By the time we reach my door, I hand him back his jacket before I unlock it. “Thank you for dinner.”
“No problem,” he says, lingering.
“Anything else?”
“No,” he says suddenly. “I better get going. Good night.”
“Night,” I say as he hurries off.
Once the door is shut, I lean against it with my eyes closed. “That man is strange as hell.”
First, I kick off my shoes, happy to be barefoot again. Next, I slip out of the dress, tossing it over the back of the couch as I walk into my kitchen. I can always count on there being something good to snack on in there at least. I start to rummage around my cabinets when I hear my phone.
Zoey: How was it? I’m coming over!
I quickly text back that I’m exhausted. Tonight, I don’t want company. I just want a warm bath, something to drink, and maybe a movie before I crawl into bed and curl up. Other than that, my brain feels as if it’s shut off for the night.
“Come on, I know there’s something in here,” I mumble as I search inside of the cabinet.
I hear knocking at the door. Sighing, I close the cabinet door. “Zoey, I just got back in. I told you that I’d call you tomorrow.”
Flinging the door open, I freeze. Standing in the doorway is Connor. He’s holding my clutch out to me, his eyes lazily traveling over my bra and panty-clad body. Although, not in a disinterested way. I can see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
“You forgot this.”
“Thank you,” I say as I snatch the bag away quickly.
“Why don’t you invite me in?”
“No, thank you,” I say curtly as I cross my arms over my chest.
Connor shrugs. “All right then,” he says before he turns to leave.
“Wait,” I say before I even know what to say to him. He turns around. I take a deep breath. “Why do you act like that? You’re so rude all night, then you ask to be invited in? Who does that?”
Connor shrugs. “I could use some company. I guess I’m just not really used to asking.”
If he’s not used to asking, what is he used to, I wonder?
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Definitely.”
“Let’s start over again tomorrow. We’ll just pretend we’ve just met and not be at each other’s throats.”
Connor looks me over. I can almost see the gears turning in his head before he nods. “Okay. Good night,” he says before he turns away.
“Goodnight,” I whisper back.
I close the door and sigh. There’s a part of me that wishes I had invited him in. Still, I’m almost glad I told him no. No one’s been inside of my place in a very long time, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to open up that way again. It’s much easier to keep everyone out.
Chapter Four
“Wrong!”
I sigh before groaning. After a week of looking over Connor’s big, black binder, I still haven’t seemed to retain anything. Usually, my mind can retain things pretty well, but this seems to be the exception. I can tell he’s frustrated by the way he keeps ordering more and more coffee as we sit tucked into the back of the little café.
Groaning, I slam the binder down. “I can’t think straight!”
“You can’t think,” he mumbles as he takes a long, deep sip from his cup.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m trying, okay?”
“If you don’t try harder, I’m going to be out of a substantial amount of money and still not have a solution.”
I blow out a big breath of air. “It’s not that substantial to you,” I mumble.
Connor thinks this over before he nods. “That’s true, but it’s the principle of the thing. Now,” he says as he waves over the waitress, “let’s go over it again.”
Closing my eyes, I try to remember the words on the page. “Your father is Connor Sr. and the president of his company that does something with money…”
“Investments, he does investments.”
“Yes, for his company called Kavanaugh. Your mother is Eileen. She used to be an attorney, but has retired. Now, she hosts social events for charities and things like that.”
“Not bad. Now, who’s Tiffany?”
My mind blanks. “I-I have no idea,” I say as I open my eyes.
Connor groans. “She’s my younger sister! Come on, think!” He thumps my forehead.
“Ow! I said I’m trying.”
“Whatever,” he says as she glances at his phone. “I have an appointment. When I’m done, come here.” He writes down something on a piece of paper before he passes it to me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the address to my place. We’ll continue work there. Eight. Don’t be late.”
I sigh as I watch him slip into his suit jacket before he grabs his bag. He walks out of the café, phone already pressed to his ear. I can hear him yelling before the door closes, cutting off the sound of the outside. My fingers run over the pages of the binder.
“How am I supposed to remember all of this?”
There’s no way that I could. I gather up the binder and my purse. As I walk down the sidewalk, my phone starts going off.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Some of us from work are going for drinks tonight,” Zoey’s says happily. “Want to come?”
As much as I love Zoey, I in fact don’t want to go. Being around Zoey’s lawyer friends makes me feel small, unimportant, and I could never tell them what I did for work. The conversations they have I knew nothing about, so I always just end up feeling awkward and self-conscious.
“I don’t think so. I have to meet up with Connor tonight.”
“You meet up with him every night,” Zoey says, and I can almost hear the grin through the phone. “Why don’t you two just screw already?”
“No thanks,” I say quickly. “I’m trying to keep business and pleasure very far away from each other. Besides, he’s not a nice person.”
“I think you like to exaggerate. I’ve spent more than enough time around him to know that he has a wild side.”
“What do you mean?”
Zoey pauses. “Nothing really. I have to go. Call me later?”
“I’ll try.”
When we hang up the call, I can’t help but wonder what Zoey means. Connor, a wild side? That man seems to have a stick up his ass at all times. I can’t even imagine him cutting loose. Shrugging, I hop into a taxi and head back to my apartment.
I spend the next few hours going over the binder. If I don’t want Connor to bitch at me anymore, I’m going to have to learn a lot faster. There are all kinds of details in the papers, from family connections, to friends, even to memories that he thinks I should know about him. From what he’s told me, it’s not going to be easy to pull one over on his mom or sister. That makes me nervous.
After a while, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore as I curl up on the couch. Turning the TV on, I let the actors in an old black and white film lull me to sleep. As I drift off, I wonder if I can really pull this off.
I open my eyes slowly. I’m groggy, my mind still in a haze as I glance out of the window. The first thing I notice is that it’s dark, very, very dark. Why is it so dark? Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something today? I swing my legs over the couch before stretching. That’s when it hits me.
Connor.
I scramble for my phone. It’s already 9:00. Jumping up from the couch, I start to run around my apartment. I’m an hour late, but he hasn’t texted or called me. He must be pissed.
I’ve begun to notice certain things about Connor. He always drinks his coffee black, he likes expensive cars, when he’s really mad his voice gets quieter, and when he’s pissed off he doesn’t bother texting or calling. I’ve already missed one meeting with him this week. I can’t afford another.
Tossing off the clothes I wore earlier, I dump them into the hamper before I start to jog upstairs. A knock on the door stops me in my tracks. I hope it’s not
Zoey; I don’t have the time for that. Running back down, I pull the door open, sticking my face in the spot between.
“Let me in,” Connor says, looking very calm.
“I’m not dressed,” I say back quickly, hiding my bra and underwear behind the safety of the door.
“I didn’t ask that. I said, let me in.”
“Give me—”
My sentence doesn’t get the chance to leave my mouth. Connor pushes on the door, stepping inside smoothly. He closes the door behind him, sets the lock, and turns to me.
“You didn’t bother to show up.”
“I fell asleep—”
Connor holds up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it. We’ll do this here then.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed, as he sheds his suit jacket. The man loosens his tie before he sits on my couch, one leg crossed over the other. Still gaping, I follow him.
“You can’t just invite yourself into someone’s home.”
“You can if you’ve spent as much money on them as I have,” he mumbles as he flips through the binder. “Let’s get started.”
“I’m going to put on some clothes,” I say as I turn away.
He grabs my arm. I glance back at him. In one hand is the binder that he’s still flipping through, his eyes on the pages in front of him. I give a small tug; his grip tightens.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says as he pulls me over towards the couch. “We’re going to play a game.”
“Are we?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Yes. Sit down.”
I want to be outraged, pissed off, but I have to admit, I’m turned on. The calmness in his voice against the sharpness in his eyes is enough to send shivers up my spine. My heart thumps against my chest wildly as I sit down next to him.
“What kind of game are we playing?” I ask thickly, trying without success to keep my voice from trembling.
“A memory game. If you get something right, you get a treat. If you get something wrong, you get a punishment.”
“I don’t like the sound of this game,” I say, convincing neither him nor myself.
“We’ll see,” he says easily, shifting the binder into his lap.
My heart races. There’s that old friend coming back to the surface. I can’t help but to want it again, to need it. My skin tingles with anticipation at the thought of it.
Pain.
Sweet, sharp, heavy pain. I’ve craved it all of my life, lived for it. Though, there aren’t many men who will do it. I’ve been known to search it out until it was simply unhealthy. For a long time, I locked that side of myself away, kept it in the darkness. Some part of Connor, however, seems to sense it, and he’s bringing it back up without so much as grazing my skin with his fingertips.
“I was born in?” Connor asks, breaking my thoughts.
“Virginia,” I say quickly.
“Right. My first pet?”
“Um…I…” My brain draws a great, big blank.
Connor pulls out a pen and makes a mark on the piece of paper kept in the back of the binder that I’ve been using to keep track of things. I swallow thickly. What is the mark for? I have no idea, but I’m too unnerved to ask.
“My birthday?”
“Um, November! Wait, October? No, definitely November something,” I mumble, trying to sort through my thoughts.
Connor starts to make another mark.
“No, wait! It’s um…November eighth.”
Connor doesn’t say a word as he adds another mark and a check next to the question. It goes on like that, him asking questions, me trying my best to keep up. We work our way through page after page under there’s a row of marks all glaring from the paper. Finally, Connor snaps the binder shut.
“Now you have a better idea of what you have to study,” he says casually. “And you know what you’ve already committed to memory. That should make things a little easier.”
I nod. But my mouth is dry. All I can do is stare at that paper. He notices my eyes settling on it, a big grin slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reaches over, picks up the paper, and shows it to me.
“That’s a lot of marks.”
“Yeah,” I say thickly. “What does that mean?”
“Stand up,” Connor says easily.
My mouth goes dry, but I can’t seem to make my legs work. Connor doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word as he sees me struggle with myself. I swallow before I finally push myself off of the couch. Standing up, even in my lacey underwear and bra, I feel so naked.
“Turn around,” he says coolly.
“Why?” I ask, my thighs squeezing together on their own.
Connor stands up slowly. As he walks closer to me, his fingers trail over my skin. I shudder, stifling a moan. How long has it been since someone’s gotten a genuine reaction out of me? I can’t remember the last time. His hands run down my arms before he pushes me forward. He doesn’t stop until my hands are resting on the coffee table, my ass in the air.
“What are you doing?” I ask nervously.
“Giving you what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“Wrong again,” he mumbles against my ear. “I know what you want, because we have the same desires. The same demons. I can see it in you.”
Bastard. All of the time I spent hiding away from people, and he’s able to see it easily. How? I think it’s the same way I’m able to see it in him. Maybe that’s why I like challenging him so much, pushing so much to see what he will do.
Connor’s hand rests on my back, slides down my skin. I can feel his hand on my ass, the heat of it against my skin making me let out a small moan. He caresses my flesh, squeezes it. I fall into the hypnotic feeling of him caressing me.
Slap!
Suddenly, my ass stings. I can feel it growing warm, tender. Glancing around in surprise, I see that same steady look on his face. Connor raises one eyebrow, as if he’s asking me if I have any objections. Of course, I have none. Instead, I turn back around, place my hands on the table, and prepare myself for another slap of his hand.
Connor takes his time though. He caresses my skin. Slowly, he rubs the stinging pain away until I’m simply warm. I can feel my hips begin to wave back and forth as I wait for it, beg for it. The next blow takes me by surprise once more, and this time the moan tears from my throat.
“Fuck,” I mumble as he rubs my flesh again.
“Hold still.”
Two words. They’re two, simple words, but the weight of those words makes my knees weak. There’s no malice in his voice, no viciousness that indicates that he’s anything but in control. Another blow lands on my skin, making me take in a sharp breath of air. It’s amazing.
“You still have a lot to go. Do you think you’re up for it?”
My mouth doesn’t seem to be working anymore, except to produce moans and gasps. Instead, I nod my head quickly. I don’t want this to stop. Before this moment, I wasn’t aware how much I needed this. More than anything, I needed to feel his hand running over my skin, I needed to feel those sharp, heavy blows from his hand.
The pain soon evolves though. It isn’t just pure pleasure anymore. There’s pain, genuine pain there. I grit my teeth, take my punishment. All the while, my panties are becoming more and more soaked, until I’m pretty sure I’m going to cum if he even blows on my warm flesh.
“Are you going to study more?”
“Yes,” I get out. “I’ll study more.”
“And will you be on time?”
I nod, but that answer isn’t good enough. The rapid fire slaps to my ass make me squeal as I try to hold myself in place. When he’s done, Connor moans.
“Will you be on time?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I’ll be on time.”
“Good girl.”
I don’t know why, but those words make me melt. Connor’s fingers travel over my body until his fingers trail their way between my thighs. I can feel him brush his fingers over my wet panties, his digit
s running casually over my pussy.
“Do you want your reward for the right answers now?”
I nod, but quickly remember how he feels about nodding. “Yes.”
Without warning, Connor pushes my panties aside. His fingers trail over my labia, tickle at my clit until I’m moaning, wriggling my hips, gasping. Then he’s plunging his fingers inside of me. He twists them, pulls them out, slips them in once more. I’m in a sea of ecstasy.
Connor holds my hips in place with his other hand as he explores my depths. I can’t seem to stop moaning. He begins to move his fingers in and out of me, quickly. Moaning, I grip the table as I feel the oncoming wave of pleasure building.
Then he stops. I groan, deep and feral. I’m not used to this amount of pleasure, and to have it denied is a sharper slap than the ones he’s administered to my flesh. When I calm down, he starts up again. Teasing, slowly, he strokes me into a frenzy until I’m gasping, waiting for the climax, when he stops again.
Over and over he does this until I’m a mess of suppressed frustration, bordering on being pissed off. I’m craving it now, that ever-elusive orgasm that not many men have been able to bring me to. Just as I think I can’t take it anymore, he slides my panties down my body. Effortlessly, I kick them off as my bra falls down my shoulders.
“On your knees.”
I drop down eagerly. At this point, I’ll do just about anything to feel release. The warmth of my skin against the coolness of the wooden floor makes me squirm. I want him so bad that it almost scares me.
In anticipation, I watch him undo his belt. As it falls open, my heart quickens. Connor unzips his pants, pushing them down until I can see the black boxers underneath. Slowly, he pushes them down.
I can’t stifle the moans that slip from my lips as I gaze at his cock. Even semi-hard, it’s large. I bite my lip as he runs his hand up and down his cock, teasing me more. There’s nothing I want more than to wrap my lips around his length. As I lean forward to capture him in my mouth, he stops me.
“Manners,” he says quickly. “What do you say when you want something?”
I squirm. Why is he torturing me? Would I like him this much if he didn’t? I gather up the confidence, force myself to get the words out.
BOUGHT: A Standalone Romance Page 4
