ARROGANT MASTER

by Winter Renshaw

  She reaches for her bag and pulls out a book she’d purchased on our drive to the airport, hastily flipping to the first page like she’s in desperate need of a distraction.

  “I know, Dane. You act like I’m going to forget. You’re not my boyfriend. I’m reminded of that every single day.” Her words are bathed in defeat.

  My lips part to respond and then I save it. Apparently I’ve already made myself crystal clear.

  Every single day.

  “Have you spoken to your sister yet?” I change the subject. The less we talk about us, the better.

  “I planted the seed last week,” she says, turning a page in her book and sighing. “She’s starting to realize there’s a real possibility that our father might marry us off.”

  “So the next logical step would be to pack up and leave.”

  “Right.”

  “When?”

  “Very soon. I’ve been looking at apartments all week.” She turns another page. “I was going to talk to you about taking some time off next week to tour them. I’m looking for something close to the University of Utah, so she can still attend school while I work.”

  “My offer still stands.”

  “Yes, I know. Thank you. But I’m not looking for a handout.”

  “It wouldn’t be a handout. This is what I do, Bellamy. This is what I live for.”

  “That and wind turbines and solar panels.” She turns and offers me a wink, a bit of reassurance that she forgives me for my emotional deficits.

  I lean in, whispering into her ear, “That’s a very smart mouth you have right now, Bellamy. I just might have to punish it tonight.”

  ***

  “Did you bring the notebook?” I unknot my tie and yank it from my neck as Bellamy slinks into our hotel room after dinner. My good friend and chef, Daniel Bilby, prepared us a steak and lobster dinner, and we watched the kitchen madness all from a private booth in the kitchen.

  I’ve never taken a woman on a date like that, and being in the midst of the action meant having to forgo any action of our own, but it also sucked any and all romance from our “date.”

  Completely intentional.

  “I didn’t.”

  “And why not?”

  “It’s still empty.”

  She steps in front of the wardrobe mirror, reaching behind her and sliding the zipper of her dress down until her bare back is exposed.

  “Did I tell you to undress?” I come up from behind, resting my hands on her soft shoulders. My lips fuse with the curve of her neck, and I help myself to a biting kiss.

  “Oh.” Our gazes meet in the reflection of the mirror as she pulls her hair over her opposite shoulder. “I didn’t know we were doing that tonight.”

  “And why would you think that would be off the menu?”

  “You barely looked at me all night. You didn’t touch me but once or twice, and not in the way you usually do.” Her eyes widen. “Not that it bothers me. I figured you weren’t in the mood. You seemed preoccupied.”

  “You’re perceptive.” I kiss her neck. “I’m always in the mood. I crave you always. What makes you think I wasn’t saving my appetite for the hotel?”

  I ran cold because I had no choice earlier. I lost track halfway through dinner as to how many times I’d mentally pictured myself slipping my fingers up the back of her neck, grabbing a handful of her soft, blonde waves, and pulling her into position against the nearest wall.

  But now that we’re completely alone and free to openly step into the shoes of our respective roles, I’m running hot.

  She glances around our presidential suite and then hangs her head. “For a man who prefers his life to be…uncomplicated…you’re the most complicated person I’ve ever known.”

  She isn’t the first person ever to tell me that.

  “Life is never uncomplicated,” I say. “I just prefer my personal life to be uncomplicated.”

  Bellamy sighs, pulling away from me slightly.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I was going to say something, but there’s no point. Just…tell me what to do.”

  “Well, that’s sexy.”

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “How did you mean it?”

  “Just tell me where you want me, tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do it. That’s why I’m here.”

  The way she says it almost breaks my heart. I slide my hands under her arms, snaking around to the front of her. After taking a handful of her ripe breasts, I press her body back against mine.

  “You know you’re an important part of my life,” I say.

  Bellamy pulls her gaze off the mirror, turning her head to the side.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “Don’t say things like that.” Her heart pounds against the palm I have pressed into her chest.

  “I’m just being honest. You are important to me. Don’t read into it. Simply take it at face value.” I realize I’m asking a woman to do a most impossible task, but if anyone can handle it, it’s her. “I enjoy our time together. I look forward to it.”

  The highlights of my weeks always involve her.

  “I want you to feel special,” I add. “If I take you on a date or buy you a gift or pay you an unexpected compliment, it’s because you’ve earned it. And even when you’re on your knees, bound and servicing me, it’s only because you’re worthy of the task at hand. No one else but you.”

  Bellamy wriggles from my hold, turning to face me. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

  She smiles through misty eyes.

  “Please, will you take me now, Master? I’ve been waiting patiently all night.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  BELLAMY

  Dane’s out cold.

  The sun’s not out yet, and my eyes are hardly adjusted enough to read the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock, but every muscle in my body knows it’s too early to be up.

  Still, I can’t stop staring.

  I’ve seen him naked plenty of times. That’s nothing new. But I’ve never seen him asleep. I roll to my side and feast on the man with the hollowed cheekbones, the dark lashes, and the perfectly bowed lips.

  His soundless breathing and peaceful expression make him look like a painting. Without his three-piece suit and that permanent arrogant glimmer in his eyes, he looks like any other man. Right now he’s Superman without the cape.

  I always preferred Clark Kent anyway.

  My eyes trace the length of his bare arms before settling on the lines and ridges of his upper body. His skin is soft, smooth, lightly tanned and perfectly toned. I’d press my cheek against his chest if it wouldn’t wake him.

  I wish he’d stir a little, just enough to roll a bit closer, and hoist his arm around me, pulling me in. Maybe someday I’ll be with someone who’s comfortable holding me for longer than five minutes at a time.

  My lids become weighted, and the promise of another hour or two of sleep sings to me. I’m stuck at a crossroads, torn between getting more sleep or studying the gorgeous, broken man in front of me. Both equally tempting.

  “Go back to sleep, Bellamy.”

  He’s awake.

  “Yes, Master.” Even in my half-asleep state, I’m keen enough to cover my tracks. The last thing I need is for him to think I was lying here admiring him…

  Because I absolutely was.

  ***

  Dane returns from the hotel gym as I’m about to step into the shower. The conference is in ninety minutes. He hasn’t said a word all morning, and I’m not sure if that’s normal or not considering the fact that this is the first time I’ve stayed the night with him.

  With my back to the hot water, I tilt my head, shutting my eyes. The clink of the shower curtain sends a shock to my heart, and I grasp at my naked body until I realize that a very undressed, deliciously sweaty Dane is climbing in with me.

  “Oh, hello.” I hand him a bar of soap. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine for one second. “Ha
ve a good workout?”

  His hands grab my ass, and we switch places, our wet bodies gliding and slicking against the current of steaming hot water. Even covered in sticky sweat, he smells amazing, and I wouldn’t mind licking him clean.

  “Keep your eyes up here,” he teases. He’s testing me. He wants to make this a game so that he has an excuse to punish me should I disobey.

  He hasn’t punished me in a while, and I kind of miss it because no one has ever pushed my boundaries the way he has.

  “I’ll try, Master.” I give him a wink, resisting the overpowering urge I have to steal a kiss from his wet lips.

  His fingertips graze up my hip until he reaches a nipple, which he wastes no time twisting between his thumb and middle finger. Leaning down, he draws the tender bud into his mouth and then moves to the other. My head dips back, brought forward again the second his massive erection presses against my thigh and sends a shiver down my center.

  Dane’s hand glides down my slick thighs and up to my core, slipping a wet finger between my seam before pushing it inside me.

  I reach for the shower wall, gasping and silently pleading for him to keep going. He’s notorious for teasing, giving samples and previews, and leaving me desperately hungry for more. Only when I can hardly stand it anymore does he reward me.

  My hips grind against his hand, responding to his every touch. I almost faint when he lowers himself to his knees and brings his tongue to my clit. With fists pounding the tile wall of the shower, I whimper and exhale.

  It’s my tell.

  “You can come now,” he says, his lips moving against my sex.

  I want to grab fistfuls of his lush, dark hair, but I know I’m not allowed, so I grab my breasts instead. I need something to cling to that’s not a toy or a strap or an inanimate object. I ride the wave all the way to the end until I nearly collapse on the shower floor. Dane pulls me up into his arms, placing me back under the warm, running water.

  Maybe it’s the steam getting to me or maybe it’s my post-orgasmic brain fog, but I fall to my knees and take him in my mouth. I don’t ask permission. I don’t think about it. I just act.

  He doesn’t stop me, in fact, his cock throbs in my mouth, growing larger as my tongue circles and swirls every inch of him from shaft to tip. A delicious bead of pre-cum hits my tongue, and I know for a fact I’ll be sucking him dry this morning.

  I grab the base of his cock, my tongue dancing across every groove and vein as I pull him into my mouth over and over. It’s different this time. It’s just us. Naked. In a gorgeous tiled shower. No toys. No props. No straps or restraints. No need to worry about choosing my words carefully or asking politely.

  Dane grabs a fistful of my hair and releases a guttural groan, thrusting his hips into my mouth. I suck harder and move faster, wordlessly begging for that explosion. He tugs my hair hard, bursting into my mouth at the same time. I swallow every last drop and wipe my mouth, rising with a satisfied smile.

  The second our eyes meet, the party ends. He doesn’t thank me. Doesn’t give me a verbal pat on the back. He simply lathers his body with soap, washes and rinses his hair, and steps out of the shower.

  THIRTY-THREE

  DANE

  “Did you enjoy your stay in Nashville?” We climb into the back of my limo Sunday afternoon as my driver, Bronson, hoists our bags into the trunk.

  “I did.”

  She was quiet most of the way back, her nose buried in that same damn book. I’m convinced she was pretending to read it the entire time.

  Bronson climbs in the front and pulls away from the tarmac. By the time we’re merging onto the interstate, she’s spent the better part of the last several minutes staring out the tinted window on her left.

  The Saturday morning shower changed things.

  I’m not a vanilla man. I don’t prefer vanilla exchanges. I’m not sure why I allowed what I allowed. I wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to act afterward. A mixture of warmth, pleasure, and powerlessness smacked into me like a runaway freight train, and I couldn’t process it at the time.

  I still can’t.

  “We’ll do more business trips together,” I tell her.

  She nods.

  After we’d left for the conference Saturday, she spent eight hours manning a booth, and I spent eight hours giving presentations and personally hosting our keynote speakers. We crashed that night after ordering room service and watching some historical drama on pay-per-view.

  Now here we are.

  Back in Salt Lake City.

  Everything around us is exactly the same, but everything about us has changed.

  When Bronson drops her off at her car outside Townsend Tower, I climb out with her. Not only do I intend on giving her a proper goodbye, but I need to make sure she’s okay.

  And also, I need to know that we’re okay.

  Bronson pulls her bag from the limo trunk and wheels it to the back of the Discovery.

  “I’ll see you Monday.” I stand before her, but her gaze is fixed at my feet. “Bellamy, look at me.”

  We meet nose to nose and eye to eye.

  I’m losing her.

  I can feel it.

  And the fact that I can feel it means something.

  Everything about the ache in my chest that appears when I imagine my life without her in it, tells me she’s not just my submissive anymore. But I’m not exactly sure what she is, and I’m not entirely positive I need to go flinging labels on things and making heartfelt declarations just yet.

  I don’t scare easily, but damn if the thought of opening up to her makes my stomach churn.

  I cup her chin, lifting her mouth just enough. Pressing my lips against hers, I run my tongue along the seam of her mouth until she opens for me. Our tongues mingle, and my fingers dig into the soft underside of her jaw.

  It’s a passionate kiss: the kind of kiss lovers might exchange. Fear sinks its gnarled teeth into me, convincing me that if I don’t kiss her here and now, like this, I might never see her again.

  She pulls away, a definite first, and slips away, her heels clicking toward her ride.

  “Thanks for everything,” she says, climbing in.

  “See you Monday.”

  ***

  I don’t see her Monday.

  Instead I receive a text at eight o’clock that morning, asking if she can take the day off to hunt for apartments.

  I give her permission and almost offer my assistance, changing my mind when I know she’ll just turn it down. She wants to do it all on her own, and I respect that.

  Relief comes the second I see her Tuesday morning.

  “Find a place, did you?” I ask after leading her to my office.

  Her hands wrap around a mug of tea, and her glazed expression piques my curiosity.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “I found a beautiful apartment on Hickory Street south of Campus Town,” she says. “Two bedrooms. Big windows. Tall ceilings. A fireplace even.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “They won’t rent to me because I don’t have any credit history.” She takes a careful sip of tea, her eyes fixed on the murky brown liquid. “Called a few other places. They all said the same thing. I need someone to co-sign.”

  “Bellamy,” I say.

  “Yes, Dane. I’ll accept your help, but only because I have no other choice.”

  “It doesn’t make you any less brave or any less resourceful,” I remind her.

  “My father pulled me aside last night after dinner.” She places the mug on the edge of my desk and only then do I notice she’s trembling. “He told me he suspects that my sister has lost her innocence and that his only option is to send her off to marry a virtuous man who can lead her back to the path of righteousness.”

  My eyes flick to the ceiling and back. It sounds exactly like something one of the church elders back at the compound would say.

  “He knows of a man in South Dakota with five other wives. He’s a wealthy man with a
penchant for correcting women who’ve strayed a bit from their paths. He and my father have been speaking for a few weeks now, and my father is absolutely convinced that this is the only option he has to save my sister.” Her bottom lip quivers. “She’s eighteen, Dane.”

  “Now. It happens now. Go get her. Bring her back. You two are living with me until further notice.” I rise, but Bellamy doesn’t move.

  “I’m supposed to drive her to South Dakota sometime this week. I don’t know when, but my father made it clear that he expects me to drop everything the second he gives me the go ahead.” She shakes her head. “It was so hard to sit there and act like I agreed with everything he was saying. I know it was all an act, but I still feel sick about it.”

  “Perfect.” I step to the front of my desk. “As soon as your father tells you to drive her to South Dakota, you’ll bring her to Golden Oak instead.”

  “She won’t go without Jensen.”

  “Jensen?”

  “Our stepbrother. Kind of.” Her pale eyes wince. “He’s my father’s third wife’s oldest son from another man. I’m pretty sure they’re in love.”

  I’m not one to judge the personal lives of others. “Then he can come too.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I smirk. “Are you surprised that the tin man actually has a heart?”

  “Not at all.” Her eyes light. “Do you have an extra car in your fleet? One I could park at a shop for a few days?”

  “Of course. What are you thinking?”

  She sits up straight. “I could leave it at my uncle’s shop, where Jensen works. I’ll tell my cousin that if he comes in there looking for me or my sister, to hand him the keys and tell him to press the HOME button on the GPS. It’ll bring him to Waverly. I love my sister dearly, but if she so much as thought about going back for him and risking throwing away all my efforts, I’d have to kill her. This’ll prevent that from happening.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “Okay.” Bellamy stands, reaching for her mug. The color’s begun to return to her face along with a bit of hope in her eyes. “So now we wait for my father to give me the go-ahead.”