I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t admit that a teeny, tiny part of me almost enjoys making him smile.
I scan the consent form one more time, signing away every part of me and initialing next to the kinds of things I never imagined myself doing in all of my days.
I said I was willing to do whatever it takes, and I meant it.
FIVE
DANE
I hit the pavement with a steady gait, one that leads me to the same bar in which I met Bellamy Miller. The fresh air works like a cold shower, and damn, do I need one. It’s all I can do not to bend her over my knee every time she dares talk back to me.
In all fairness, though, she’s not my sub. Not yet. As it stands now, she’s free to speak to me however she pleases.
This day is going to drag; I can feel it from my clenched jaw to the impatient ache in my cock. Every hour that ticks by until she signs the consent form and N.D.A. will only serve to wind me up. It’s better that I stay away for a few hours. Give her space. Give her time to consider the offer a bit more.
“Mr. Manhattan. Was wondering if I’d see you this week.” Matt, the bartender, greets me the second I step inside.
I slide across a barstool and fix my gaze to a T.V. screen where a commercial advertising some miracle cleaning goop flashes with bright blue and yellow letters. It’s garish and attention seeking, not subtle and inherently elegant.
I like subtle and inherently elegant, and I’ve yet to find a sub with those qualities. I’ve met many subs with daddy issues, subs who crave every kind of abuse, and subs whom I wouldn’t be caught dead with in the light of day. The good ones are always hiding in plain sight.
They’re the sophisticated marketing executive or the wholesome, sweater-wearing kindergarten teacher…
The ingénue drinking champagne on a Tuesday…
I glance to the left, at the very bar stool Bellamy had resided in less than a week ago.
“You want to head back with your drink or you staying up here this time?” Matt nods toward the back room where a plain black door with a glass knocker leads to the Crystal Swan.
Some call it an underground sex club. I call it a secret society, a sanctuary where gentleman of the elite variety can wash away the day’s concerns with a bit of sexual gratification.
A strip club or a brothel it is not.
“Thinking about it,” I say, reaching for the crystal tumbler Matt sits before me. I take a drink and let it sit on my tongue as I contemplate my next move. I could easily head into the club, find a pretty Swan to lose myself with for an hour and retreat back to the office.
But my write up is due for the quarterly stockholders statement by close of business today, and I’ve got a four o’clock phone interview with some solar energy newsletter out of Stockton, California.
Aside from my massive to-do list, I’m not quite feeling the Crystal Swan today.
The same thing happened that day I walked in here. I had every intention of heading back to the club for a bit of escapism, but then I saw her. Long, shapely legs. Fuck me lips. And crystal clear eyes round like two flawless diamonds.
I couldn’t think let alone speak for a solid minute. And when I finally came to my senses, I did what I always do when I need to regain control of a situation.
I became an arrogant asshole.
But then when she mentioned Randy had just hired her, and Randy had told me the week before that he was looking to hire a new submissive sexual concierge, I knew I had to have her. She was all wrong for him and sweet perfection for me.
The crystal tumbler is pressed against my bottom lip before I take another sip. Matt made this one extra strong today as if I walked in here with a big red stamp across my forehead that read, “SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED.”
He knows me well.
“You heading back now?” he asks, pulling the empty tumbler away and tucking it under the bar. “Jenessa’s in today.”
My mouth curls up halfway, but only for a split second. I’m sure as fuck not smiling because of Jenessa.
“You know, I think I’ll pass.”
“No prob.”
I hand Matt a twenty and duck out of the bar, opting for a brisk walk before returning to Townsend Tower.
When I’m back to my desk, I scroll over my email, sorting through them in order of importance and ensuring that the ones marked as high are moved to the bottom. I’ll deal with those last. Only pompous assholes have the nerve to use a little red exclamation point.
My phone rings and the extension allocated to Bellamy’s office flashes on my caller ID.
I cock the phone against my shoulder as I type a response to an email from my brother’s assistant. “Yes?”
“Where’d you go?” she asks.
“I’m not sure that’s any of your concern.”
“I finished the consent form.”
I send the email and sit upright. It’s barely past lunch now, and unrelenting excitement flows through me at the realization that we have the rest of the afternoon to begin our training.
“Bring me the form, Bellamy. And the N.D.A.”
“Now?”
I sigh. “Yes. Now.”
She hangs up, and the ticking of the clock fills the silence that consumes my office until the door flies open. I rise, fastening the button of my jacket and taking careful strides toward where she stands in front of the door. Paperwork rests between her thumb and forefinger.
“I’ll take that.” I place the papers on a nearby console, next to the Baccarat crystal swan I received after completing initiation years ago at the club. “Are you ready to begin training?”
“Yes.” Her lips press together as she tucks a strand of hair behind her right ear. Her ears are bare. I’ll have to fix that. My eyes trail down her long neck, the one I’ll be tasting sooner than later. In a past life, Bellamy had to have been a royal, I’m sure of it. Long neck. High cheekbones. Sparkling gaze.
“Pardon?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Very good.”
I circle around her as if I’m assessing her. And I am. I listen as she pulls in a slow breath.
“Do you have any questions for me, Angel?”
“Not yet, Master.”
I can’t see her face, but if I so much as detect a smile or a hint of laughter in her tone when she speaks to me, I’ll take great pleasure in correcting her the best way I see fit.
“You’ll have a myriad of duties, Bellamy. Behind closed doors, you will submit to me sexually. Professionally, you’ll act as a right-hand associate. And socially, you’ll accompany me to events, dinners, and parties.” I pull her hair from her neck and gather it in my hand, tugging it just enough that her chin lifts. “You’ll carry yourself as if you’re the Queen of England at all times. Head held high. A pleasant expression on your face. The epitome of grace and elegance. You have it in you, Bellamy. I noticed it right away. You just need to own it. And I will help you.”
I release her flaxen locks from my grasp and turn her to face me. The gentle curve of her shoulders under my palms could easily become my new favorite addiction.
“The sexual things you consented to are just a small part of this arrangement. You should know that. I’m a man with a very particular sexual appetite, but it doesn’t define me. And this shouldn’t define you either.”
“It’s just sex. I know.”
“Do not speak out of turn, Angel.”
“I’m sorry.” She holds her shoulders straight though her gaze falls to the floor. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“I’m training you now, breaking you in, but after that, there will be no room for mistakes on your part. Is that understood?”
Her full lips part and then seam together. Instead of speaking, she nods.
“I don’t want you afraid of me. Please. I would feel like a monster if you were terrified of me.” I graze my hand along her collarbone. Her neck is bare, but she belongs in diamonds. “You are mine. It’s my job to spoil you. Care for you. Ensure you hav
e everything you need. The world is your oyster now, Bellamy. You won’t need to ask for a single thing because everything will be provided for you.”
My hand cups the underside of her sophisticated jawline, and I lead her face toward mine, inhaling her in like a full-bodied wine.
“I’m going to kiss you, Bellamy, because I want you to trust me. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Master.”
My lips press into hers, forcing them apart and melding with their heat. Two soft pillows provide a soft landing, and I take what now belongs to me with an overzealous hunger. Our tongues fuse and flick, a slow dance of the most titillating variety. I pull away, licking her exquisite deliciousness from my lips.
“Has anyone ever kissed you that way before?”
Her head shakes from side to side. “I’ve never had a kiss like that before, Master.”
“Then that was your first proper kiss?”
“It was.” Her tongue glides along the inside of her lower lip. “Master.”
“Would you like more?”
“Yes, please.”
“No, no.” I push a firm breath through my nose. “You will ask in the most refined and polite way possible at all times. Try again.”
“Please kiss me like that once more, Master.”
“Better.”
I step into her space again, gripping the back of her neck as I force her up against a nearby wall. My lips crush hers all over again, only this time I’m not hurrying. I’ll take my time, enjoying her sweet flavor and velvet tongue, fantasizing about what she’s going to feel like wrapped around my throbbing cock.
All in due time.
Her hands lift, reaching for my arms, and her fingers press into my flesh with desperate intensity.
“No, no, Angel,” I say, my mouth still locked with hers. I grab her wrists and pull them down to her sides. Before I come up for air, I take her full bottom lip into my mouth and suck before giving a tender bite. “You don’t get to touch me unless I say you can.”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Do you want to touch me?”
I lose myself for a moment in the sky blue haze of her eyes, and then I snap myself out of it. Distractions come in the form of a beautiful woman. It happens. But I refuse to let it tear us out of this perfectly lovely teaching moment.
“Yes.” She squares her shoulders with mine, keeping her arms flat at her sides. Fast learner. Love that. “Please let me touch you. Please tell me how I can pleasure you.”
“Do you want to pleasure me, Bellamy?”
“I live to pleasure you, my master.”
She sounds robotic. Unnatural. And I’m damn sure she’s just telling me what I want to hear because she has no clue how this works.
“I’ve got my work cut out with you.” My forehead wrinkles as I study her pretty face.
“Did I upset you? Am I doing this wrong?” Her shoulders slump. She’s coming out of this like an actor exiting stage left. “I want to learn, Dane. Tell me.”
“You’re doing fine, Bellamy. You’re still learning. I’d just prefer if it felt a bit more…organic on your end.”
“Nothing about this is organic for me.” She sighs like she’s upset with herself. “But I want to learn. I think I could learn to enjoy it.”
I knew training Bellamy would come with a few trying moments, but a woman who’s not desperately throwing herself at me is something I’ve yet to deal with.
“You say that, but your jaw is clenched tight.” I drag my fingertip along her cheekbone and let it fall. “Makes me think you’re telling me what you think I want to hear, and I’m quite certain you know damn well not to do that.”
“I mean it. I’ve never backed down from a challenge, and I’m not about to start now.”
“Not everyone is submissive material.”
I slip one hand in my pocket and head over to my mini bar, pouring myself a finger of single malt Macallan and dropping in a small handful of frozen soapstone.
“I thought you were, but now all I feel like I’m doing is making you extremely uncomfortable. Takes the pleasure out of this if I’m honest.”
“You’ve trained other girls, right? I’m not the first?”
“Right.” I take another sip, letting it burn as it sits on my tongue. After one fiery swallow, I add, “There was something different about you when I kissed you. You kissed me back. You reached for me, wanted to touch me.”
She shrugs. “Isn’t that what happens when people kiss?”
“I felt something from you,” I say. “I don’t want you to get emotionally vested in this, Bellamy. That’s the worst possible thing that could happen for you, and I’m not being glib. The last thing I need is you confusing my kisses with something they’re not. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to come home with you at Easter. And I just can’t do that. I’ll never be that man. Not for you, not for anyone.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flash red. It’s instant. “Oh. No. No, no, no. You do not have to worry about that with me.”
My mouth cracks wide as I enjoy another sip. “If I had a share of Apple stock for every time I heard that…”
“I don’t do love or boyfriends or any of that,” she attempts to reassure me.
“Bellamy, everyone does love.”
Even a cold-hearted asshole like myself has considered it from time to time.
“It’s so far off my radar.” Her hands press against the air. “I promise you, Dane, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Her fingers criss-cross over her heart, and a coy grin claims her pretty mouth. Her crystal eyes soften, and she lowers herself to her knees, tucking the fabric of her skirt over them first.
“Now, can I please service you, Master? It would make me a very happy woman, and there’s nothing more I’d rather do right now.”
SIX
BELLAMY
“Get up.” His command sends a rush of foolish warmth through my body. Either he didn’t buy anything I just told him, or he’s not in the mood. Maybe I didn’t sound genuine enough that time?
I tried.
I put everything I had into it.
I played Mary once in a church Christmas play. All I had to do was hold a plastic baby doll wrapped in muslin and stare at it like it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Three or four lines were all I had, but everyone came up afterward and told me my performance gave them chills.
Guess people need to get out of Whispering Hills more often.
When I rise, I brush my skirt and pull it straight around my waist. Dane seems to look at me as if he’s got x-ray vision that goes clear through to my soul.
“As much as I would love for you to take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours, I don’t want to rush this. It wouldn’t be right, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing my impatience ruined your training.”
That’s a relief.
“So you’ll give me another chance?” I clasp my hands together in prayer formation though I’m quite certain God has no intentions of stopping whatever he’s doing right now to ensure Dane will still keep me as his submissive-in-training.
“Let’s see how the rest of the week goes.” He sets his empty glass on the bar and slinks toward me, never releasing me from his stony gaze. “Grab your bag, Angel, we’re getting out of here for a bit.”
I don’t ask questions. I don’t think a submissive would do that. I simply scamper out of his double doors and duck into my office to grab my purse. He waits as I do it, and when I return, we walk side by side to the elevator.
After a few steps, I slow my pace, stepping behind him.
“What are you doing?” He stops short. I nearly pummel into his backside until the rough carpet catches my heels.
“I thought since you’re the dominant one that I should be walking behind you?”
His mouth curls halfway and he reaches for my hand, pulling me next to him once more. “When we’re out together, whether it’s for work or recreation, you’re to be a
t my right hand. You belong next to me unless I indicate otherwise.”
“Oh.”
He leans into my ear once we approach the elevator. “There are three places in which you will be expected to submit to me unconditionally: my office, my bedroom, and the Crystal Swan.”
“What’s the Crystal Swan?”
“That’s where I’m taking you right now.”
When we reach the main floor, Dane places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me through the swinging doors to the city sidewalk. I take long strides, matching his and elongating my posture.
Queen of England. Okay. I can do that.
We stop a block away, outside the bar in which we met on that fateful Tuesday last week. I don’t take him to be a sentimental man, but I’m not sure why else he’d bring me here.
Dane pulls the door open and ushers me into the cozy space, only the second he brushes past me, he hooks my elbow with his hand and pulls me toward a black lacquered door in the back. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice it before. There’s a clear glass knocker below a peep hole but no other indication that this door leads to some rabbit hole.
He lifts the glass and knocks it back into the wood in a distinct, five-knock pattern. Seconds later, the door pulls open.
“Master Townsend, good to see you.” A man in a tux pulls the door wide. “Ah, I see you’re bringing a guest this afternoon. Shall we find a suite for you and your swan?”
“She’s not a swan, and we won’t be staying long.” His fingers press possessively deep into my flesh though I don’t think he means to hurt me.
It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust when something bright in the center of the room sends a sharp sting to my gaze. The floors are black and white marble, reminding me of a game of chess, and a glass swan sculpture rests on a large table in the center of a circular foyer. It’s lit from below and above with a soft, incandescent glow that shows off the facets and rainbow glimmers in the angles of the sculpted creature. It’s not glass it’s crystal.
Of course.
“I’ll be showing her around, and then we’ll finish in the gallery,” Dane says to the greeter.
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