***
Rose cuddles me up in a fluffy robe and leads me from the bathroom. We enter the sunroom, and I discover that all evidence of last night is gone. The table, the cutlery, the broken dishware—all of it is gone.
In its place is a high-backed chair.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you sleeping on the floor,” Rose whispers in my ear. “So I had the chair brought in. Mr. Stonehart may not give you a bed, but he said nothing about other types of furniture.”
My heart swells with so much happiness and hope that I trip over my feet. Rose catches me before I can fall. She looks at me, concern glazing her eyes. “Miss Ryder? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I stammer. “Yes, I am.” I feel tears building and can’t do anything to stop them. I never used to cry so easily. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
On impulse, I throw my arms around Rose’s neck and squeeze her in a great big hug. She’s blushing when I let go.
“Miss Ryder,” she says clearly flustered, “I’m not sure if I deserve that.”
“You’re the first person to show me a sliver of kindness,” I whisper. “Rose, you don’t know how much that means to me.”
She looks away for a second and fans her face. When she turns back, there are unshed tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to overstep myself,” she admits, “…but, I had my suspicions.” She takes my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”
Chapter Eleven
Rose leaves after helping pick out my clothes. All I have for company is the dread of Stonehart’s imminent return.
That, and the velvet box lying on the counter of the powder room.
I eye it without picking it up. I don’t want his tokens. But my role—I shake my head—my role is to be his submissive. When my emotions get the better of me, like last night… bad things happen.
I need to be cold, dispassionate, and distant to have any chance of making an escape. I have to think like Stonehart. I have to be like Stonehart.
And I can’t know what he’s like if I stick my head in the sand.
My fingers tremble as I reach for the little box. I hesitate just before I touch it, then push through my discomfort and sweep it up.
It’s heavier than the one before. I look over my shoulder to make sure I’m still alone. When that’s confirmed, I push the lid open.
A small, folded sheet of paper obscures whatever is underneath. I see Stonehart’s handwriting on it. Revulsion builds in my throat, but I force it down. I take a deep breath, channeling my inner strength, and unfold the note.
Lilly,
For your cooperation last night, a second token. Their value is not in their worth, but in what they represent: Freedom.
Collect enough and they may be redeemed for a reward. How fast you earn them depends on your compliance. Once gifted, Tokens of Good Behavior cannot be taken away. They belong to you.
TGB Progression:
(5) earned to be allowed outside your rooms.
(10) to be given access to roam the estate, outdoors.
(15) access to newspapers to inform you of current events
(20) full internet access, with the caveat that your browsing will be monitored by me
(35) public outings by my side
(50) an early release from your contract
- J.S.
I stare at the last line of his note, hardly believing my eyes. He is offering me an early release with fifty tokens?
I know it’s just his way of baiting me, giving me false hope. Hopelessness leads to despair. Too much hope leads to boldness. But hope, when present in just the right amount, can be a powerful motivator.
I tuck the note into my pocket but refuse to think about collecting fifty tokens. He’s the one who gives them out. He’s the one keeping track.
He will never let me reach fifty.
But the other milestones… I think he genuinely means for them to be accessible.
Three more and I’d be allowed out of these rooms? Hell, I’ll take it. It’s not the prospect of false freedom that excites me. Rather, it’s the opportunity to explore his house.
It will be my first venture into gathering the information I need to get back at Stonehart… and ruin him.
***
The second token ends up being a heavy gold bracelet that I put on my wrist. I wonder if Stonehart expects me to wear all of them as I earn them. That sounds ridiculous, especially, when considering the higher numbers. My immediate goal is to get five.
Maybe fifteen.
I spend the rest of the day anxious on my new chair. All I can do is wait for Stonehart’s return. Whether that happens tonight or tomorrow, I have every intention of being ready this time.
Chapter Twelve
I’m dozing off when the door to the sunroom slams shut. I jerk up, instantly awake, and find Stonehart glaring at me.
“How did you get that?” he demands, thrusting a finger at my chair. His eyes glow like embers in his skull.
I stand and face him. “Good evening, Jeremy,” I say, keeping my voice pleasant.
He surprises me by walking over and backhanding me across the face. The force of the blow makes me fall to the floor.
“ANSWER ME!” he roars.
“Rose gave it to me,” I mumble, cowering away. It’s not like Stonehart really has any doubt who brought me the chair. Rose is the only person with access to my rooms.
Stonehart blinks. “Oh,” he says, his rage fading. He stands straight and adjusts his suit. When he addresses me next, his voice is icy calm.
“Tell me, Lilly. Did you ask Rose for the chair?”
“No!” I gasp, clasping a hand over my mouth. The last thing I want is for Rose to get in trouble because of me.
“Hmm.” He nods. “And you’re telling the truth?”
I’m in too deep to back out now. I nod, eyeing him with caution.
“You know that I have every intention of finding out?” Stonehart poses. “If you lie to me, the consequences will not be pleasant, I promise that. I’ll ask you one more time. Did you ask for the chair?”
“No,” I say.
He smiles suddenly and offers me a hand. “Good! Then there’s no problem here.”
I hesitate before taking it. My cheek is stinging. It’s probably already inflamed, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
His strong fingers wrap around my small hand and he helps me up. When I’m standing straight, he takes in my dress.
“Very tasteful,” he tells me. “Although a little wrinkled from your nap. Let’s see…” he lifts the skirt up all the way to my waist. I fight the temptation to clutch the dress down. He takes in my bare legs. When his eyes focus on my exposed core, I can’t help the little rush of heat that pools there. Holy shit, but that is not the reaction I should be having to him!
He lets my dress drop. “Nice,” he says. “Very nice. Now, do a little twirl for me, will you, Lilly-flower?”
I press my lips together and offer a tight smile, then spin once.
“Magnificent,” Stonehart breathes. He picks up my left hand and fingers the bracelet. “I take it you received my note?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Did you understand it?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good. Because if you keep looking like this, I’ll have no choice but to speed up the progression of your freedoms. I want you at my side. Outside.”
My breath hitches at the suggestion. “I will do my best to earn the tokens,” I say.
Stonehart smiles. “Excellent.” He looks over his shoulder at the darkening sky outside. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Do you like it?”
I bite my lip to stop the truth from spilling out. In any other situation, I would love it, but I hate the view because of the false promise of freedom it provides.
“I do.”
“I’m glad,” he says. “Lilly, I’m going to be frank. I had a l
ong day at work. After our… escapades… last night, my mind was fixed on you the whole time I was there.”
I swallow. “Oh?” My voice is small.
“Yes. The courage you showed facing me was extraordinary. Utterly brilliant.”
I look at him without comprehension. “What?”
“I don’t know,” he continues, ignoring my question, “if one token was enough. I think you deserve more. Therefore—” he reaches into his coat pocket, “I would like to present you with three others.”
My heart rises in my chest. Three means that I’ll have five, which means I can redeem them for my first freedom! I feel moisture building behind my eyes and look away, ashamed to be crying. But they are joyful tears, a mixture of relief and disbelief.
“Lilly,” Stonehart reminds me. I look at him, then down at his outstretched hand. In it is one beautiful, red masquerade mask complete with dazzling feathers. “Put this on.”
My breath hitches. This is one thing. Was he lying? Was the promise of three tokens another trick?
“This isn’t your TGB,” he says, as if reading my mind. “But I do need you to put it on before I can show you what is.”
I take the mask from him. Our fingers brush, and a jolt of electricity runs up my arm. I curse my weakness.
“Put it over your eyes,” he whispers. He takes my shoulders and gently turns me around. “I will tie it.”
I hold the mask over my face. Stonehart sweeps my hair aside, gentle as a zephyr, and ties the two strings. His hands run down my naked neck, skimming over the ever-present collar.
He brings his nose to my ear and takes a long, deep inhale. “You smell lovely,” he says, his sexy voice rasping and doing all sorts of inappropriate things to my insides.
I have to fight his effect on me. How can my body respond to him this way? Rationally, it makes no sense. Just minutes ago, the man slapped me! Why does my reaction to him change so quickly?
He lets go, and immediately my skin tingles for his touch. I take a steadying breath and turn around. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful,” he smiles. “Would you like to see?”
I don’t have time to consider the offer as he takes out his phone and snaps a picture. It seems to please him.
“That,” he says, turning the screen so I can see it, “is a dazzling woman.”
I suck in a breath when I see the picture. My cheek is bright red and swollen from where he struck me.
I can’t bear to see myself like that. “Please,” I say to him, “put that away.”
He frowns. “You do not think you’re beautiful?” He keeps the phone directed at me.
“Jeremy, please,” I beg. “Don’t make me look.”
“Oh,” he says slowly, as if the realization had just started to dawn on him. “You’re troubled by… this.” He reaches out for my cheek. I flinch at the sting of his touch.
“Please, Jeremy.”
“Very well.” Stonehart pockets the phone. “A small imperfection only makes you more beautiful.”
I feel an irresistible desire to scream at him, to tell him to stop the mocking compliments. Remembering where that type of behavior got me last night, I shove the urge down.
I don’t speak, though. I’m afraid of what might come out if I open my mouth.
Stonehart motions to the chair. “Shall we?” he asks. He offers his elbow. I take it, and he leads me to the seat.
What this charade is, I haven’t the faintest idea.
He lowers himself into the chair first. Then, he pats his lap. “Here, Lilly.”
I can’t disobey a direct order. I swallow and sit on his legs. He wraps his hands around my tiny waist.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re so tense. Your TGBs will be here soon.”
I try to settle into him the way he wants. My body naturally wants to mold into his, and I fight the urge. Being around such a virile male makes me weak.
I hate that I cannot control that reaction. After everything he’s put me through, and the promise of so much more to come, the only thing I should be feeling toward him is revulsion.
Yet somewhere deep down, in my very core, desire fights to come to life like a seedling searching for sunlight.
I stomp it down without mercy.
I feel Stonehart’s phone buzz in his pocket. He shifts to take it out. “Ah,” he announces. “They are here.”
He taps the screen, and the lights in the room fade. The only one left is the spotlight shining on the pillar. It’s a strange feeling to look at it from the outside.
“Jeremy,” I ask, tensing up, “what’s going on?”
“Don’t worry, darling,” he says. “I hired some entertainers for us tonight. Three of them.”
Just then, baroque music starts to fill the room. It comes from everywhere, giving the impression of being at a live orchestra. There must be speakers hidden in the ceiling and walls.
I hear the door behind us open. I crane my neck. The light from behind them illuminates two men, dressed in all black, rushing to fit a queen-sized frame through the door. I watch, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity building in my gut, as they run and place the frame on the floor directly beneath the spotlight. I sit up to get a better look, and Stonehart’s hand tightens around my waist.
“Stay where you are,” he warns.
I fall back. The two men return with a mattress, and put it on top of the frame. The music continues in the background. One of the men unravels a sheet, and the other darts away to bring in pillows. Soon, there is a beautiful, perfectly made bed in the center of the room.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Stonehart whispers, “and no, that bed is not for us. At least, not for tonight.” He voice becomes an octave lower and a pitch deeper. “Instead of us fucking,” he rasps in my ear, “I thought we could watch others do it.”
“What?” I hiss.
“You heard me.” Stonehart’s hands press into the flesh of my belly protectively. “Enjoy the show.”
The music picks up. Three beautiful women trail in. Each is wearing a silk, sheer gown. The flowing garments differ only in color. One is red, the other violet, and the last blue.
The three women hold hands and run around us once, graceful as ballerinas. Their steps are timed to the music. They giggle and laugh as they throw ribbons of lace in the air.
Stonehart settles back, clearly comfortable. I sit on his lap strung tight as a violin string.
When one of the dancers makes her way to the bed, the others follow. She falls back, her dark hair spread around her head, and beckons the one in the blue to kiss her.
They start to make out, hot, sensual, and lusty. The third woman gently caresses their combined bodies.
Not half a minute later, I feel Stonehart’s hand travel up my leg. I squirm and press my knees together, hoping to deter him.
“Lilly,” he says in my ear, “the show is turning me on.”
His low growl makes my clit throb. I shove the sensation away.
Stonehart is not a good man, I want to scream at my body. Stop reacting to him!
Thankfully, his hand does not go farther than my thigh. My eyes focus on the three lovers again. Their tops have come off, and they are consuming one another, absolutely uninhibited by being watched. There is something very subtle and sensual about the way their bodies come together. It is not crude and forced, but softer, more like art. More like… real lovemaking.
Another unconscious pulse of heat runs through me. I clear my throat to try to forget Stonehart’s hand lying against my bare skin.
That only draws his attention back to me.
My breathing quickens as Stonehart forces his hand into the smooth recess between my thighs. Conflicting emotions rage through me: Revulsion at the way my body responds to him. Disgust with how weak he makes me. And, beneath it all, an undeniable current of need.
I try to ignore it all. I try to ignore the moaning that is filling the room. I try to pretend the steady fingers that a
re massaging me are not there.
But when the first ripple of pleasure spreads through my body, I can’t help a sharp intake of breath. Stonehart makes a sound of amusement behind me, and redoubles his efforts. I shudder as another splash of pleasure rocks my body. I want to push his hand away, to stop the onslaught on my senses. But, I can’t. I’m not allowed to fight him… not unless I want to evoke his wrath.
I dig my nails into the armrests, instead. His fingers keep moving, making my body thrum like a well-tuned harp. The darkness of the room and the performance before me does not let my mind focus on anything but sex. My heart beats faster, my breaths become rapid. I can feel my breasts becoming heavy and tender. I do everything I can to fight the visceral, animal reaction that Stonehart is evoking in me.
It’s no use. I give another little gasp as one more wave of pleasure breaks through my defenses. The three women are now totally consumed in a powerful ménage a trois. Their cries and moans and all the slippery sounds of sex fill my ears, making it impossible not to feel turned on.
“You’re close,” Stonehart rasps. I bite my lip and give a muffled sob, shaking my head.
“You are. I can feel it.” His free hand darts up and kneads my breast. The air leaves my lungs in a burst.
“Come for me, Lilly-flower,” Stonehart says. “Come for me now!”
The command rips open the floodgates. I gasp as the enormous, built-up wave of arousal crashes into my body. For a moment, I soar, lost in a sea of pure ecstasy, before coming back to earth.
Stonehart gives a shuddery moan and withdraws his fingers from between my legs. “Taste,” he commands, bringing them to my lips.
I have no choice but to lick them, for the first time ever, tasting my own juices. Stonehart pulls his fingers out of my mouth and brings them to his own. His clasp loosens on my waist. I have no resistance left as my melted body sags into him.
Chapter Thirteen
I wake up late the next morning. I’m alone. There’s a kink in my neck from falling asleep the wrong way in the chair.
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 13