She swallows audibly yet holds her head high like she’s still deciding if I terrify her or turn her on. I don’t want her to be afraid of me. I don’t get off on the fear. I want her respect. I want her submission. I want her to give herself, all of herself, to me.
“I need a job.” Her admission comes via gritted teeth and a set jaw.
“Do you understand what you’re agreeing to, Bellamy? You’re not going to be some secretary. You won’t be filing paperwork or returning phone calls.” My hand meets her jaw, running the pads of my fingers along her baby soft skin. “Your official title will be concierge, but your primary duties will be sexual in nature. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be a hybrid employee.”
“Hybrid?”
“I’ll use you professionally…and personally.” My stance widens, as my hand drops down her goose-bumped skin. “And my offer still stands. Twenty grand per month because this position can be intense, demanding.”
Her gaze drops to my feet, and she wears the expression of a woman contemplating the selling price of her soul.
“I’m going to push your limits, Bellamy. I might make you uncomfortable, or I might give you more pleasure than you’ve ever known. That part is up to you.” I reach for her chin, tilting her face up until our eyes meet again. “I’m a complicated man who prefers all other facets of his life to be…uncomplicated. This is my release. You will be my release.”
She pulls in a slow drag of a breath.
“Are you a virgin, Bellamy?”
“That’s a personal question.” Her response comes without pause.
“It’s a relevant question, and your job offer is contingent upon the answer.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
Her arms cross tight along her chest. “No, I’m not a virgin.”
“Well, then, I think you’ll do just fine here. After all, it’s just sex.”
Her face tilts slightly, just enough that the sun peeking in from the clouds outside my window illuminate the delicate angles of her face. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Obstinate as hell but exquisite in every other way.
I envy the man who enjoyed her first.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll accept the position.”
A slow, half-smile claims my lips. Getting what I want never gets old.
“Would you like a preview?” I propose. “A sample, if you will?”
Her eyes close softly, and she nods. I take her hand, squeezing it securely as it trembles in my palm. I lead her to a closet in the back of my office, pulling the door open to reveal a set of fur-lined cuffs attached to the back of the door. With one hand gripping her wrist, I lift her arm up to the restraint and secure it. As soon as her second hand is restrained, I back away and admire my work.
“How does it feel, Angel?” That’s going to be her nickname. It suits her well. A girl with the face of a saint but the body of a sinner should wear no other name.
Her chest heaves as she swallows deep breaths, one after another. “Different.”
I step closer, our eyes locked tight as I breathe in her clean scent. My hand finds the band of her waist-cinching pencil skirt, and I tug her shirt out in one quick pull. With my fingers working the buttons with slow intention, I lean in and graze my mouth just above hers, not gifting her with a real kiss just yet.
Her eyes wince and then relax before closing completely. She breathes me in, exchanging the air between us along with our power.
Before she has a chance to anticipate my next move, I press my mouth into the flesh of her neck, tasting her sweetness and working my way down to the spot just below her collarbone. Her flesh slips between my teeth as I suck and bite, my cock throbbing each time she squirms against the back of the door.
If this gets her going, she hasn’t seen anything yet.
Without warning, I step away, and her eyes flash with a wild intensity.
“Why’d you stop?” she breaths.
“I told you. It was a sample.”
“So you just like to tie women up and kiss and touch them?”
My face cocks as I rake my hand along my jaw. “I’m not a pervert, Bellamy. When you put it that way…you make it sound…”
“What’s in this for you?”
“Do you really need to understand what I get out of this?”
“Untie me.”
I shoot her a scolding glance. “You should address me as Master, and you should ask me politely.”
Her lips wiggle and dance. Perhaps it’s her nerves, but this isn’t the time or the place for humor.
“It’s not funny, Bellamy. This isn’t meant to be cute. If you’re not capable of taking this seriously, then clearly you’re not what I need.”
“Please untie me, Master.”
My cock pulses. I lunge for her restraints and slip them off her wrists before shutting the closet door and turning to face her. “You’ll work Monday thorough Friday, my schedule, and you’ll need to be available during nights and weekends, whatever suits my whims and urges.”
“Nights and weekends?”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
She glances out the window behind me, deep in thought for a moment. “I’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
“You’re unmarried, correct? No children?”
“Right. None of…that.”
She speaks as if those things repulse her, which is perfect. I’m not marriage material, and I am certainly not a family man. The last thing I need is a woman believing for two seconds that she can mold me into what she wants, that she’ll be the one to change me.
That’s not how I work.
“Excellent.” My phone rings, likely my nine A.M. conference call with my half-brother, Beckham. “We’ll hammer out the rest of the details later. For now, you’ll need to head down to Laurie in H.R. to complete your hiring packet.”
“Will I have an office? Or will I just be in here, with you?” Her naivety is almost endearing.
“Your office will be right next door. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I grab the receiver off my desk and take a seat, watching the way her hips sway as she walks out the door. I’d give anything to hang up this phone and grab a handful of her curved ass in my hand.
As of now, that ass is officially mine, and I’m counting down the days before it’s stinging warm and she’s wriggling in my lap against the crack of the paddle.
After all, I still need to punish her for lying.
FOUR
BELLAMY
Questions swarm my mind, mixing together in a slurry of confusion and excitement.
What just happened in there?
And what did I just agree to?
And what kind of company has these types of jobs?
Is it legal?
On what planet is any of this normal?
And why do I not feel as if I’ve just been sexually assaulted?
At least I’ll be paid well. Twenty-thousand dollars a month well.
I tuck my shirt back into my skirt and smooth my hands along the buttons until I no longer look like I’d been hot and bothered two minutes ago.
I’m blushing. My cheeks fill with red that radiates straight down to my core. When Dane almost kissed me, I thought I was going to lose it. It’s a miracle I stayed as composed as I did because all I could think about was the way he would feel inside me.
The intoxicating bite of his expensive cologne still lingers in my lungs. I want to bathe in it and never forget the way it swept me away for a small portion of my young life. His cologne makes me feel fancy. Sophisticated.
Like there’s a whole other world out there waiting for me to explore.
A world like I’ve never known and in which I undeniably belong.
My mind is stuck on Dane like it’s on a loop, replaying the last hour over and over, the good intensely dominating the bad.
I walked in this morning thinking I’d be filing papers and typing memos all day. Never once did I ever imagine a scenario in which I’d
be agreeing to sexually submit to some arrogant suit.
The hunger in his eyes and the way he subtly licked his lips as his gaze dripped down me slow like honey melted my concerns and strengthened my resolve. Sex with a very handsome man might not be the worst thing I could’ve stumbled into.
But I didn’t love the restraints.
At all.
Sigh.
“Laurie?” I knock on the door with the H.R. sign hanging next to it. “I’m Bellamy. Dane sent me here to sign some paperwork.”
She looks up over her red-framed glasses, her pearls pooling into a puddle on her desk.
“Yes. I’ve been expecting you. Come in. Have a seat.”
I took a human resources management class at college once. I don’t remember much about it besides the fact that H.R. is meant to protect the company from certain liabilities. Most people think the H.R. department is their personal liaison, someone to turn to when they’re having troubles with their superiors or an unfair policy.
Laurie’s job is to serve the best interest of the company, which is exactly why the first document resting atop the stack of paperwork is a non-disclosure agreement.
She knows.
How many have come before me?
“This is standard,” she says, sensing my reluctance. “Feel free to take it to your office and read it over. There’s a consent form in there that you and Mr. Townsend need to complete together. If you have any questions, I’m a phone call away. The insurance forms are pretty self-explanatory. Don’t forget to sign and date the background check authorization and complete the emergency contact form.”
I gather the stack of papers in my hand and nod toward the door. “Dane said my office is next to his. Would it be unlocked?”
“Everything’s ready for you. Your key is on your desk. I.T. has set up your computer. There’s a company directory in your top desk drawer.” Her words are short and curt, like she’s telling me, “You’re a smart cookie. You got yourself into this. You’ll figure it out” in not so many words.
I suppose she’s exactly right.
When I leave Laurie’s office, I bump into a group of women standing around the reception desk laughing and chatting idly with fancy, enameled mugs in their manicured hands. The conversation ceases as soon as I approach, but one of them offers me a kind smile.
“I’m Bellamy.” I stop and introduce myself. Humanizing myself always seemed to work with the mean girls at school. People tend to be kinder in their judgments when they realize you’re not much different than they are or at the very least, that you have a name.
Marlene introduces them as Caitlin, Harlow, and Brenna. I’m told they’re from accounting, but they look as if they sashayed straight off a Parisian runway. I’m guessing smiling Brenna is the halfway decent one of the bunch. The others keep their distance, not saying much of anything as they grip their mugs and bide their time before I carry on my merry way.
They’ve got to know.
I’m sure the second I leave, they’re going to discuss the new company courtesan.
It’s okay, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to make money so I can move on with my life. This’ll all be a distant memory someday, mean girls and all.
I amble down the hallway, toward the mahogany double doors, which house my master’s office. I giggle at the word master. It’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t possibly take it seriously.
But for twenty thousand dollars a month? I’ll at least pretend like I take it extremely seriously.
When I reach my office, I slip inside expecting something more along the lines of a janitorial closet. The buckling of my knees in response to the sweeping view of the city, the polished mahogany desk, and the crystal sconces on dimmers was the last thing I expected. Wallpaper covered walls in a shade of cream give off a luxurious sheen fit for a palace-dwelling queen, and a brand new laptop and cell phone rest in the center of it all.
My finger traces along the dust-free ledge of my desk before trailing up to the silver laptop. I crack the lid and take a seat at my desk. The screen prompts me to create a password, but before I do, I pick up the shiny, white cell phone sitting to my right.
I’ve never owned a cell phone in my life. They’re strictly prohibited in the Miller family.
Except, of course, for my father. He gets one for emergency purposes, he says, since he works outside of the home.
But no one else.
I’ll have to fight tooth and nail and explain that this is a work phone, and even then I’m looking at slim chances. But it’s worth a shot.
While I ransack my drawers in search of a pen, a quick rap at my door ushers in Dane. I lose my breath for a second until I force ice water through my veins and try to regroup.
“That was a quick conference call,” I say as he takes the seat across from me. He pulls two pens from the interior breast pocket of his suit and places one in front of me. It reminds me of a polished silver bullet. Upon examination, I see his monogram along the barrel.
His palm runs the length of his slim, black tie. “My brother isn’t one to be long winded.”
“What’s his name?”
Dane’s head tilts as if he’s bothered by this small talk. “Beckham. Beckham King. He runs the east coast division.”
Different last names. I want to ask why, but it’s none of my business.
“Have you had a chance to go over the paperwork?”
“I’m just getting settled. Was looking for a pen when you walked in.”
“Why don’t you start with the consent form? My time is limited, and I’d like to get that out of the way.”
I lick the pad of my middle finger and page through the stack of paperwork until I come across a consent form. It’s on personal stationery with the logo of a legal firm at the bottom along with an attorney’s signature.
“I have some questions first.” I peer across the desk at him. “If that’s okay.”
“And what are your questions?”
“It’s just, I didn’t know this type of job existed. I guess I’m more curious than anything else. Is this legal?”
He smirks. “You’re not a prostitute, Bellamy. If that’s your concern.”
“I guess I just don’t understand why you need someone here all day, every day for this? Not that I’m complaining. Like I said, I’m just curious. I’m not judging you.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He holds still, his gaze steady and unwavering. He’s certainly not apologizing for his preferences. “When the entire world is at your fingertips, you can be more frivolous with your whims. Some people might like a fancy coffee maker in their kitchen, knowing they can have their favorite coffee drink whenever the mood strikes them. They’re addicted to coffee. They need it every day. The machine is there for their convenience.”
“You’re comparing me to a coffee maker?”
“I’m just saying, we all have our vices. Mine just happens to be beautiful, submissive women. If I can afford to have one exclusively on stand-by for me, then I certainly won’t deny myself that luxury.”
“So I’m a luxury?”
“You are absolutely a luxury.”
“And what exactly will I be consenting to?” I bring the paper closer, inspecting it and reading from the top.
“Read, Bellamy.”
I, _______________, declare under penalty of perjury that I am above the age of eighteen.
I, ________________, declare that I am participating in this sexual relationship of my own free will and that I have not been coerced, threatened, manipulated, or harmed into doing so.
Both parties agree that this agreement is to be private and not disclosed to third parties for any reason. Doing so shall result in legal punishment including sexual misconduct and invasion of privacy.
My initials next to the listed items below indicate that I am consenting to those acts:
___ Fondling and kissing intended to cause sexual arousal
___ Oral sex (giv
ing and receiving)
___ Sexual intercourse with a condom
___ Spanking
___ Paddling
___ Sensory deprivation (blindfolds, etc)
___ Ball gags
___ Rope arrangements
___ Cuffs, ties, shackles, and other forms of bondage
___ Nipple clamps
___ Biting
___ Vibrators and forced masturbation
___ Orgasm denial
___ Public play
___ Sex club accompaniments
___ Dirty talk
___ Punishment in various forms (physical, verbal, sexual)
I, _____________, declare that I am drug, alcohol, and infection free, and I am consenting to have sexual intercourse and participate in a D/s relationship with _____________. I also agree to have a complete medical examination done at my earliest convenience and to release the records to _____________.
It is understood that when I say the word STOP at any time, before or after, my partner agrees to cease all activity immediately.
Party 1________________________ Date_________
Party 2 ________________________Date_________
“You’re blushing, Miss Miller.” Of course he points out the obvious.
“Will we be doing all these things?”
“Not necessarily. Some of them I’ve grown quite bored of to be honest. We’ll do whatever strikes my fancy when the mood hits.”
Our stares lock for a moment.
“Do these things scare you?” he asks.
“No,” I half-fib.
“Good,” he says. “You shouldn’t be scared. I would never hurt you, Bellamy. You should know that. This relationship isn’t pleasurable for me if it’s not, at least in some way, pleasurable to you.”
That’s a relief.
“That’s good to hear, because looking at all of these things makes me think you just want to hurt me.” It’s the most honest thing I’ve said in a while.
His hand shoots across the table, falling on mine. His movements are brisk and stiff like he’s not one to easily give comfort, but his gaze is reassuring in this moment.
ARROGANT MASTER Page 4