by Ruby Rowe
He licks me again, and I’m about to come when he lets me go and steps away. His mouth is soaked as he wipes it with the back of his hand. “Since you want to be punished so badly, you can hold on to that orgasm a little longer.”
I whimper, and my body quivers from the need to come. Every part of my pussy throbs, the ache spreading up throughout my pelvis.
“Please, Sir, make me come.”
“No.” Unhooking the restraints from the dangling chain, he unbuckles them, freeing my wrists. “Walk over to the bed, and bend over it.” His command sets my skin on fire, and the bundle of raw nerves beneath tingle.
I hurry to the side of the bed, eager to do what he wants so I can come as soon as possible. Clutching the back of my neck, he braces me and connects his palm to my ass. My face buries in the comforter, trapping my moans.
He spanks me several more times, but I lose count as I’m swept up in a violent storm. I’m swirling inside a funnel of delirium. It’s a brilliant chaos in my mind, an internal scream belting from my soul.
“Fuck, your scarlet ass has me so turned on.” Pinching my neck more firmly, he grips my waist and stands me up. “On your knees, my Rose. Suck my cock now. Make me come, and I’ll do the same for you.”
“Yes, Sir,” I say as breaths burst in and out of my lungs. Willingly, I kneel in seconds, and having the green light to touch him, I clench his ass cheeks and bring him closer.
Sliding my lips over his rigid cock, I take each glorious inch in my mouth slowly … tauntingly. He hisses and shoves his pelvis farther against me.
Gathering all my hair, he twists it around his hand and tugs so hard that I feel the pull and sting at the sides of my face. I don’t let up, though, and suck his dick, dragging my lips firmly up its thickness.
Every groan from him eggs me to continue. “Earn your orgasm, Camilla. Bury me so deep in your throat that you gag. I want to hear you gagging on my cock.”
Gasping from his erotic command, I do as he orders and open my mouth wide until the thin corners of it stretch and burn. I take him deep until I’m gagging, and rather than feeling humiliated, I experience only pride. His growl exposes the ecstasy he’s drowning in; a euphoria I created.
Thrusting forward, he clamps down on my hair and explodes in my mouth, shooting his cum down my throat. He convulses to the point I grip his ass to keep him from stepping back.
“Fuuuck, baby,” he yells. I wipe my mouth and stay kneeling as he massages my scalp, making up for the hair-pulling, which I secretly love. “Lie on your back on the bed. I’m licking you until you’re screaming fuck, too.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m on my back in a heartbeat, and he yanks me to the edge by my ankles. His mouth covers my swollen bundle of nerves, and he blows his searing breath on it.
I arch and strangle the bedding with my hands as my nails bite into my palms. He languidly licks and flicks his tongue, delivering delicious sensations before taking them away.
He leads me to the cusp only to pull me back again, the torment yo-yoing me between heaven and hell. It’s tantalizing one second and torturous the next.
“Please, Sir, just make me come.” Growling, he licks me faster and slides a finger down my slick crack until he reaches my asshole.
“Wrap your hand around your necklace.” Carefully, he dips his finger inside, pushing it in, and I writhe. “Come now, my Rose.” I’m done. Shattered. Crashing into the oblivion, the most vulnerable state of all.
“That’s it. Ride it out. Next time, I won’t need to touch you with my mouth or my hands to make you come. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sasha
Today I’m working alone in what Rhonda calls the multi-purpose room. Copiers are on the left after you enter, and straight ahead are two work tables, which I’ve been sitting at today.
I just finished putting sticker labels on file folders so they’ll be ready when the company acquires new clients. Now, it’s time to file one of eight enormous stacks of papers that Rhonda let pile up on the table.
I pick up one I’ve already alphabetized and walk to the file cabinets behind me. There’s a long row of them horizontally that create a barrier in front of the bookshelves that are beyond that. I call it the library section since there are six rows of them running vertically.
Filling the shelves are rows of books and binders that are mostly about the laws in our country. Who knew there were so many? I’ve flipped through one or two of the books, and the fact Greyson can make sense of them reaffirms how smart he truly is.
I have no desire to be an attorney, but I do wish my job was more challenging. I was terrified to work here, certain I’d feel stupid, but the duties are simple. They’re so easy that after only a few days, I’m bored.
Since I’ll be filing the next two hours, I stick in my headphones, find a pop channel on Pandora and slide my phone between my thin tan belt and short green dress.
I guess I should see about getting my own phone plan soon. It’s another bill Camilla’s been paying for years. She couldn’t afford it, but she feared she’d never reach me if I didn’t have one. I feel shitty for that. I would disappear for weeks at a time whenever I was hitting the drugs hard.
She must’ve worried so much, but during those times, I didn’t want to talk to her. Seeing her meant having to stay clean. That equated to living with horrific memories in a sober state.
The only reason I’m able to right now is because I’m getting help and staying busy. Oh, and I have a shiny new toy to look at, Greyson. It sucks that I can look but not touch, and it’s embarrassing how I’m his and Ellis’s charity case.
Greyson probably thought he needed to watch television with me to make amends for when I walked in on him and Whitney. Or, maybe it’s because he wants to help me stay clean.
Regardless of the reason, I don’t want them to feel obligated, so that’s why I stayed out with my sister the other night and Terrence all evening yesterday. I’m trying to give Greyson the space he needs and deserves.
Opening the first metal cabinet, I start the monotonous task of filing papers away in the letter A folders. I’m singing, bobbing my head, and I can’t help but shake my booty a time or two while I’m at it. I need some sort of excitement while I do this boring job.
I move to the letter B and come out of my skin when someone grabs me by the shoulder. I spin around, and Greyson is laughing, so I yank out an earbud and grimace.
“You can’t deny it any longer. You take pleasure in scaring the crap out of me.”
“I haven’t intended to, but I can’t lie; it’s entertaining when your eyes grow that round. You’re a great dancer, by the way, but I wouldn’t take up a career in singing.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear me.” I punch his arm as heat travels all the way to my cheeks.
“That song sounded familiar and super annoying. Who’s the artist?”
“It’s Justin Bieber, and I happen to love him and his songs.”
He rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, tell me now.”
Shoving his hands inside his pockets, he shrugs.
“You act younger than your age, but in a cute way. I mean, it’s not a bad thing.”
Wow, I can’t count the times I’ve heard those words from my sister or counselors, or deadbeat boyfriends.
“Did you need something? If not then I should get back to work.” He touches my arm, but I step back. “I told you not to touch me, yet you continue to do so.”
“Sasha, I wasn’t trying to insult you about the age thing. I like that you’re not so serious. Being an attorney, I deal with stuffy and serious every day. It gets old.”
“Did you need something?”
“Yes. Are you coming home after work?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me, and stop giving me attitude. I’m still your boss.”
&
nbsp; I sigh. “If you’re having a girl over, or that Whitney, and need me to disappear, I can find something to do. It’s no problem at all.”
“Jesus, no chick is coming over.” As he grows increasingly frustrated, he rubs his forehead, and I don’t get why when he’s the one who insulted me. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Why?”
Looking to the ceiling, he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.
“Can’t you just smile and be excited I have a surprise for you like other women would do if I told them that?” His pouty expression should take away from his sexiness, but it doesn’t.
“Aww, does your ego need stroking?”
He slides his gaze back to mine, and it’s suddenly smoldering. “Don’t use that word.”
“What word? Ego?” Yes, I’m playing the clueless card here because if not I might hyperventilate over the instant sexual fog we’ve entered.
“Look, are you coming home today or not?”
“Yes, sir. See you then.” I pop my earbud back in and expect him to leave, but his eyes linger several seconds until I’m forced to turn away from him to file again.
The moment I know he’s gone, I lean my head against the cool metal of the cabinet and take deep breaths. Given the opportunity, most women would fall for him. He can’t be blind to the fact, so why won’t he leave me alone?
***
On the way to Greyson’s, I’m nervous about the evening. He left the office before me, which hasn’t happened this week, so I’m curious as to why.
I park his BMW in the lower-level garage and take the elevator up. As soon as I step into the foyer of his penthouse, I smell something delicious, and I’m like a dog on the hunt for scraps as I follow the scent right to the kitchen.
Greyson is pulling a sheet pan from the oven, so I admire his muscular thighs as his legs bend in his jeans. He changed into a black t-shirt, too, and his bicep flexes as he sets the pan on the stove. Moving here was such a bad idea.
“Hi,” I say.
“Do you like hot wings?”
“Yes.” I stroll over and snicker once I spot the sloppy mess of them.
“These chickens are lucky enough to swim in my homemade secret sauce.”
“Don’t you mean their wings? Do you love cooking?”
“Hell, no, but being a single guy, I have to fend for myself occasionally. I came up with the sauce when my buddies were coming over to watch football once.”
“How can I help?”
“There’s potato salad in the refrigerator that Theresa made. It should still be good.”
“I’m starting to feel like I’m living in the south again.”
“I heard Camilla say you’re from South Carolina.”
“Uh, you have so much stuff in here. I can’t get over the amount of food in this place for only one person.”
“Two people, and I think you’re trying to change the subject.”
“Yes, I’m from there, but I haven’t been back in years. Where do you keep your plates?”
Greyson points, and it’s quiet as I set the two-person table in his kitchen. “What would you like to drink?”
“With wings, I need beer. Wait. I’ll have tea.”
“It won’t bother me if you want a beer.”
“No, I want tea.”
Striding back to the fridge, I bring out a pitcher of iced tea. I pour us both glasses at the counter, and as soon as I take a sip, I want to spit it out.
“Oh, this is terrible. There’s no sugar in it.”
“Yes, there is.”
“You call this sweet?” His arm brushes against mine as he points next to me.
“There’s a container of sugar in that cabinet that I use for coffee.”
His face is so close to mine, and instead of turning my head toward the direction I should, I turn to look at him. His eyes remind me of tropical waters I’ve seen on TV shows, and I’d like to drown in them.
He’s eyeing mine, too, and then my lips, so I quickly turn to the cabinet. I grab the small container and laugh.
“This is not going to be enough.”
“There’s a bag of it in the pantry.” While he dishes out our food, I make sweet tea that reminds me of home. Once I’ve stirred it good, I pour fresh glasses and take them to the table.
“Here, try this. It will give you a taste of the south.” Cocking an eyebrow, he takes a long drink and smacks his lips together, making the funniest surprised face. I take a drink, too.
“Damn, there’s just the right amount of diabetes in here,” he says. Losing it, I shoot tea from my mouth and nose. I laugh so hard that tears run down my face. This is embarrassing but couldn’t be funnier. Grabbing napkins from the table, I dry my skin. My nose burns, making my eyes water further.
“Oh, that was hilarious, but my nostrils are on fire.” Greyson gets a roll of paper towels off his kitchen counter, and we both get down on the floor to clean up the mess I made.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. I’m glad someone finds my jokes funny. Someone else would’ve told me to grow up. Actually, she would’ve never put sugar in my tea.”
“Whitney…”
“I shouldn’t have brought her up.”
“Why? She’s obviously a part of your life.”
“Unfortunately. Uh, you have tea on your dress.” Without warning, Greyson dabs at the front of it, just above my boobs. I glance down, and his hand freezes. “You look pretty today. Green’s your color.”
“Thanks.” Hurrying to my feet, I go to the trash can and discard the wet napkins I was holding. “I don’t know how I made that big of a mess. Are you ready to eat?”
He gives me a puzzled look. “Yeah, sure.”
Dinner is awkward and quiet, and I’m self-conscious over how messy the wings are.
“You won’t let me in,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t talk to me like friends usually do.”
“We haven’t been friends long, and I’m not used to sharing my personal business with people. I’m not supposed to.”
“See, right there. What does that mean?”
“I have an upsetting past that I’m not comfortable talking about, and you didn’t want to talk about Whitney, so what’s the difference?”
Wiping sauce off his hands, he leans back in his chair.
“All right. I’ll tell you about her, but then you have to answer one of my questions. Agreed?”
“OK...”
“Her grandfather owned a business with my grandfather, and now our fathers share ownership of it. Our parents decided it would be perfect if Whit and I fell in love and married so our families could have the ultimate empire. I didn’t know all this back then.” He laughs. “I just thought damn, she’s hot, and sure I’ll date her.
“We fell in love, but once we went to college, things changed between us. Honestly, I stopped liking her as a person. Then, I realized I never loved her the way you should love the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.
“The problem is that our families feel differently. Everyone besides me still wants us together. My brother, Lawrence, got to marry who he wanted since he joined the family business, but since I chose a different career path, I’m expected to marry Whit.
“It was supposed to happen years ago, but I’ve put it off as long as possible, hoping she’d bail on the deal first.” Greyson tosses his napkin on his plate. “No such luck, so my time at running is over. I have to get engaged very soon.”
“Damn. That’s deep and depressing.”
“No, shit.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re an adult, and this is America. You don’t have to agree to some arranged marriage.”
“I do if I want to maintain a decent relationship with my family.”
“It seems like they’d get over it.”
“I thought that, and it’s why I’ve held out as long as I have, but my father has only grown more demandin
g about it.”
“I can’t judge you since I’m not in your shoes, but there’s no way in hell I’d agree to something like that.”
“All right, it’s time for your question. Why the fake ID?”
Laying my napkin down, I stare out the window in his kitchen. We’re high off the ground, and it makes me feel physically safer, but it can’t erase the haunting memories of my past.
“I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this...” I shake out my sweaty hands. “OK, here goes. Rose is not my last name. It’s an alias Camilla and I use to keep me safe from people who could hurt us and destroy our lives, my sister’s in particular.”
“That’s still code. I don’t understand, and what’s your real last name?”
“I answered your question. I told you why I have a fake ID, and that’s all I can share.” I won’t put my sister’s freedom in jeopardy by telling him the whole truth. Liam’s not losing his mother because I trusted the wrong person.
“Fair enough, but don’t forget that I’m persistent.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Are you finished eating? I want to show you something, along with your surprise.” To tease him for earlier today, I clap my hands and bounce in my chair.
“Oh, I love surprises. You’re the sweetest guy ever, and I can’t believe you’d do something for me. How did I get so lucky?” Batting my eyelashes, I giggle.
Greyson rolls his eyes, and his cheeks redden.
“Real funny. I can think of something that needs to be stroked, but it’s not my ego.”
Oh, my god, did he just say that out loud?
“Uh, sorry. I guess that was out of line.” To make things less strange than they’ve already been this evening, I swat my hand toward him.
“Hey, it’s fine. We’re friends, and friends should be able to crack jokes with each other, even crude ones.”
“I guess that’s true, but you’re not one of the guys.”
“It’s cool if you treat me like one, though. Now, show me my surprise.”
Greyson
Sasha follows me to the living room and comes to a stop once she spots the new leather sectional.
