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Authors: Winter Renshaw

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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 me 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.

 

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