flurry of butterflies when I spot Dane’s limo two spots down. The trunk pops, and Waverly glances in.
“Why are there two suitcases?” she asks.
I’d stuck mine in there a few days before when no one was looking. It’s mostly filled with trinkets and mementos, the only things I care to take with me from this life to my next.
Bronson steps out of the limo, walking around to open Dane’s door. I take back what I said about Clark Kent earlier. Right now I’m staring at a bona fide Superman in a three-piece suit doing his part to help save the day.
Dane checks the chrome watch on his hand and steps toward me, leaning in to graze his lips across my cheek. “You’re on time. Very good.”
“Bellamy, are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” Waverly plants her feet as Bronson transfers the bags.
I turn toward Dane, breathing in his cologne, which will forever smell like freedom to me. “This is Dane Townsend, my boss. He’s going to save us.”
***
Jensen arrives on the second day, shortly after breakfast. My sister practically pummels him over when she runs into his arms. Dane gives them space, time to acclimate, and free reign of the estate. They’ll be living here until Waverly goes to college in the fall, and much to my surprise – and hers – he’s sponsoring her at a local private college.
“How do I look?” I slip into the suite Jensen and Waverly are sharing later that night, the fabric of my evening gown gathered in my hands.
She sits up on her bed, rubbing her eyes. “Who are you?”
“Oh, stop.” I wave my hand, flicking my wrist where diamonds rest in the form of a tennis bracelet.
“Who is Dane?” Waverly asks.
I fight the smile instantly elicited by the mere mention of him. “He’s my boss.”
She arches her brows. “Just your boss?”
“It’s complicated.”
“He loves you.” She scoots back on the bed, folding her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. “That part is obvious.”
“It’s not that kind of relationship.” My smile fades, evaporating the second I heard the L-word. That word is contraband in this house. “I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a… consensual, adult relationship.”
Waverly reads me with a cockeyed smile and squinted eyes.
“Sometimes we do what we have to do in order to survive, and sometimes we surprise ourselves when we realize how far we’re willing to go to set ourselves free. Because of Dane, we get to live our lives exactly the way we want. No polygamy. No AUB. No sneaking around, hiding from the public. Our lives finally belong to us. This is freedom, Waverly. We’re finally free.”
The shower shuts off in the bathroom. Jensen will be out any minute.
“How’d you know about Jensen and me?” she asks.
“Because you look at him like he’s the greatest thing in the whole world. Amongst other things…”
Her cheeks flush deep pink, and she buries her face in her palms like I read her diary.
“It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t need to be ashamed anymore. We only get one life. If being with Jensen makes you happy, then that’s what you should do. And he’s not even technically our stepbrother if you want to get into the logistics of it.”
A voice buzzes through speakers built into the walls.
“Mademoiselle Miller?” Mathilde’s French accent cuts through the room. “The car is ready.”
“Where are you headed tonight?” Waverly takes me in from head to toe.
“I’m accompanying Dane to a private dinner party.”
“Let me see your shoes.”
I pick up the train of my midnight dress, revealing rhinestones covering the four-inch heels on my feet.
She smiles. “Gorgeous.”
I slip my arms around my sister, holding her tight.
“Have fun, Bell.” She hugs back, squeezing harder than I’ve ever been squeezed before.
I back away, gathering the silk fabric of my dress and floating out the door and down the stairs to where my date is wearing the most debonair all-black tuxedo I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Stunning.” He reaches for my hand when I get to the landing only this time he threads our fingers together.
THIRTY-FIVE
DANE
I wake next to Bellamy this morning for the second time in a row.
Our weekend was packed with rescuing and debriefing her sister, ensuring her sister’s boyfriend made it here all right, and then I whisked her away to a party thrown by one of my senator friends.
Men stared at Bellamy all night, and why wouldn’t they? A slinky black dress dripped off her curves, and she was iced in more diamonds than a De Beers heiress. She stole the show, and she never left my side once.
“I had some of your clothes transferred here,” I call to her as she struts to the bathroom.
“You really did think of everything,” she calls out over the spray of the shower a second later.
We get ready for work side by side like some ordinary, vanilla couple, and for the first time, I don’t particularly mind it.
Matter of fact, I think I could get used to this.
I stare at the strange man in the mirror and give him a wink, just to make sure he’s real because I sure as fuck don’t recognize him or his unfamiliar thoughts.
***
An email from the Crystal Swan arrives the second I get to the office. It’s automated and one that kicks in if you haven’t been by the club after a certain amount of time. It’s the first time in two years that I’ve received this email, and the only thing about my life that’s changed in those two years is the introduction of Bellamy Miller.
Within ten minutes, I’m knocking at the black door, my keycard in hand. I’m cancelling my membership today, but first, I have a bit of business to tend to.
“Welcome back, Master Townsend,” the hostess dressed in all white coos. She scans my badge and glances down at the screen. “Looks like we haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Is Jenessa in today?”
The white swan smiles. “Why, yes she is. She’s about to perform in the Hayworth Room.”
The Hayworth Room is named for the founding member of the Crystal Swan. There’s a small stage and seating for no more than eight. It’s where I first met Jenessa Dubrow, and it’s where I’ve been coming for the last two years to remind myself over and over not to make the same mistake twice.
Every time I see her, I remember.
And every time she sees me, I hope she remembers too.
I turn down the west hall and set out toward the Hayworth Room. This time of day, there’s hardly more than a handful of men sitting in on her show.
Today, it’s just me.
She sits on a barstool, center stage, dressed in all white leather with a white, feathered mask hiding her eyes. But I don’t have to see her eyes to sense the weight of her stare.
The doors close behind me, indicating it’s show time, and I take a seat directly across from her. If evil were a creature incarnate, she’d be wrapped in beautiful lies and called Jenessa.
“Haven’t seen you in weeks, Master.” She breaks her silence. It’s the first time since we ended our relationship that she’s had the gall to speak to me. Maybe the fact that we’re alone again for the first time in years gives her the nerve to try and strike up a conversation. “I missed you watching me.”
“For some reason I doubt that.” My arms fold, and I press my back against the chair. Today marks the first time in forever that I can look at her and feel nothing but numbness. The sharp bite of regret and the sting of deception suddenly feels stale.
Her fingertips trail down her backside, teasing me. “I mean it. I miss you. Despite everything.”
“Despite…everything.” I spit her words back at her, twisting them across my tongue slowly.
“You’re the only master who could ever push all the right buttons for me.” She pokes a long leg straight out, pointing her toe and dragging it back like a graceful ballerina. A feather-covered basket rests next to her. Props mostly. She glances down at them and back at me.
“No.”
Her berry lips pout, and she coils a strand of icy blonde hair around her manicured finger. “What if I begged?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why are you here?”
It’s a damn good question, but I’ll be damned if I ever give her the answer she craves.
“I’m not here because you turn me on. I’m not here because I want you back,” I say. “I’ve been coming to remind you, on a weekly basis, what a disgusting person you are.”
Her dark lips curl into a wide smile. “So you’ve been punishing me all this time?”
My jaw clenches tight.
“You should’ve told me. I may have enjoyed it a bit more.” Her words lack an ounce of remorse in their playful undertone, and I’m quite certain she’s not capable of feeling shame for any of her actions.
“You have to regret the crime to appreciate the punishment.”
“I regret a lot of things.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I never meant to hurt you.” Jenessa pulls her swan mask off, but I refuse to meet her siren gaze.
She didn’t just hurt me.
She destroyed me.
Every part of me.
“Is that an apology, because it sure as fuck doesn’t sound like one.” My jaw tenses, refusing to release.
I gave Jenessa Dubrow the part of me I’d never given a single woman in my entire adult life, and in return, she filled my head with promises and life-altering lies. I may have dominated her physically, but she dominated me emotionally and otherwise since the day she begged her way into my life.
To this day, I’m not sure how something so artificial could feel like the realest thing in the world. My entire experience with Jenessa served only to teach me that love is an illusion.
I rise, adjusting the knot of my tie and clearing my throat. “Tell Dane Junior I said hello.”
Jenessa opens her mouth to speak, but I leave the room before I have a chance to hear her out.
What she did was unforgivable.
Fucking me, worshipping my mind, body, and soul, and then declaring that she was carrying my child when all along it belonged to her fucking husband. The only man who truly dominated her and the only man to whom she ever truly belonged. It was all an act. A ruse. A way of manipulating a man with more money than God to cough up enough coinage to keep them living in the lap of luxury until the child was five months old.
Five whole fucking months I had a son. They even went so far as to name him after me.
Jenessa may have obliterated my happiness in the past, but I’ll be fucking damned if I let her steal my happiness in the future.
I storm out of the Hayworth Room and pass the membership office, grabbing a cancellation packet.
But before I head back to work, I make one more stop.
