by Rebel Rose
“Can you please just shut the fuck up and get out, Claudia.”
“I want—”
“I don’t give a goddamn what you want.” I dash across the floor and grab Claudia’s upper arm, pulling her out of my bed and pushing her to the door.
“Please don’t throw me out, Tristan.”
“I wouldn’t have to throw you out if you’d fucking listen to what I’m telling you.”
I open the door and shove her into the hallway. “Find a Dom or don’t. You have three days to find somewhere else to go. I’m done playing host to you.”
“Tristan—”
I slam the door in her face and lock it. Dammit, Claudia may have really fucked things up between Emma Lia and me. Which is exactly what she wants.
How do I fix this with mon bebelle? How do I make her believe me when I explain what really happened?
I have no idea, but here goes.
11
Emma Lia Grant
What a motherfucker.
I can’t believe that he had Claudia in his bedroom. And right next to my bedroom of all places. If he wanted to fuck her, he could have at least done it in her bedroom.
I want to yank every hair out of that bitch’s head, but even more I want to twist Tristan’s balls until they separate from his body.
Fury and resentment swirl inside me, scorching every fiber within my body, but mostly the ones in the center of my chest. Which is so fucking stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. I shouldn’t feel anything but hatred for this man. He’s my captor. My blackmailer. My Dominant. He enjoys using me and fucking me and hurting me.
He spent the last week telling me that I was his. And I spent the week warming up to the idea. I was growing fond of him. I felt a connection growing between us. I was even beginning to feel like I actually could be his. But that’s what a good Dominant does, right? He convinces a submissive that she belongs to him.
I’m jealous of him being with another woman. And it’s absurd. To feel any kind of attachment to the man who is blackmailing me into sex is the stupidest thing that I’ve ever done in my life. But I’m also fucking pissed as hell too; he’s putting my health at risk by fucking someone else.
I feel so ignorant for thinking that I was the only woman in his life. I feel foolish for caring that I’m not.
I have to get out of here.
I’ve made all of three steps toward the closet when Tristan comes into my room. “Bebelle…” I ignore him, and he follows me into the closet. “Bebelle…”
“I am not your doll, so don’t call me that anymore.” I wish he hadn’t given me that endearing name. It’s only made me bend more easily to his will.
“You will always be my doll.”
My eyes sting and that pisses me off. I can’t cry over this motherfucker. “I’m no one’s toy to play with, Tristan.”
“Will you please stop and listen to me?”
“No. The quicker I change clothes, the quicker I can be out of here and be on my way home.”
“You aren’t leaving,” he says.
I whirl around to face him. “Are you going to hold me captive again?”
“I’m going to do what I must to keep you here while I explain.”
“I don’t want to hear your lies.”
Tristan wraps his arms around my waist and hoists me over his shoulder, carrying me to the bed and tossing me in the middle. He crawls over me and restrains my wrists above my head. “You’re going to listen to me whether you want to or not.”
“Wanna bet, motherfucker?”
He doesn’t even make an attempt to block my knee when it collides with his groin.
“Oooh… fuuuck.” He instantly rolls off of me into the fetal position. “Ugggh!”
I scramble away from him on the bed. “Fuck you, Tristan Broussard. Fuck. You.”
I dash into the closet and yank my gown over my head. I pull on the first shirt that I reach, followed by a pair of jeans. No bra. No time for that.
I’m pushing my foot into a sneaker when Tristan bear-hugs me from behind and carries me to the bed again, repeating the same process except this time I’m tossed onto the bed facedown. “I told you that you’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to.”
I fight but it’s no use in this position. I’m pinned against the bed. And he has me.
“You’re out of your mind if you expect me to stay after this.”
He grabs the back of my neck and pushes me down against the mattress so hard that I don’t have a chance in hell of freeing myself of his hold. “I didn’t fuck Claudia.”
“You were naked, and your dick was hard. I saw it so don’t try to pull that shit on me.” It kills me to have seen the proof of his desire for her, but I’m glad that I did. It’s a real wake-up call.
“I was naked and hard because she came into my bedroom through the doorway between our rooms in the dark. I swear to God that I thought it was you coming to me. And that’s exactly what she wanted—to make me believe that it was you in my bed. Did you see what she wearing? It was a piece of your lingerie. The one with ruffles. The one you wore on vanilla night. She knows that I’d feel that in the dark and never suspect it was her. Because she doesn’t own anything sweet and innocent like it.”
Shit. She was wearing my silk ruffled gown.
“The lamp was on.”
“I turned it on when I realized that she wasn’t you.”
“How did you know that it wasn’t me?”
“I felt her implants and knew they weren’t your breasts.”
That makes me nauseous. “Great. You were touching her breasts.”
“Only because I thought she was you.”
“What else did you do with her?”
“We kissed. And almost fucked. Almost. But we didn’t.”
Claudia is desperate, and she’s hopelessly in love with Tristan. That much I know for certain. I can totally see her sneaking into his bed and pretending to be me if it meant she could have him again.
“I believe you.”
He releases his hold on my neck and wrists. “I’m going to let you up, but you’d better not kick me in my balls again.”
I turn over and sit up so that we’re facing one another. “I’m sorry that I kneed you.”
“Please don’t ever do that again.”
I don’t say anything because at this point, I’m making no promises as long as that bitch is here. “Claudia has been making problems between us since I moved in, and I’m sick of it. She has to go.”
The expression on Tristan’s face instantly changes. “You seem to be confused about the dynamics of my place as your Dom. I’m in control, and I make the decisions. You aren’t my girlfriend, and you aren’t my wife. You are my submissive, and you don’t ever get to make demands. I do what I want, when I want, and I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. I don’t take orders from you. I’ve known Claudia a hell of a lot longer than I’ve known you, and she will stay until I decide that she goes.”
Wow. That stings a lot more than it should. “I think that we should end this relationship, and I should leave.”
“We will if that’s what you want, but understand this: if you leave, you’re going to jail.”
“I won’t be the only one, buddy. Your crimes against me exceed my little bit of casino cheating.”
“Prove it.”
I look at him, saying nothing; we both know I have no evidence of his wrongdoings.
“That’s right. You can’t prove anything.
He grabs my wrist when I get up, but I yank it from his grip. “Please leave my room.”
I’m here because Tristan Broussard is blackmailing me. Somewhere along the way I seem to have forgotten what he is and what he’s doing to me. But no more. He just gave me the perfect reminder of what kind of bastard he really is. And I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.
I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to do this anymore. That key is my ticket to freedom. I have to pull it soon, get the fuck out of h
ere, and never see Tristan Broussard again.
And forget that all of this ever happened.
It’s been three days since my fight with Tristan. I’ve avoided him; I’m so pissed off and hurt that I don’t even want to look at him. And apparently, he must feel the same since he hasn’t come to me. But not seeing him—and not fucking him—isn’t at all beneficial for me. Staying away from him may satisfy my need to lick my wounds in private, but it doesn’t bring me any closer to gaining my freedom.
I don’t want to be the one to give in and seek him out, but I want the hell out of here more than I want my pride to remain intact. Sulking around in my bedroom isn’t doing anything but extending my stay.
There’s a knock at my bedroom door, and I already know that it’s Ray bringing in my dinner tray. “Good evening, miss.”
“Hey, Ray.”
He slightly lifts the tray. “Same place?”
“The bed is fine.”
He places the tray on the foot of my bed and lifts the cover. “Crawfish-stuffed catfish with a Cajun cream sauce. I must warn you: it’ll clear your sinuses.”
“I’m not worried. Everything you cook is delicious.”
“Thank you, miss. It’s nice to prepare meals for someone who is appreciative of my culinary skills.”
“Tristan is highly appreciative of your cooking.” I can’t believe that Ray would think otherwise.
“I’m referring to Claudia.”
“She doesn’t like your cooking?”
“She’s very critical and often offers advice on how I can improve.”
Why does that not surprise me?
“Well, that’s ridiculous. You are magnificent and need no one’s advice. Don’t listen to that cunt.” I look up at Ray. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something so vulgar to you.”
“She is a cunt, and I look forward to her departure. A year is a long time to put up with her.”
I can’t stop myself from laughing at Ray. “Well, you shouldn’t be expecting her departure anytime soon. Tristan plans on letting her stay as long as she likes. He was quite clear about it.”
“I thought that Mr. Broussard would be eager for her to leave now that you’re here.”
I smile, shaking my head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Well, that’s extremely disappointing.”
“It is indeed.”
“Mr. Broussard has been… we’ll call it easily irritated since you stopped joining him for dinner.”
“Good.” I’m glad that his balls are chafed, but he shouldn’t be salty to Ray because of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that I’m happy he’s being short-tempered with you.”
“I understand your meaning.”
“Is Mr. Broussard taking dinner in the dining room tonight?”
“No, miss. He asked me to hold his dinner while he finalizes some business in his office.”
In his office—right next to the keys. Perfect. I can slip in, do what I gotta do, pull my key, and get the hell out.
“Is there anything else that I can get for you?” Ray asks.
“Can’t think of a thing.”
“All right, miss. Enjoy.”
My dignity and appetite vanish and are replaced by nausea as I mentally prepare myself for what I must do if I’m to be free of Tristan Broussard’s hold over me.
I don’t knock. I don’t speak. I simply enter Tristan’s office, shutting the door behind me, and make my way around his desk to where he’s sitting in his chair. His eyes widen and one brow lifts. He leans back in his chair and the corners of his mouth tug upward, but only slightly.
I lower myself to the floor, kneeling before him, and position myself between his thick, muscular thighs. Normally I would glide my palms up his legs, teasing him and giving him time to become fully erect. But not this time. I want this to be over and done so I can pull my key.
I tug at the button on his trousers and then lower the zipper. Untucking his button-down, I shove it upward to his waist. His hardening cock jumps out of his boxer briefs when I pull down the elastic waistband.
I keep my head down, never making eye contact with him. That’s what he likes in his submissive, but I choose to keep my eyes lowered because I can’t bear to see an ounce of satisfaction on his face.
I tilt my head to the side, forming a curtain with my hair over one shoulder. I want him to watch. He loves the sight of his cock in my mouth, and it’ll get him off faster.
I hold the base and forgo the licking and teasing that I would normally do. I simply open and take him into my mouth. Breath hisses between his gritted teeth, and he pushes his fingers into my hair, cradling the back of my head. His head drops back to rest against his chair and he lifts his hips a little to thrust into my mouth. “Take it in all the way.”
I breathe deeply and mentally turn off my gag reflex when I lower my mouth down the length of his shaft until the tip hits the back of my throat. The taste of salty pre-cum fills my mouth. “Oh, that’s it, bebelle. Just like that.”
Bebelle. Hearing him call me doll makes me want to stop and slap the shit out of him. I am not his bebelle. If he really thinks of me as his doll, he wouldn’t have spoken to me the way he did. And he wouldn’t have chosen her over me.
I hate doing this for him. I hate bringing him pleasure when he has treated me as though I don’t matter. And if it’s an empty body without feelings that he wants, then that’s what the fuck he’s going to get.
I close my eyes and turn off every feeling and emotion inside me. The anger, the sadness, the disappointment—I bury all of it so deep that it’ll never see the light of day again. I become a robot, using my body only as a vessel for earning my next key.
“Fuck, you’re good at sucking me off.”
Good. Maybe that means he’s about to come and this can be over.
I flatten my tongue and move with him, taking his cock over and over, the swollen head hitting the back of my throat. I take a quick breath and wrap my hand around his base, stroking and squeezing his length every time he slides in and out of my mouth. Saliva drips down his length and on top of my hand, making it slide up and down his cock with ease.
He plunges into my mouth faster, thrusting so hard that I make that terrible gagging sound that he loves so much. His gentle hold on the back of my head transitions into his hand fisting my hair.
My jaws, my neck, my knees—all of them are aching. I’m ready for this to be over so I tighten my hand around his dick and suck harder.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.”
He pushes himself deep, and I feel the warm jets of cum hitting the back of my throat. “Swallow all of it.”
He pulls out of my mouth following the last spasm and reaches for my hands, pulling me to stand. His eyes connect with mine, and I see the happiness that was there prior to three days ago. But it doesn’t make me forget the things that he said to me.
“I’ve missed you, bebelle.”
He cradles the sides of my face and leans in to kiss my mouth, but I pull away. “I’d like to pull my key.”
His subtle smile vanishes. “That’s what this was about?”
“You were very clear about what I am to you and what I am not. What else could this have possibly been about?”
He drops his hands from my face as though I’ve burned him. “I thought that you’d come to make up.”
No. He thought that I’d come to grovel.
“This was about earning a key. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“All right.” He steps away and moves toward the cabinet. “You earned it.”
Same as last time, he removes the box and places it on his desk. I finger several keys and silently pray for my fingers to find the key that will unlock that padlock.
I remove one from the box and hold it out in the palm of my hand. “This one.”
He hesitates, looking at the key in my hand for a moment before taking it. “Feeling lucky?”
“I’ll tell you after you try the key in the lock.
”
He pushes it in and turns. And nothing happens.
“No. I don’t feel lucky at all.”
I turn without another word and leave his office, running the statistics in my head as I walk to my bedroom. Twelve percent of the keys are gone. My odds are slowly swinging more in my favor. Every key pulled puts me one step closer to freedom. I just have to hang in there a little longer.
12
Tristan Broussard
I wanted to go to Emma Lia’s room last night. I wanted to make things okay with her. But I couldn’t do it. I’m a Dom. I can’t bend for her. Not again. I’ve already bent more than I ever should have. She is my submissive, and she needs to understand what that means.
It’s been twenty-four hours since she came into my office and sucked me off. And fuck, I can’t believe how badly I want to see her again. I’m sitting in my office pretending to work because I’m hoping that she’ll pay me another visit tonight.
I sit patiently, and she doesn’t disappoint.
Same as last night, she enters my office without knocking and closes the door. Not saying a word, she rounds my desk and bends over it. Her hands grasp the back of her dress and she pulls it upward, exposing her naked ass and pussy.
Feels like every drop of blood in my veins rushes to my cock, making me hard in record time. But truth be told, I was already semi-hard thinking—and hoping—she’d come to me again.
“Look at me.”
She shakes her head and says nothing.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, bebelle.”
Her head lowers, and her palms flatten on the top of my desk. “This is the position that you like best.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
She still doesn’t look at me. “I’m here to be your submissive, fulfill my part of our agreement, and earn my key. That’s all.”
I hate the defeat and emptiness that I hear in her voice. I’d prefer that she fight instead of seeming as though she couldn’t care less.
I place my hand on the back of her thigh and caress it up her leg. “I don’t want it to be like this, bebelle.”