Discarded

by Shae Banks

  “Is something wrong, Bekah?”

  He wanted me to speak? I could hardly fucking think. “I need to use my hands. Sir.”

  I heard him take the steps toward me. He didn’t say a word, but he reached down and placed his hand over my throat. I fought the panic my body responded with. He was not Johnathan. He was not threatening me. He hadn’t applied any pressure. In fact, his touch was very gentle, barely there at all. Only, his hand on my throat brought a rush of panic, and I tensed. Every muscle had gone from loose and useless to taut in a split second, and I opened my mouth to speak. No sound came.

  “Bekah?”

  His voice had lost its commanding tone. He wasn’t Sir any more. He was Callum, and he was concerned.

  I licked my lips and took a shaky breath. “Vanilla.”

  He released me immediately, and my body relaxed.

  “I’m okay. I’m fine. Please…”

  I hadn’t moved, my hands still behind my back, but he had. He was on his knees behind me, one arm circling my waist. “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. I was certain. Vanilla was not the stop word, and I wasn’t ready to stop, not completely. I needed him. All of him. “Yes, Sir.”

  He got to his feet. “Get up, use your hands, come back to me.”

  My word really was enough.

  “Undress me, put the condom on, return to your original position,” he said, looking down at me.

  Still shaky, I reached up for the waistband of his shorts. His erection was clearly visible, and the anticipation of having his cock in my mouth set a flutter of excitement working in my stomach.

  I was careful but diligent, rising up on my knees for better access to the waistband and sliding my thumbs beneath. I pushed them over his hips, down his thighs, maintaining eye contact with him. I didn’t want to look away, but I had to look away to open and roll on the condom. It seemed to take forever. I was desperate to take him in my mouth and give him what he wanted, but that wasn’t how it worked. He controlled everything, and I hadn’t been told I could.

  When I’d returned to my original position, he stepped out of the shorts pooled at his feet and stepped forward.

  “Keep your hands where they are,” he said, reaching for my hair. I laced my fingers together as he wrapped my ponytail loosely around his right hand and turned my head to the side. Even facing sideways, I kept looking at his face.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I obliged, and he turned my head back to face him.

  “You will be incapable of speech. If you need to stop for any reason move your hands up and behind your head. Do you understand?”

  Incapable of speech sounded… dangerous. But despite never having been in that sort of situation before, I was so turned on I think I’d have agreed to just about anything, so I nodded and looked down at his cock.

  Keeping hold of my hair with his right hand, he guided his dick toward my open mouth with his left.

  My first thought was that he was big. There wasn’t enough room. I tried to slow his advance by pushing my tongue up, and foolishly, expected him to withdraw. When he didn’t, I had no option but to open wider, making room for him in my mouth. It wasn’t until he touched the back of my throat that he stopped the slow advance of his hips and guided my head instead.

  With his hand gripping my hair, he moved me toward him, tilting my head back slightly.

  He paused, looking down as I looked up.

  “Beautiful.”

  My stomach clenched. I didn’t care if he meant me or the sight of his cock in my mouth, I was owning it. For about three seconds. Then I gagged.

  Withdrawing he watched as my eyes watered, and I brought a hand up to wipe away the strands of saliva that slipped down my chin.

  “Hands behind your back, Bekah.”

  I obeyed, leaving the mess on my face and neck, and he thrust deep into my mouth again, this time holding my head steady as he looked down at me.

  My eyes watered more, tears streaming down my face, and I fought not to gag, but he was so fucking big. I needed to breathe. I needed a second, but I didn’t want to disappoint him.

  Why? Why did I care?

  All I could think about was his cock. I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted it everywhere. I wanted him to fuck me whichever way he wanted, but most importantly, I wanted to please him and that meant… this.

  A fraction of a second before I raised my hands to my head, he pulled back, and I gasped for breath as soon as my mouth was clear. Tears streaked my face, drool coated my chin, and I was positive I looked absolutely disgusting, but he smiled down at me and said, “You’re beautiful. I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  I could have come from hearing that. I thought I was going to for a second, and I pulled all my focus into controlling myself as he thrust his cock deep into my mouth. That time I took him to the hilt as he gripped my head, keeping me there.

  My jaw was aching, my eyes were watering, and drool was pooling in my mouth, but I kept my hands firmly behind my back. I wanted it. I didn’t even care how I looked. I didn’t care the sound of my choking on his dick was the only sound in the room.

  When his cock left my mouth, I sucked in precious air and looked up. His mouth quirked up in the corners and he said, “Stand up.”

  He kept a hold of my hair until I was on my feet, then he let go and used that hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. He examined his hand, turning it over, then rubbed the viscous fluid over my pussy. He gave a satisfied hum as he slid his fingers along the length of my slit, feeling how wet I was for him, then brought his hand up to my mouth. “Open.”

  He inserted two fingers in my mouth, and I sucked.

  “Tell me how you taste, Bekah.”

  I sucked harder, his fingers not filling my mouth as his cock had. I needed him. I needed more.

  The hard crack of his hand on my ass made me gasp and he withdrew the fingers. He used the palm of his hand to turn my head. I swallowed, then said, “I don’t know.”

  He turned me so I faced the bed and moved to stand at my back. He ran his flattened palm over my ass, then pulled my hips back so I could feel his dick against the tender skin where he’s spanked me. “I wanted this to last longer, but I need to fuck you. Rest on your forearms and look out the window. Do not lower your head.”

  I’d barely had time to move when he thrust into me. Rocking forward, I caught myself and managed to whisper, “Yes, Sir.”

  Whether it was my obedience, or that he’d just reached his limit I don’t know, but he wrapped one hand around my hair and pulled. His free hand slapped my ass hard enough for me to cry out. Not in pain but in pleasure. Not in shock but in ecstasy. Every thrust hitting my spot, making my knees weak. I had to focus to maintain keeping my forearms on the bed, and my gaze out the window as waves of pleasure rolled from my scalp, down through my body, to culminate in my core.

  I tried so hard not to because I didn’t know if that was what he wanted, but I couldn’t stop it and cried, “I’m going to come. Callum… Sir… I’m…”

  He didn’t tell me not to, releasing my hair and taking my hips as his thrusts became deeper, longer.

  Everything quivered, and I balled my hands into fists, biting my bottom lip to keep from crying his name.

  His final thrust was hard and deep, and I heard his voice. “What are you, Bekah?”

  I didn’t know if he’d actually asked or if it was in my head, but I found myself mumbling, “Yours. I’m yours, Sir. Yours. Oh, god…”

  I couldn’t keep my head up any longer, and I collapsed on the bed. His arms wrapped around me, moving me to a more comfortable position, then he joined me. Neither of us said anything. I wasn’t sure I could, and his breathing was too ragged for him to have made much sense.

  He turned my head, and I met his gaze. His eyes had softened, the green showing vibrantly as the sunlight caught them, and I smiled.

  He kissed me. There was no demand, no insistence, and I melted into his soft lips and warm body. I was co
ntent to lay there, safe and sated, and when he lay his head beside mine, he held me tighter.

  I didn’t know what I was feeling right then. It wasn’t lust or love, but it was the most real thing I’d felt in my life. And just strange I’d found it with him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Remember when you said there was a lot of potential locked up in the hotel?” Callum asked, stroking my hair.

  It was almost lunch time, and I’d passed the morning in his arms. I had questions, but I didn’t ask them, content to be with him. I’d gone to him for help. Help he had offered. I hadn’t known what to expect when I got here.

  It certainly wasn’t… this. I didn’t know where to start with the questions anyway. Why was this his thing? I had no complaints. I was surprised, even shocked to a certain extent, but I’d never been so turned on in my life. When had he discovered… this? Where? Who with?

  Okay, so I didn’t really want to know who with.

  I wasn’t certain how to approach it. Was it just roleplay, or more of a lifestyle for him? Was it going to be like this every time? Again, I wasn’t complaining, that was probably the best sex I’d ever had, even being so powerless.

  But, I wasn’t. I trusted him, but he’d given me words to use as a safeguard. When I’d used one, he instantly changed back to Callum. His concern was genuine, and it wasn’t until I returned to the role play he did the same.

  I had complete control. He had my complete trust.

  He had all of me.

  He was waiting for me to respond.

  Forcing myself to concentrate on what he’d just said, I thought back to when I’d mentioned the hotel’s potential. “No. Oh god, that was ages ago. You remembered that?”

  “I remember everything you say,” he said close to my ear. “Do you remember?”

  I smiled to myself. “Yeah?”

  “What sort of potential?”

  I turned over and propped myself up on my forearms. “Just the usual stuff.”

  He frowned. “Help me out, love. Like what?”

  I loved his accent, the difference in how he called me ‘love’ compared to others in my life. Locals would pronounce it luv. He was so posh.

  I rolled my eyes. “Like opening every night, Monday to Wednesday with a lighter menu, like tapas or something, catering for functions, bed and breakfast available all week—especially in peak seasons to catch tourism traffic, catering to more romantic requirements, advertising locally…”

  His raised his brows. “Oh.”

  I shrugged. “It’s what interests me.”

  “And if I were to expand the business somewhat…”

  I looked at him, waiting.

  He took a breath. “Would you consider taking the position as manager?”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “I can’t manage this place.”

  “Why not? You’re qualified.”

  “On paper,” I said with a small laugh.

  “You’ve proven you’re more efficient with the paperwork than I am, having someone to manage that side would give me more time in the kitchen.”

  I shook my head. “No. If you took on a manger it should give you more time to yourself.”

  “How so? More catering hours means more time in the kitchen.”

  I shook my head again. “You’d need at least two extra kitchen staff, assuming Lee would go full-time, four waiting and bar staff, a night porter, additional housekeeper. You’d have all those extra salaries to cover and the first year would probably be slow so you’d be out of pocket by a lot. It’s probably not worth it.”

  He nodded, pulling me back into my side, and rested his chin on my shoulder. “But if we could pull it together and break even?”

  We? “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve thought about it but didn’t know where to start. It seems you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “Me playing hotel manager in my head is nowhere near actually throwing money at recreating what I dream up.”

  “What sort of money?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said with shrug. Then it clicked. He wasn’t asking hypothetical questions. He really was interested. My heart beat a little faster. “God, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

  He gave me his don’t give me shit, I’m your boss look. “Bollocks, you don’t know. Number.”

  “No more than twenty-five grand for redecorating, advertising, all the small things like that.”

  “Redecorating?”

  I nodded. “The décor in the lounge has to go.”

  “Okay,” he said, not sounding convinced, “Anything else?”

  I sighed. “Plenty, but it would be easier to show you.”

  “You have this all planned out already, haven’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Evenings were boring before I had you.”

  He cocked a brow, and I snorted with laughter. When I’d stopped laughing, I said, “If you really want to see what this place could be, I’m happy to give you a full virtual tour of the type of hotel you should be emulating.”

  “Type?”

  I nodded. “I’m talking locally produced organic bathroom products and pillow menus.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Pillow menus? Are you certain you were born and bred here?”

  I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. “Just because we’re in the back of beyond doesn’t mean we don’t have class.”

  He kissed my cheek and got out of bed. “Stay there. I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?” I complained. I didn’t want our lazy day to end just yet.

  “We need breakfast and a laptop. I want to see how you’d like to spend my money.”

  I was about to throw a pillow at him in protest when he laughed and ducked out of the room.

  If I’d thought it was going to go that far I would have kept my mouth shut. I was nowhere near qualified enough to influence that level of change to his business. I had ideas and understood the theory, but I’d never had an actual job with that level of responsibility. I didn’t want this to be the first time I screwed something up. And certainly not for him.

  He seemed to take forever to come back, and I got out of bed to see where he was.

  I found him in the kitchen making the biggest omelet I’d ever seen.

  “Oh, my god. What’s that?”

  “Frittata,” he said, opening the oven and sliding the cast iron pan inside. “You need something substantial.”

  Noticing the French press, I set to work pouring coffee.

  “Careful you don’t scald anything,” he said with his eyes one me.

  I grinned. “I hope you were careful not to splash oil anywhere.”

  “I’m always careful,” he said with a wink as I picked up the two mugs and walked away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to bed,” I said over my shoulder.

  “You want to eat in bed?”

  I carried on walking.

  “My laptop is in the bag under the bed,” he called after me.

  I left his coffee on the nightstand on his side of the bed and sat cross-legged beneath the duvet with several browser tabs open when he came in carrying two plates. “Are those napkins?” I asked as he walked around the bed.

  There was something incredibly sexy about being served breakfast in bed by a naked chef, and I admired him for a second before taking the offered plate.

  “Do you see something you like?” he asked, moving to the other side of the bed and shuffling close.

  I’d already started cutting into my brunch with the edge of my fork and was about to take a bite when I said, “Definitely, but I’ll have to wait. I’m a bit busy.”

  He smirked and went to make a start on his own, using the knife he’d brought to cut his. “Oh, my god,” I moaned. “What’s in this?”

  He looked a little worried. “Umm, potato, peas, parsley, chorizo. What’s wrong?”

  I’d shoved another forkful in my mouth and had to talk arou
nd it. “Nothing, it’s amazing.”

  He was shaking his head and handing me a napkin when I turned back from taking a gulp of coffee.

  “What? And seriously, who has cloth napkins at home?”

  “People who don’t tend to eat in bed,” he said with a crisp edge to his tone. “What’s all that?”

  I looked down at the laptop. “Okay, so this is my Pinterest board where I put all my ideas.”

  “I’m familiar. What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the bottom right of the screen.

  “That would be the lounge,” I said, glancing his way to measure his reaction. There wasn’t one so I continued. “None of the cream sofas and chairs, the ones in there are beautiful, but the walls are too dark, and it makes it difficult to admire the cornicing and artwork on the walls. It takes the eye away from the fireplace, too, which is a lovely feature. So, with the lighter colors you get a feel for how spacious the room really is, show off the original features of the room and give it a clean, more modern look that’ll appeal to guests.”

  “And this?” he asked, pointing at another image.

  “Stationary. The place would need a new logo, something a bit more in keeping with the boutique hotel feel we’re trying to create, and the stationary, guest information packs, menus and everything will have to match. Branding is important when it comes to advertising.”

  “Uh huh,” he said, continuing with his breakfast.

  I took the opportunity to eat some more and clicked on another open tab. “This,” I said after swallowing quickly, “is a company who provides custom pillows. The idea is that each guest has a tailored sleep experience, starting with their pillow. Most people probably wouldn’t even think about it, but if you offer them a pillow menu and they choose the lavender and chamomile scented pillow, they get a sense of being catered to. It’s the same with the complimentary toiletries.” I clicked another tab that showed a pretty little gift box tied with a silver ribbon. “Each room has one of these. This is just an example, but you could source the products to be locally hand-crafted, eco-friendly, and the best part? The guest keeps it.”

  Now he was looking at me like I was insane.