by Dee Palmer
I’m dressed but with no panties and sitting on the corner sofa in the lounge with my legs tucked beneath me, holding a glass of golden liquid, Cointreau over ice. It burns and warms.
“This fun has some rules, Bethany.” His serious tone piques my interest.
“Go on.” I swirl the golden liquid, my lips curling with amusement.
“I believe I mentioned I don’t share, and you can expect a reciprocal arrangement, although you wouldn’t ask because that might give away your feigned indifference?” He cocks a brow, but I respond by taking another sip of my drink. “No lies. I don’t expect full disclosure, but if I ask you something, I don’t want you to lie. There will be no boundaries in the bedroom.” My eyes widen at the implications of that statement “But you trust me, and it is only ever about pleasure with us,so that won’t be an issue, and I want you to take some birth-control, because I don’t want to wear a condom with you. I fucking hate condoms.” His recited list sounds more like points of action at a board meeting.
“Please?” I say seriously but have to bite my lips to keep up the façade.
“Excuse me?” His face shows utter astonishment. It’s funny.
“I want you to take some birth control…please?” I slowly emphasize the ‘please’.
“Bethany.” He rumbles, his jaw tense. “I would like you to take some birth control,” He leans in to my ear and whispers, “please.” Shivers ripple over my body, and I lean into his warmth. He stands and takes my hand. It’s time to leave.
He drives me home and escorts me to my door where he folds me in his arms, his head resting on mine.
“I’ve had a wonderful evening, Daniel; mind blowing.” I add and he laughs.
“I can’t promise not to fall in love with you, Miss Thorne, but if you can promise not to fall in love with me, we will be safe having fun. By your definition, then it can only be you that does the leaving. And, Bethany,”--he looks deep into my eyes--“I am never going to let that happen.” He kisses me with such passion, I want to crawl up his body and take him again. I can’t believe he just said those things and kisses me like that then casually walks back to his car. “Email me your schedule, first thing!” He demands and gets in his car. He is waiting until I am inside, but I don’t think my legs will move. I finally move at the sound of his horn, and hurriedly turn, then go inside. Once in my apartment, I realize I don’t have his email address. Thinking I’ll text him in the morning, I notice another box just inside my door, but I had already had one delivery. I pull at the tape and remove a folded Harvey Nichols bag; it’s light, and a card falls to the floor. It is handwritten:
Seven sets of individually wrapped beautiful lace lingerie in white and pastel shades lay in my lap. I am again speechless.
My life feels very much like a fantasy at the moment. I am sitting in my other lingerie, the deep purple silk and black lace set, waiting for my call. If I’m honest, I would rather not take this call tonight. I’ve had so much sensory thrill with Daniel tonight, I don’t want to have that memory replaced, just yet. I would like to savour the evening a little more. I close my eyes and my mind wanders: each touch of his hand, each heated kiss, each graze of his teeth, each thrust from his cock. I moan and arch, wriggle and writhe. I am loving the detail of this recollection. My heart is beating fast, and it’s all too vivid, and I find I have a desperate need demanding attention between my legs when the phone rings. I’m dazed, and I jump for the phone, taking a little longer in this state. It is nearer to two in the morning, this call is very late.
“Sir.” I answer on the second ring.
“Lola.” His deep voice vibrates through me. “I trust you have a good excuse for your delay in answering my call?”
“Yes, Sir. I was thinking and got a little carried away.” It’s the truth, at least.
“Something good, I hope?” His voice is both calming and seductive.
“Yes, Sir, something very good.” I am glad he didn’t ask if I was thinking of him, because as it is I haven’t lied.
“Would you like to tell me about it?” I don’t ; I don’t want to share this and I hesitate.
“No?”
Interesting… I think the purple suits you. You look good enough to eat, dessert, perhaps?” I sit up shocked at this remark. “I assume you chose to wear the second set of lingerie I sent you? It’s the logical choice, and the lace reminds me of icing, sweet like a dessert.” I hear the words, but I’m still a little freaked by the reference to dessert.
“The lace is very beautiful, Sir.” I barely manage to reply.
“Yes, very.” He pauses “Good night, Lola.” The line goes dead.
That was strange, mercifully brief, but very strange.
Now, I sit wide-awake, a little bit freaked and a little bit horny. I slip out of my underwear, back into my soft oversized T-shirt and pull my ancient laptop onto my lap, groaning at its weight. It sounds like a tractor starting up and I probably have time to make another bedtime drink before it’s open but I wait patiently. I decide to send Daniel my schedule:
To:[email protected]
Subject:Schedule
Mr. Stone,
Schedule as promised. Also a woman of my word. Work your magic!
Regards,
Miss Thorne
I am about to power down when I get a return email:
To: [email protected]
Subject: Ridiculous schedule
Miss Thorne,
Your revised schedule as approved. I accept that some library time is necessary for your studies, but at the expense of work, not time with me. Any free time is also to be assumed to be mine. Ensure your work schedule is amended accordingly this week. Note that this revision allows for you staying over on Sun, Wed, Fri and Sat evening. So make necessary arrangements for your other commitments, which currently prevent this. Your class on Saturday will now be with my personal trainer and you also have a doctors’ appointment Monday at 1:30 p.m. I’ll send a car. This is an unprecedented level of compromise on my part.
You’re mine, Miss Thorne.
Daniel Stone
CEO
I decide to call him rather than play email tennis, as it is too difficult to gauge tone that way.
“Miss Thorne?” His voice is low and soft. Oh, God, he sounds like sex.
“Mr. Stone, don’t you sleep?” I quip.
“Not very much, no, although I probably would if you were beside me. Would you like me to come and get you? Are you worried if I’m getting enough sleep?” The thought of him coming to get me heats my cheeks and has me off topic. Ignoring his questions, I continue.
“Mr. Stone, don’t you think your amendments are a tad unreasonable?” I try to argue lightly.
“Not in the least.” His answer, abrupt and decisive, and I sigh.
“Even if I could cut my hours I can’t just leave Anthony short staffed like that, it wouldn’t be fair.”
“So letting Anthony down is your only objection?” I can sense he is fishing for obstacles he can obliterate.
“No, it’s not. You work long hours, I’m sure; although there’s not much evidence of that lately.” I scoff. “What am I supposed to do if you’re working and I’m not? I think I mentioned my aversion to being at someone’s beck and call?”
“Bethany, all I ask is that you cut your hours slightly and spend that time with me. More than likely we’ll be working alongside each other, but I would just rather have you there with your head in a book than in a library with your head in a book.” He makes me sound so unreasonable and I can’t deny I like the idea of spending more time with him, perhaps a little too much.
“But I have a life too--well not much of a life--but I am not going to cut my family from that. I will still be attending classes with Marco and I will still be going out with Sofia, like I am on Friday.” I thought I should put that in while we appear to be negotiating. The truth is I really like spending time with him, outside of the sex, which is awesome; I really enjoy his company. He makes me f
eel safe, and no one has done that in a long time. That in itself is why I know I am fighting this losing battle. What Daniel represents and what he is offering are wholly seductive and scary as hell.
He ignores my Friday comment but grumbles in frustration. “You have no idea how frustrating this is. I don’t capitulate, I rarely negotiate, and I always get what I want, and you have me compromising left and right! Impossible!” He exhales dramatically. “All right, you get the gym but you also come with me to my personal trainer. You get your Uni-time--although one of those lectures is mine--and you also get one day working a daytime shift, which I am happy to sort with Anthony if you would prefer? The rest is mine!” It is a closing statement.
“Wait!” I call out before he hangs up, “I’ll speak to Anthony, please don’t.” I plead because I have not had someone intercede on my behalf for I don’t know how long.
“All right, but tomorrow, Miss Thorne. Do it tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, I’m feeling sleepy now, someone wore me out today.” I can hear his smile.
“Ha! You’re so funny! Says the one with Red Bull running through his veins. Goodnight, Daniel.” I smile and sink into my covers trying to recreate the warmth he incites, a pointless exercise.
“Goodnight, Bethany.” The phone goes silent in my hand.
MAGS HAD SENT me a statement with my income for the week, which looks all wrong, but she assured me that was the fee less her commission and extra courier costs. It did look like I could cut my hours at the restaurant on the strength of that alone, and I could really use the time, not just for study, but to explore my other business ideas. I like the idea of spending more time with Daniel, more than I should. I am trying to be cautious but he is so damn tempting.
I spoke to Anthony at the start of my shift. I knew he would be supportive and accommodating, which is why I wanted to talk to him and not have Daniel flatten him with his demands for my time, like a big old steamroller. I agreed to work Tuesday all day and help out at the weekends when they need. I’ll probably be twiddling my thumbs with this much time to myself.
I leave the restaurant at one. It’s a twenty minute walk to my doctor’s, and I don’t need Daniel’s driver to take me, but I don’t want the confrontation either, so I just leave a little early. I get to the corner of the street when I see his car draw alongside me, and the window in the back begins to lower.
“Going somewhere, Miss Thorne?” Smiling like he is, it’s difficult to be irritated at this borderline obsessive behaviour; difficult, not impossible.
“I don’t answer obvious questions, Mr. Stone.” I continue to walk and the car continues to crawl much to the irritation of the cars following.
“You’re causing a traffic jam, Miss Thorne. Would you kindly get in the car?” he calmly demands.
“You’re causing the jam!” I’m exasperated, but since the horns have started blaring, I open the door and get in his damn car.
“Good afternoon, Miss Thorne. Did you sleep well?” His voice is cool and reserved, ignoring my temper as I slam his car door. His dark suit is impeccable, his blue tie matches the intense blue of his eyes, and his hair is just tousled. I want to run my fingers through it.
“I slept very well, eventually.” I turn with a somewhat angry scowl. “How did you know who my doctor is?”
“I have access to the University records. I know a great deal about you, Miss Thorne.” He actually smiles at my dropped jaw.
“Do they know you freely rifle through private records?” I’m incredulous at his brazenness and disregard for privacy.
“Just yours,” he calmly states, as if that makes it okay because it is just my records. “Do they know you’re really twenty?” My mouth snaps shut.
“I hope not.” I softly reply and nervously pick a strand of hair at my neck. He takes my hand and gently kisses my fingertips.
“Why do they think you’re twenty-five, then?” His eyes hold mine, but his query has me on edge.
“What are you, the University police?” I pull my hand away, but he grabs it back and holds it more firmly.
“No, Bethany, I would just like to know. And you are a terrible liar, so let’s not go down that road.” He pulls me onto his lap and kisses my hair, below my ear and onto my neck.
“Mmmm, ahhh.” I drop my neck to the side, and he swipes his hot tongue, then clamps his lips in the crook of my neck and sucks. “Oh, God, Daniel.” A sudden rush of tingles spread wildly from his kiss throughout my body and I quiver from head to toe.
“You were saying, Miss Thorne?” He lifts his head and fixes his dark eyes on me.
“Easy for you to say,” I mumble on an exhaled breath. “I can’t afford to study full-time. I need my job for my mum’s care. But I also don’t want to take eight years to get my degree. As a mature student, aged twenty-five, I qualify to do the part-time program. It’s all about unit credits; if I can double up on credits, like a full-time course I can try and complete the degree quicker. Maybe not the three years, but working hard, I might be able to do it in four.” I don’t know if I have just sealed my own expulsion from the course, but I do know if I hadn’t told him, he would just keep investigating, and that in itself would probably result in the same.
“Why is a degree important? I didn’t finish at Oxford, and I didn’t turn out too bad.” He looks more like a rogue rather than a successful businessman with his sly grin.
“No, you didn’t, but I just always felt that my education was something that was mine, something no one could take away. I like the idea of having choices, and…” I add quietly, “I made a promise. Besides,” I lighten my tone, but he holds me tighter. “I have some new product ideas, and no idea what to do next. They have this lecture program with this super successful, smoking-hot business type,, who gives all this great advice. It’s a win-win for me. If I don’t get kicked out.” I shrug trying to make light of this. It’s not light, it’s my life, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Smoking-hot you say? Should I be jealous?” He dips his head to dig his nose into my hair, causing a shiver of cool tingles up my spine.
“Definitely, I can’t get enough of this guy.” He shifts around in a swift move, which has me pinned to the seat with him above me and a scorching glare.
“So I take it you have amended your schedule to meet my requirements’?” He rasps.
“For now.” I whisper.
“For now, that would be because everything is temporary?” His eyes search mine. They are intense and questioning.
“Yes,” I confirm, and he makes a loud frustrated noise in the back of his throat before his mouth slides over mine. His soft full lips are sweet, and his tongue flicks and searches, entwining with mine. He plunges deep, demanding and devouring. I match his desire, and as he pulls away, I bite his bottom lip between my teeth and suck hard. We arrive at my doctor’s.
“You’re not coming in!” I cry out in horror. There is no way that could be misinterpreted, but I push his solid chest back to be sure as he doesn’t try to follow me out of the car.
“Why?” He seems genuinely confused.
“Seriously? I haven’t had a chaperone since I was ten, not going to start now. I’ll be fifteen minutes. You can wait here, or I’ll see you later, your choice.” His mouth forms a thin line.
“I’m not a chaperone, and this is about us.” Oh, that is kind of sweet, but no! I raise my brow, waiting for his choice.
“Fine!” he barks. “But I’m waiting because you’re coming back with me.”
“Your apartment?”
“No, work. I’d like to show you what I do.” He says with pride.
“When you’re not fucking me?” I grin.
“When I’m not fucking you, but since you’re coming to my work, I can’t guarantee that won’t happen there, too.” He flashes his amazing, sexy smile, and now I can’t wait to go to his office.
Fifteen minutes later I am back in Daniel’s car, where he hands me a printout with his name on it. A brief look at th
e information and I glean that Daniel is fit and healthy. Not instantly picking up on the relevance I hand it back and smile. “I guess you have to have that done regularly for insurance purposes or something. I’m glad you’re fighting fit.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes, it says you’re fit and healthy… good for you.” He hands me back the paper and points at the information indicating sexual health status.
“Oh,” I say softly, not really comprehending what this has to do with me.
“Oh! And no, I don’t have this type of check-up regularly. I always wear a condom--always.” I don’t know why he is grumpy, it’s not like I called him a manwhore. He is the CEO of a global corporation. I thought his health would be important for the company, since he is the company. I know nothing about his sexual history, other than he doesn’t have relationships, but I can’t imagine him having long periods of abstinence, not with his sex drive and not looking like that. I find this thought unpleasant, and I sink back into my seat and look out the window. We have passed Trafalgar and are heading along The Strand. He takes my hand and starts to nip and suck my fingers, sending a ripple of sparks across my skin.
“Ask the question, Bethany.” His tone is quiet but demanding and he looks stern.
“It’s none of my business, Daniel.” I turn my head again, his eyes burning right through me, but he reaches over and holds my chin firm, his steely gaze fixed on me.
“Ask the fucking question,” He demands.
“Argh! It’s none of my fucking business!” I don’t move my head, and I return his glare. His jaw is twitching, and I think he is going to lose it, when he captures my mouth in a violent, demanding kiss, thrusting his tongue aggressively between my lips like he is trying to drag the question from my mouth. Stiff at first at the intrusion, I quickly soften as my lust for him takes over. My hands fist his shirt as he holds my face, then slides his hands into my hair. He pulls, tilting my head to allow better access before he pulls my head right back to break our heated exchange. I gasp to regain my stolen breaths.