The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3)

by Palmer, Dee

  “Okaay.” I say slowly, “and you’re not giving it to him because it’s intrusive, an invasion of my privacy or just that it’s weird . . . Any or all of the above really Anthony?” I offer.

  He bursts out a short laugh. “Everything between you two is weird but no, I mean yes. I am going to give it to him. Don’t look so shocked, Joe pulled a knife on him! He’s got leverage. Beside you don’t have to serve him, the worst he can do is what? Order some great food and not get served by my best waitress.” I snort at his attempt to flatter. He tips his head, excusing me and effectively finishing all further discussion. “Oh Bethany?” I turn and see he is grinning. “Maybe try and keep a lid on the restaurant rage from now on?” I smile tightly, fuming as I shut his door with a little more force than was necessary.

  I finish the rest of my shift in a complete state of confusion. I don’t know whether to be mad that Daniel is infiltrating my life again, after I had barely started to come to terms with his exit, or be pleased by it. My stomach is tied in knots and I know I can’t think straight when he is near. That has always been the case but it’s made so much worse by my shocking lack of control. I don’t believe anything has changed so I don’t really know what he wants from me. This is so fucked up I can’t think straight and I can’t even ask my best friend for advice, yet. I just have to keep my distance, difficult if he shows up at work every day; not impossible, just difficult.

  I thank Joe again for his help and he laughs telling me it was fun and I admit Angel did look like she was about to shit herself and that was funny. I am still laughing as I open the back door and slip my pale denim jacket over my shoulders. I stumble to a stop when I see Daniel leaning against his Bentley, loose fitted jeans, a fitted pale blue button up shirt and casual deck shoes that show a hint of his tanned skin in lieu of socks. His dark hair is a little too long to style but it flops with a rough sexy quality. Like my fingers have just pulled it just so in the heat of a passionate exchange. Dammit I can feel a liquid heat burning deep inside and I tense to stop my legs from squeezing together, because I know he is staring. Just waiting for such a blatant display of the arousal he evokes.

  He pushes off the side of his car and holds out the single white avalanche rose for me to take. I just look at the beautiful flower, full open petals and a subtle sweet fragrance, strong even from just one flower. I keep my hands at my side, fighting my ingrain manors to accept such a pretty gift. “An olive branch?” His voice is tempered softness. I arch a suspicious brow and he chuckles. “Where’s the trust Bethany? After all you did kick me out and I’m the one standing making an apology.” He opens his arms wide, almost as wide and seductive as his smile. I fold my arms over my middle and stand my ground.

  “Tell me, why are you apologising? You never apologise.” My quip full of attitude.

  “Exactly, so you must take my offering as sincere. Several reasons actually. I am sorry for you loosing your job, never my intention. I am sorry for bringing Angel here, I would never had I known but mostly I’m sorry for letting you go. I am unbelievably sorry for that.” He steps toward me and I am frozen to the spot by his utterly unexpected declaration.

  I shake my head like I hadn’t just heard what he said and look in to his clear blue sparkling eyes, smiling and sure. “What’s changed?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

  He traces his the back of his fingers along my cheek and I curse myself for leaning into his touch. “I realised I made a mistake, rare I know, but apparently I do make them.” His light tone does nothing to stop my fear being realised.

  “No Daniel, I mean what has actually changed?” I take his fingers that are cupped against my jaw and gently push them from my touch.

  He coughs and straightens. “Nothing has changed, but I want you back so we will sort this out.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Do I look like a Mormon?” I step back shaking my head incredulously.

  “Angel is happily married Bethany, for Christ sake why can’t you trust me.” His jaw is ticking and although his voice is still calm I can see he is reining in his temper, I don’t share his restraint.

  “Oh My God, this is not about trust it’s about the fucking obvious. If she’s so happily married where’s her fucking husband? Why is she draped all over you every time I see her? Why does she look at me like I’m a clueless irritant and why can’t you see any of this?” I twist away from his body. Stiff and angry as his body appears, it still generates serious heat in mine.

  “If I felt for a moment any of this was important I might give it a seconds thought, but I don’t. I will say, her husband is flying in this weekend, his work keeps him away, but that’s an end to it. I have made my position as clear as I can but I can see you will need some persuading.” He steps and sweeps his arm around my waist pulling me tight against his firm unyielding body. Leaning in he strokes his nose from my collar bone to my ear and whispers. “Which I will enjoy immensely.” I again curse my stupid body for shivering at his words causing a deep appreciative rumbling hum in his chest. I wait limp until he releases me to stand on my own, still only inches from me.

  “If that’s all?” I exhale trying to feign indifference even if all my nerves are tingling with promise. “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” I narrow my eyes but he looks confused. “You have my schedule for some other reason?” I query.

  He nods. “Tony told you?” He smiles a thin lipped response in acknowledgment. “Then yes, I will see you tomorrow.” He draws in a deep breath which perversely prevents me from walking away, expectant for more and I’m not disappointed just wholly shocked. “So do you want to go back to the flat or would you prefer the back of the car?” His silky smooth voice fails to hide his lust filled request.

  “Eh. . Excuse me?” I stutter, pleased I managed any words at all.

  “Your punishment.” He speaks slowly as if I am a small child and at this moment I do feel a bit ‘special’ in that department. “I assume you would prefer some privacy?” He smirks when he continues, “I have no objection to over the knee right here but—”

  “No!” I shout and then snarl a whisper. “You can’t be fucking serious? You think you are going to punish me?” Even as my indignant words leave my mouth with righteous outrage, they fall flat as my core heats and liquefies.

  “Oh I know I’m going to punish you. I have never been spoken to the way you did this afternoon. No one has ever been that rude.” His face is stern, not a hint of amusement or irony.

  I snort lightly. “Maybe not to your face.” He pulls me tight once more and I can feel his steel hard erection firm against my thigh, heat pulsing from him directly into my veins.

  “Oh Bethany, keep it up baby and we’ll go right here. Your whole body is thrumming; it would be a crime to deny this.” He drags his fingernails against my scalp and grabs a handful of hair sending electrical shots across my skin to my core.

  I gasp. “This isn’t fair.” His eyes pierce me, liquid lust and fire, his lips brush mine and I tremble from tip to toe.

  He laughs against my mouth, withholding the soft sweet taste and a small whimper escapes my throat. “I never said I was going to be fair, you know me Bethany I plan to do whatever it takes. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that I will be anything but fair. When it comes to you I plan on being downright dirty.” His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open a little, my tongue peeking to taste his. He groans and swoops in forcing my mouth to accept the invasion. Taking deep swirling plunges, tasting and taking, my heartbeat races and I am instantly breathless. His strong arms holding me firm, secure and preventing my body pooling on the pavement. He breaks the kiss and I mourn the loss, I am comforted he seems just as breathless. “The car, I’ll never make it to the flat.” He stoops to pick up my bag I had dropped somewhere along the way and then stoops again to pick me up as my body doesn’t seem to want to respond to any of my commands but is more than happy to succumb to his.

  He pulls me to sit beside him but as the car pulls away he takes my wri
st and positions me across his legs that are bent at the knees and clamped together. I can feel his hardness throbbing against my hip, twitching to join in but confined to its denim prison. He smoothes my skirt over my bottom, slow sweeping movements, rubbing with no pressure at all. His fingertips curl under the hem and he lifts, rolling the material over the round curve of my bottom. We both Inhale sharply as my pale skin is revealed, remnants of my panties still in the pedestal bin in the restaurant toilet. “Ah fuck Bethany, you are perfect. You know you were made for me.” He coughs and his soft voice is replaced with a sterner, authoritative tone. “Thirty and I want you to count and I don’t want you to come.”

  “Then don’t stick your fingers anywhere near me because I can’t make any promises, the way my body is at the moment I have no fucking control.” My breathless voice is needy and the mounting pressure is already causing my toes to curl.

  “Mmmm I know. Like I said, perfect.” He traces one long finger down the bottom of my spine and continues down the crack to my soaking centre and I buck my hips and bite down a scream, my legs shaking and rapid pants try to calm my clenching muscles. “Shit! You weren’t joking. This is extreme responsiveness, sexy as hell but shit, what’s got your body all keyed up like this?” I have mixed feelings as he removes his finger and my body quietens and I pray he is not really a mind reader because I know exactly why my body is in horny teenager mode. It may not have been on the literature Dr Ward gave me but ‘possible increases in libido’ certainly came up when I google searched pregnancy symptoms. Strike possible and underline definite . . . I shake my head.

  “I have no idea but if it’s a problem we can stop this.” One arm presses down on my shoulders pinning me in place while his other resumes the soft seductive strokes over my bottom and the back of my thighs.

  “You want me to stop?” His hand slows and my head shakes of its own volition.

  “No. Please, I don’t want you to stop.” I can hear the shake in my voice, my emotions maybe all over the place but my body reads like an open book. Right now it’s chapter one, ‘BDSM for dummies; pain and pleasure. The sting of his palm.’ “Arhhh!!” I exhale and absorb the fire and burn that races through my body. “One.” Again and again in quick succession, I count, he strikes, I count, he strikes and I writhe. He holds me firm but as my counting is coming to an end my need to come is unbearable and I can feel prickles as tears sting the corners of my eyes. My body glows with a slick sheen of perspiration but I shiver all over and I can’t seem to draw enough breath with my shallow panting. He strikes one last time and gently lifts me up, my eyes roll as the blood rushes from my head and my whole body trembles. “Thank you.” I gasp. I’m a wreck.

  He picks me up and holds me cradled in his arms, every nerve, every cell is super sensitive and screaming for release. He squeezes tighter but I can’t stop shaking. “Oh poor baby, here let me help.” He shifts so I am sideways, my back resting on the seat of the car, still holding me tight. His body half covering mine he takes his other hand, gently cups between my legs and presses lightly with the pad of his thumb on my nub of needy nerves. I cry, gasp, convulse and press my face into his chest because I want to scream, it feels so good, so much, too much. Wave after wave of rolling pleasure ebbing as he so gently brings me back to earth. He holds me, stroking my hair and kissing me lightly. So much for keeping my distance, I am going to need a much better plan. Perhaps a body guard or maybe a chastity belt . . . a little late for that. Besides the way I’m feeling I would’ve picked the lock before the key was pocketed. I think my plan for travel is my best option. Some real physical distance before I resort to begging Daniel to be my sex slave, or more likely that I’m begging him to become his sex slave.

  I can feel the car has stopped and my eyelids flutter open. I sense the intensity of his gaze before my eyes meet his, steely dark and possessive, still urgent and hungry. He shifts and I use the movement to slide to his side. He still has his arms around me but he is rock hard and trying to get comfortable. I bite my cheek to stop my tongue from licking my lips at the thought of his taste in my mouth; my damn body is going to be the death of me. I wriggle and pull my skirt into place, straighten my blouse and check my hair in the reflective glass of the car window. Yes . . . wild, with that just fucked look, perfect. I reach to open the door but he moves with me and holds my hand over the handle.

  “Stay with me tonight?” His soft voice is thick with desire but the edge of uncertainty makes my chest ache and recoil like a fully body punch in the solar plexus. I know my voice would betray me so I shake my head once and push the handle down and step from the car. He is still holding my hand and he looks from his hand to my face, a dazzling smile spreads slowly. “I want you Bethany. Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t want the same thing I do?”

  “It’s not about what I want.” My voice is soft and with every fibre of strength I am fighting the need to throw myself back in to the car and back into his fucked up life but I don’t. I can’t.

  He chuckles and his grin is assuredly cocky. “Baby, what you want, what I want, it’s the same damn thing and that is the only thing that matters.”

  “Not any more.” My soft words cause a brief frown on is perfect face but I turn and scamper to the safety of my flat, feeling the relief of prey escaping its natural predator. Physical distance . . . my only hope of survival.

  The next day he called my mobile, seeing his caller id I swiped reject. He called again and again. My short walk to work was peppered with call reject moments until after a short respite I took a call from a different number.

  “Good Morning Bethany.” I could hear the smile in his voice, I just hoped he couldn’t hear the smile in mine.

  “Good Morning Daniel, nice trick but you know I’m just going to add this to my address book and I won’t pick up next time.” I sound decidedly smug. I love technology, sometimes.

  “Good to know.” He sounds unperturbed by this and continues to chat about everything and nothing. He makes me laugh and I find I have reached the restaurant for work without noticing the journey. I am just about to inform him that I have to go when his voice drops and I am hovering, still outside the back door waiting for his next words. “Bethany . . . I miss starting my day inside you.” His words are like a hot wire to my clit and he chuckles to hear my intake of breath. Fuck I do not need to start the day like this and I can’t risk continuing this conversation because I know first-hand how effective his aural skills can be; so I hang up.

  One step from the kitchen into the restaurant and I feel him. Sure enough, he is sitting in the same booth he was yesterday. He only smiles sweetly, his eyes kind and warm, crinkly all the way in the corners while he chats on the phone. My whole shift I avoid his table but he seems happy just to sit, work and eat. He even holds a few meetings much to the confusion of his PA Colin and some other employees that have been dragged across town. It is a lot of effort considering he hasn’t even spoken to me and if I am honest it is pretty flattering if completely impractical, crazy and unsustainable. Still if that’s the worst he can do, as Tony said, it’s not so bad. I finish my shift and find him waiting by his car, white rose in hand. Today I graciously accept it because he looks so cute and his smile is genuine and heart stopping.

  “Would you like a lift?” He holds the door open and I laugh shaking my head.

  “Thank you but I’ll be safer walking.” I slip my shoulder bag over my head and fish my ear phones out of my pocket.

  “Possibly, although you looked a little flustered this morning when you arrived. Maybe walking isn’t so safe after all?” He starts to walk toward me and I clench my thighs at the rising heat. It’s a subtle movement but it doesn’t go unnoticed. “I might be able to help with that?” He raises a cheeky eyebrow, his hands slip to my waist and slide to my hips exerting pressure that is echoed rumbling at the base of my spine. A noise which is a mixture of squeak and groan escapes into my closed mouth and he purses his lips trying not to laugh. I am grateful for thes
e flashes of arrogance because they are enough to ground me even as my body violently screams; ‘what the hell, just do it already.’ The traitor that it is. I step back and turn calling over my shoulder.

  “I don’t doubt that for a moment but so can B.O.B.” I don’t turn to check but I’m pretty sure he is scowling. I can’t imagine he would be a fan of battery boyfriend but my body is so easily charged these days, I am starting to think I should perhaps start carrying a BOB junior all the damn time. A new essential, like one of my five a day. My phone rings and I pick up seeing a local code.

  “That wasn’t very polite.” His gravelly voice, unexpected and potent sends a chill across my skin. It’s exhausting the reactions he draws from my body. His voice alone instantaneously has me on high alert and erotically receptive. The latent threat of his tone makes my mouth dry and my panties wet. I glance furtively over my shoulder half expecting his car to be crawling behind me but I relax when there is nothing but a solid line of black cabs. Since he has no qualms about exploiting his effect on me I may as well take some pleasure of my own, on my own.

  “No sir, it wasn’t. Now what do you plan on doing about it?” I feel so much power in the moment I am breathless with it, well that and my increase in walking pace. I am nearly home and I kind of hope he wants to play. I hear him groan.

  “Mmm what shall I do?” He sighs and is quite on the line. I can barely hear him breathing. “Are you home?”

  “Nearly . . . five minutes.” I am dodging pedestrians eager to reach my goal, both my goals.

  “Good. Go to your room, strip to your panties and lie on the bed. I will call you in ten minutes put me on speaker. You will need your hands.” He hangs up and I break into a jog. Oh good! He is going to play.

  Lying quietly still for ten minutes has done nothing to calm my racing heart and nervous anticipation. I know I have removed the camera and I could be doing the washing up right now for all he knows but I still feel strangely compelled to obey his commands. I crave his punishment and I want to please him. I am struggling to believe these changes I am suffering are a result of what can’t be much more than a tiny bundle of cells at this stage. I take a moment to do a mental check that it isn’t just all in my head. My senses are ultra-sensitive, smell, taste, when I do manage to stomach food. Sight and hearing not so much, tired? Yes, emotional? Yes, raging hormones? Um yes . . . I am, after all, lying half naked waiting for some phone relief from a man I am not seeing but I can’t seem to resist. That has to be a result of altered brain function as well as hormones. What about sore breasts? I lift my hands and cup myself. I know for health reasons I should but this is not something I do on a regular basis so I don’t know. Yes they feel delicate but is that normal? When Daniel does it, it feels amazing, sensitive and sometimes painful but always incredible. It is like when a doctor presses on a place you’ve never pressed before and asks if it hurts; well yes but would it normally? I don’t know because I don’t go round pressing myself or fondling my breasts so I have no frame of reference.