“Shh... You’ll be just fine. We can get you clothes and I’ll love whatever you decorate. Remember, I hate this, so it always looks like crap. You’ve gotta help get me in the Christmas spirit,” he advised her. She could hear commotion in the background and voices approaching, as he said, “I’ve gotta get back to the meeting. I’ll see you later tonight.” He hung up the phone before she could respond.
She must be in a fantasy. She needed to pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.
The plane landed at a small airport outside Boone, North Carolina and she was driven by another expensive car to a large wooden cabin perched high up on Grandfather Mountain. The air was a crisply cold but, much to her disappointment, there was no snow.
“Welcome to North Carolina, Ms. Maggie. I’ll bring your bags up to the sleeping quarters. Feel free to explore the grounds,” an older, but attractive man explained as he opened the car door for her. She stood, looking up at the well-lit log cabin, with its many stories of balconies, ceiling to floor windows and various stone features. The house was stunning. She placed her feet on the gravel driveway and looked up the slate path leading to the front door, which was showcased, with huge timber columns.
“Thank you. I didn’t catch your name,” she told the gentlemanly assistant, turning back to offer him a polite smile just as he took her bags from the trunk. Why were all of the people that interacted with Bennet so attractive?
“Simon. My name is Simon. The cabin is a beautiful sight, isn’t it? I love coming here, especially when Mr. Croft hosts his annual Christmas party. I’m usually excused when the guests start to arrive, but I’ve gotten a glimpse of the exotic dresses and can only imagine the sorts of things that they do,” Simon hinted, his eyes shining with excitement as he gestured for her to take the path to the front door as he followed behind with her bags.
“What do you mean?” she asked, stopping halfway to the door.
“Has Mr. Croft explained the nature of his party?” Simon asked, gesturing for her to continue walking.
“No, he just told me he needed my help decorating for his Christmas party,” Maggie answered, her eyes wide. She hoped he wasn’t going to say what she thought he’d say next.
“Oh, then it’s not my place to tell you,” Simon answered, stepping in front of her to place the key in the front door.
“Simon, you can’t leave me hanging like that. What kind of party is it?” she implored, sexual curiosity flooded her gut. Was she really going to decorate for the type of party Simon was hinting to? Exotic dresses?
“Ms. Maggie, Mr. Croft hosts an annual sex party for the elite crowd,” Simon answered as he pushed the front door open.
Maggie stepped back on the slate path, trying to regain her balance when her body swayed a little. A sex party? She’d never been to a sex party, let alone engaged in anything even close to a threesome, foursome or kissing another girl. All sorts of images flooded her mind; sexy, kinky images of cult-like activities. She started to panic when she realized that Bennet might expect her to engage in those sorts of things. She was excited, yet overwhelmed, with the potential of the whole situation. Rich people engaging in orgies. Fetishes. Ménage. Domestic Discipline. She didn’t know if she’d be up to par for any of those things. Tons of feelings started to swirl around in her body and it was when a rush of panic overtook her, that everything faded and eventually blacked out. The last thing she felt was her head hitting the hard timber column, then the unyielding slate surface of the front porch.
“Maggie. Wake up, honey,” Bennet’s voice cut through the foggy haze Maggie felt surrounding her head. She was being lifted from the ground by his strong arms and the cool air around her was replaced by warmth as she was carried into the cabin.
“I’ll get some ice for her head. She hit the column pretty hard,” Simon was telling Bennet from behind her. She couldn’t see Bennet’s face or where she was being carried to, she just knew a fireplace was crackling close by and her skin was being warmed by its heat.
“Simon, she’ll be okay. She’s starting to come to,” Bennet answered in a soothing voice as he looked down at her, his face etched with the same concern she’d heard in Simon’s voice.
“Bennet, you didn’t see how hard her head hit that column,” Simon explained in such a panicked voice that it brought Maggie out of her daze.
She tried to sit up only to be held back down by Bennet’s firm hand.
“Don’t sit up, baby. You’ve got quite a bump on your head. The doctor is on his way. Just stay down until he looks you over,” Bennet advised, his smile full of concern. She could see Simon now, standing on the other side of her, his face very pale.
“How long was I out?” Maggie asked, bringing her petite hand to her head.
“Just a few moments,” Bennet explained, holding his fingers against her cheek. The endearing way he looked at her somehow made her feel safe.
“Can I have a glass of water, please?” she asked, her mouth feeling dry from the warm air of the cabin.
“Of course,” Bennet told her, turning to provide Simon with a look that sent him away to gather her drink. He turned back to her, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. His familiarity would normally offset her and send her running for the hills, but for some odd reason her attraction towards him outweighed the fear simmering in her gut.
Simon returned with a glass of water and stepped back as she brought it to her lips.
It wasn’t meant to be an intimate act, but when Bennet’s eyes studied her lips as the cool water poured into her mouth and down her throat, she couldn’t help but notice the appeal in them. She handed the glass to Bennet just as there was a knock on the door.
“Stay here,” Bennet demanded, then left her to answer the door. He held a short conversation with a deep voiced man then returned with him.
“Hello, Maggie. I’m Dr. Moore. Bennet tells me you hit your head. Wanna tell me what happened?” Dr. Moore asked, taking Bennet’s place at her side. He was a younger man, clearly in shape and polished. Maggie assumed he was one of Bennet’s personal friends.
“I think I fainted,” Maggie admitted, her eyes trained on Bennet. Was Simon supposed to disclose the nature of his party? She didn’t want to get him in trouble.
“You think? I believe you did faint, my dear. But Dr. Moore will make sure you’re okay,” Bennet chimed in, taking a step closer.
Simon was standing off to the distance. His concern was endearing and she’d make sure to thank him for his concern later.
“Well, I found out something I wasn’t privy to prior to coming here,” she clarified to both the doctor and Bennet, her eyes boldly on Bennet’s as she spoke. It was the truth after all. If she’d known the sort of parties he hosted, she might have changed her mind about coming.
“Dr. Moore, she learned the nature of the Christmas party I host every year,” Bennet explained, turning his attention away from her to talk to the other man.
This brought a small snigger from the doctor’s mouth and he looked back at Bennet with humor in his eyes.
“Why is this so funny?” Maggie challenged both of them, feeling a little annoyed.
“Oh honey, don’t you fret over anything. Bennet will explain everything and by the end of this week you’ll be excited to join in on the festivities.” Dr. Moore told her, feeling her head with his cold fingers. He touched a soft spot and she winced in pain. “You’ll be okay, sweetie. Keep ice on it tonight and stay down. Then take it easy for a day or two. No ladders or other extraneous activities,” he continued, standing to shake Bennet’s hand as the two men walked away. Maggie listened to the best of her ability as they chatted, but was unable to make out the tail end of the conversation as they stepped outside.
Join in? Shit, she was ready to pack up and leave.
Chapter 4
Bennet closed the door and returned to the living room to find Maggie on her feet and standing in front of the large fireplace, rubbing her hands together in front of the licking flam
es. His protective side kicked in and he charged into the room.
Simon had disappeared to prepare the rooms for bedtime.
“Why are you standing?” he asked, taking her arm to guide her back to the couch.
“I’m fine,” she answered, taking her arm out of his hand. She looked at him, defiant with a determined look in her eye. He may not have known her long, but he knew that look. He’d seen it many times and he’d also given that look back.
“You heard the doctor. You need to lay down and ice your head,” he advised her again while taking her arm back, this time ensuring she wasn’t able to slip past him.
“Why am I here?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch after being directed.
“You’re here to help me decorate. Why do you ask?” he answered, sitting down next to her on the couch. His possessive nature took over and he placed his hand on her knee. He needed to regain the upper hand quickly, if she was going to be the submissive he wanted.
“I don’t think that’s why I’m here. You didn’t tell me you host sex parties,” she challenged, lowering her voice when she stated the word sex. She reached up and explored the sore place on her head, wincing when she did.
He knew she was in pain but being too stubborn to admit it. “You’re right. That’s not the whole reason. But we don’t need to discuss that right now. You need to lie down and ice your head,” he told her, gently pushing her back onto the couch.
“I’m fine. I don’t want to lie down,” she told him, sitting back up with her hand on her head.
“I don’t care what you want. I know what you need. Lie down now,” he demanded, his voice so stern this time that she complied. He collected a bag of ice from the kitchen and handed it to her to place on her head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked after he settled down on the couch next to her and placed her legs across his lap.
“Because you weren’t ready,” he answered.
“Could I ever be ready?” she asked, taking in a shuddery breath as she readjusted the ice pack on her head.
“Yes, you could be. Actually, I knew you would be,” he told her as he rubbed her legs.
“How?”
“I just knew. Now relax,” he told her.
“But I need to know what you expect,” she continued, much to his annoyance.
“I don’t expect anything.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she said as she shook her head.
“Fine. I hoped you’d be my date at the party,” he answered as he threw his arms up in the air, disgruntled that she’d pushed him to the point of confession. He should have been honest from the start with her, he knew. He was always straightforward with his dates, but for some odd reason with this one, this amazing woman, he’d worried she’d say no. He never worried about that – until now. She was different, and from the moment he’d laid eyes on her he felt something he’d never felt before.
“Your date?” she repeated in a stunned voice. She took her hand away from her head and looked up at the wooden ceiling.
“Why are you acting so surprised?” he asked, moving closer to her on the couch. He reached over and smoothed his hand on her cheek.
“I guess I don’t consider myself that kind of woman,” she admitted, her gaze still on the ceiling.
His cock twitched. Her innocence was so damn sexy. She had no clue the power she could hold over him. “Trust me, you are,” he answered as he moved her legs in order to stand and cross the room. He approached a wet bar at the far end and poured himself a glass of expensive whiskey. He didn’t offer her anything because of her head injury.
“Can you explain what happens at the party to me?” she asked, the innocence in her voice pushing him to chug his drink and pour another. If he didn’t control himself, he’d have her on the floor, naked within minutes. She needed quiet.
“I will tomorrow. Right now, I think you need rest. We’ll see how you feel in the morning,” he told her as he pointed to the stairs. “Let’s get you in bed.”
She surprised him when she didn’t resist and allowed him to carry her up the stairs to a guest room where he planned to keep her until she was ready for his bed. He hoped it’d be sooner than later. Only time would tell.
Chapter 5
Maggie woke the following morning to the bright sun shining through the bedroom window. The air was cool in the room, so she snuggled a little deeper into the soft covers. It had been late last night when Bennet carried her to this room and she wasn’t really paying attention to her surroundings.
Now she looked around the beautifully decorated room, with a stone fireplace in the far corner and the slate wall behind her large, king size wrought iron bed. It was well designed and she could tell attention had been paid to every detail. She sat up, attempting to slide out of bed, when a slight headache reminded her of the bump on her head. It was sore. She slowly lay back down and pulled the covers back over her naked body.
It was a good thing she did, because Bennet entered the room after a light knock on the door. He brazenly came in shirtless, wearing only cotton pajama pants that hung off his hips, allowing her a clear view of the vee pointing to his cock. Maggie pulled the sheets a little tighter to her body as he made his way to the fireplace, igniting the gas to bring heat into the room. He moved as if she wasn’t there.
She cleared her throat and he finally afforded her his attention.
“Good morning. How’re you feeling?” he asked, taking a seat right next to her on the bed. The closeness of him made her blush and she struggled to come up with an intelligible answer. She couldn’t believe he was inches from her in such a state of undress.
“I’m okay,” she lied.
“Let me see,” he told her, coming closer so he could reach his arm up to her head and lightly search for the bump.
She winced when he touched the tender spot and sucked in a breath of pain. “Ouch,” she unwillingly stated as she turned her head away so he didn’t touch the sensitive area.
“So, you’re not okay. Don’t lie to me, Maggie. That’s not a good idea,” he warned, then stood.
Her eyes landed on his tight abs and unconsciously she licked her lips. She didn’t notice the involuntary act until he reacted.
He came back over to the bed, standing at the edge, so her face was in line with his cock and explained, “Not yet, young lady. Let’s get you healed up.”
She pulled herself away, shocked that he would assume that she would want him and also amused that he was able to see the truth. Even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. “That’s pretty cocky, don’t you think?” she replied.
He just smiled and made his way to the door. “Simon is making breakfast if you’re up to it,” he announced as he left.
Maggie finally let out the breath she was holding and quickly worked to comb her hair with her fingers and put on a pair of pajamas. She didn’t want him to know she slept in the nude and was thankful he hadn’t investigated.
Just as Bennet had told her, Simon was in the state-of-the-art kitchen cooking a breakfast fit for a king. She took a seat at one of the two leather stools that was placed under the kitchen island, pulling the sleeves of her oversized nightshirt into her fists.
“You cold?” Bennet asked, coming around the island to rub her back in such a familiar way that she couldn’t help but appreciate the attention, especially from him. Her eyes strayed to the vee in his abs again.
“A little,” she admitted, pulling her sleeves tighter into her fists. He continued to rub her back, at first with one hand, then with both, his fingers caressing each muscle with expertise.
“What would you like to eat, Ms. Maggie?” Simon politely asked her, flipping a pancake in a very expensive looking frying pan.
“Umm… Could I have an omelet? Is that possible?” she politely responded, looking over her shoulder at Bennet to make sure she wasn’t overstepping her bounds.
He laughed under his breath and nodded toward Simon. “Yes, he can make you an omele
t. Tell him what you’d like in it,” he told her, lightly twisting her hair in his hands.
She turned back to Simon. “Can I have an omelet with veggies only?” she asked, trying not to notice how Bennet’s hands tangled themselves in her hair or how tight her hair was getting. If he tugged just right, he’d hurt her tender spot, but so far he’d managed to miss it. Instead, images of him pulling her hair as she did things to him flashed in her mind and she quickly pushed them aside with a blush.
“Of course. I have green pepper, mushroom, tomatoes and onion,” Simon answered.
“May have I everything but the onion? Please and thank you,” she replied just as Bennet released her hair.
Simon handed him a hardy plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon. He took a seat next to her and started to eat.
Maggie watched him, studying the way he held his fork, his posture and how he sat. It all indicated he was upper class. She noticed, then, that she was slouching and sat up straight to mirror his posture.
He glanced at her and provided her with a taunting smile. “Good job. Slouching isn’t good for you,” he told her, returning to his plate. She blushed and directed her attention to Simon, who was expertly creating her omelet.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” she asked, her eyes trained on Simon.
“I want you to look at the house and think about how you would like to decorate it. Maybe draw some sketches and create a list of items we need. That’s it. You need to take it easy and rest,” Bennet answered without looking in her direction.
“You want sketches?” she asked, surprised by his request. She couldn’t draw.
“Yeah. I don’t expect works of art, just basic sketches of what you want, to make sure I know what you need. But you need to rest. That’s most important.”
Simon plated her omelet and placed it in front of her and Maggie offered a simple thank you, before returning to her conversation with Bennet. “What rooms am I decorating?” she asked, taking her first bite of the best omelet she’d ever had the pleasure of eating. She moaned her appreciation just as Bennet started to respond, cutting him off.
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