ARROGANT MASTER (18 page)

“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.

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.