The Terms: Part One (The Terms Duet)

by Ruby Rowe

  Rising from his desk, he strides around it with purpose and grabs my hand. “Come with me.” Leading me down the hallway toward my bedroom, he stops at the door before it and opens it.

  “Chris didn’t show me this room. What’s in it?”

  “Your study. You’ll need a place to do your schoolwork for that worthless degree you’re determined to get.”

  Snatching my hand away, I follow him inside, and the door shuts behind us.

  “And as I said before, it’s not worthless.” Like when I first saw my bedroom, I’m stunned and in awe over the decorated space. “Ellis…”

  Taking a few steps forward, I admire a beautiful white desk in the back center of the room. It sits on an oriental rug covering the light cherry wood floor.

  On my right are two darling yellow wingback chairs in front of rows of bookshelves that rest against the wall. There are tall shelves to the left, as well, every one of them filled with books.

  The study is painted a milky white, and splashes of yellow décor light up the space. It’s cheerful, airy and adds to the array of mixed signals from Mr. Ellis Burke.

  “I didn’t know what you liked to read, so I purchased a variety of genres. There are classics, along with new novels, but Christopher will order whatever you like.”

  “Thank you. Like my bedroom, and the clothing, this is all too much.” Wandering over to the desk, I run my fingers along the solid piece of wood.

  “Oh, and a new laptop and printer are being set up tomorrow.” Turning back to him, I smile, but it dissipates when I recall his job.

  “You’re getting those so you can spy on me.”

  If looks could kill, this one would do the trick. He charges toward me.

  “Young lady, it wouldn’t matter if you kept that piece of shit laptop of yours. I can get inside any computer in seconds.”

  “I, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to seem ungrateful.”

  “Right. You’re only determined to piss me off. If you think being difficult is going to make me change my terms, you can think again. You mouthing off to me only makes me want to punish you more. Don’t move.” He strides to the door and locks it.

  “I should check on Liam,” I say.

  “He’s fine with Irene.”

  Heading back to me, I see the lust surfacing in his gaze. He clutches my hand and pulls me around my desk where he takes a seat in my new tan leather chair.

  For the first time, I’m staring down at him. His hungry eyes tilt up at me, and I suck in a breath. “Strip off your pants, and get down on your knees.”

  “I don’t want to,” I whisper unconvincingly since I’m all kinds of fucked up in the head and have no clue what I want.

  “Bullshit. I’m going to tell you one more time, Camilla, and if you don’t do as I say, I’m going to lay you over this desk and spank you … hard. Now, remove your pants, and kneel in front of me.”

  Swallowing, I unzip my skinny jeans. “Take your panties off, too.” Kicking off my flats, I remove everything he asked me to and lower to my knees in front of him.

  “Your blouse and bra–off.” My hands shake as I bring them up and fumble on the first button. “I want your eyes on mine.”

  On a deep inhale, I steady my fingers and look up at him. His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, and once I’ve undone the last button on my light blue blouse, his gaze drops to my chest. I push the shirt over my shoulders, and before I can let it fall, he swipes it from me.

  My trembling increases as I reach behind my back and undo my lace bra. I drop it to the floor and watch him as he rolls my blouse up into one long, thin piece of fabric. “I’m blindfolding you now.”

  Placing the cloth over my eyes, he ties it securely behind my head. I’m vulnerable, sucking in short breaths and shaking as beads of sweat form above my lip.

  “I sense you’ve never been blindfolded before.”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Not being able to see, my ears hone in on the sound of his belt buckle being undone. I hear the zipper of his jeans slowly lower next, and it incites a chill that skirts across my bare skin. I hate him, so why am I itching with excitement and wonderment?

  It sounds like Ellis sits back down in front of me.

  “Give me your hand,” he orders. I lift my right one, and he takes hold of it. “My Rose … you’re going to stroke my dick, and then you’re going to suck it until I come in your mouth.”

  Gasping, I start to swipe my hand away, but he clamps down on it. “I’m going to ask you a question, and if you’re honest with me, I’ll ensure you come, too. Do you want to suck my cock?”

  “No.” The word flies from my lips.

  “Hmm … I think you have a problem with lying.”

  “I’m not lying. I never agreed to a term like this.”

  I flinch when his fingers graze my stomach and continue moving downward.

  “Last chance to tell the truth. Your pussy’s going to give you away.”

  “I’m not saying it.” In an instant, his fingers push inside me, and dammit, it happens with ease.

  “You dirty little liar. Your cunt is soaked with need, but you’re too damn stubborn to admit it. Fine. You can hang on to all that sexual tension. It can build and build, but one day soon, you’re going to beg me to give you a release.”

  His fingers glide in and out of me, and the sound of my juices moving with them fills the smoldering air. “I know you hear that magnificent sound. Mmm … your pussy’s wet, warm and tight around my digits.”

  Whimpering, I sink onto his fingers and scold myself for enjoying the sensations. “I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me you want this, and I’ll continue until you come.”

  “No. I won’t say it, and you can’t make me.” He stops pleasuring me, and I soon feel how wet his fingers are as he uses them to wrap my hand around his cock. Shit.

  I stroke it, noticing its wide girth and how smooth yet hard it is inside my palm.

  “You’re right, I can’t make you, but if you haven’t noticed, you’re stroking my cock on your own free will.”

  I consider stopping… I do, but I don’t stop, and it’s because this is the hottest fucking moment I’ve ever experienced in my life.

  I didn’t think he could top the sweaty rendezvous in his gym yesterday, but this is winning. As much as my personality is screaming at me not to let him boss me, I’m discovering I like it.

  Running his fingers through my hair, he massages my scalp until my head falls back and lips part for air. “Put your mouth over my cock. Do it now and suck.”

  The emphasis of his last filthy word directs me to do as he commands. My head leans over, and I take his entire long length inside my mouth. In unison with a hiss, he flinches and clamps down on my hair.

  “Yes, like that.” He’s moving my head for me, so I focus on stroking him with one hand while grazing his balls with the other. His pelvis thrusts upward, burying his cock farther back in my throat. I try to relax it so as not to gag.

  He’s so big, and I keep imagining what his dick looks like and how it would feel deep inside me. Pulling back, I trace the tip of the head with my tongue. He groans and shoves my lips back over it.

  I move my mouth faster, up and down, sucking him off until he grunts and stiffens. He comes inside my mouth, and the thick liquid shoots violently to the back of my throat until finally, I swallow it down.

  Every–damn–drop, like it was made only for me to drink. I’ve been thinking he’s the sick fuck, but it’s me. I’m excited over giving him head when he’s blackmailing me to live in his home against my will.

  Pulling on my arm, he signals for me to stand. I’m wobbly until I feel his tongue roll over my nipple. My hands find his shoulders, and I use them to brace myself as he sucks the stiff pebble inside his mouth.

  “Yes,” I say breathlessly. His fingers thrust inside me, and my legs open to give him room. I’m loving every sensation, from his heated mouth to his thick fingers stretching my walls. “Oh, please
don’t stop.”

  As I pant for air and dig my nails into his shoulders, his fingers slip from me.

  No!

  “Stand still.” He moves around me, stirring up a breeze, and it sounds like he’s fastening his pants. Shortly after, he removes the blindfold. My hand shields my eyes as they snap shut from the intrusive light.

  “Let this serve as a lesson not to lie to me. Open your eyes.” I do, and I’m confronted with his penetrating gaze. He’s fully clothed, holding my blouse in his hand. “You can make our years together easy, or you can make them hard. It’s up to you.”

  Grabbing my shirt from him, I hold it over my exposed breasts.

  “Years…? Do you even hear yourself? You’re a handsome and wealthy man who could have as many women in your bed as you choose, probably at once even, yet you’re trying to play house with me in some twisted way.”

  “I’ve already had a plethora of women, and like we’ve discussed repeatedly, I want you and Liam here so he can be raised as a Burke.”

  “Now, you’re lying. You didn’t bring us here so you could get close to Liam. You brought us here because of your desire to use me.

  “You said you were pissed I withheld from Tony that he had a son, but I think you’re doing this to feel like you own what was once his, and it’s all because you hated him as much as he hated you.”

  Turning beet red with anger, he points his finger in my face.

  “I have never felt hatred toward my brother, and you’re lying to yourself if you think Tony gave a damn about you. Not once did he breathe your fucking name to me.”

  Tears come, but I hold them at bay. I don’t know why his words sting. I learned years ago that Tony didn’t give two shits for me, and Christopher confirmed he didn’t care about Liam, either.

  “You’re evil, and although my body may betray me and desire your touch, my heart holds only contempt for you. Get out so I can dress and care for my son.”

  “It’s your last night, Camilla. Tomorrow, I’m turning your ass scarlet.” He storms out, and if I wasn’t so pissed, I’d be a pile on the floor like my clothing.

  The man is all over the place with his behavior and moods, and I’m angry because as much as I wish to hate him, I can’t. He has a reason to feel this desperation.

  He doesn’t remember me, but in the dark trenches of his psyche, he knows I’ve wronged him, so he’s unleashing on me what his subconscious is telling him I deserve.

  I let out a clipped laugh. The man was about to commit treason all those years ago, yet I’m the one feeling guilty and justifying his actions. It’s so typical of me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ellis

  For fuck’s sake that kid has a set of lungs on him.

  Sitting up at the side of my bed, I pull on a pair of sweats, yawning as I go. I stagger out to the hallway and let the noise steer me. As I stroll closer to Liam’s room, I realize it’s not only his cries I’m hearing.

  Camilla is huddled up in a ball on the floor outside his door, and she’s crying right along with him. Fuck. My chest constricts, and a foreign feeling grabs hold of me. Squatting down next to her, I pat her shoulder.

  “Camilla, sit up.” Like it takes all the effort in the world, she drags herself up and leans back against the wall. Her heart is breaking over his cries, and what I can’t handle, or even understand, is the fact mine is breaking, too, over the sounds from both of them.

  Moving her wet auburn hair from her face, I then use my hands to wipe away some of her tears. “I’ll handle this,” I say. Her arms wrap around my leg as I go to stand.

  “No, you’ll scare him.”

  “I promise I’ll be nice.” I remove her hands from my leg. “You have to trust me. If you come in, he’s never going to stop this.”

  “If he cries louder, I’m getting him.”

  Squatting down again, I cup her face.

  “The U.S. government trusts me with their most classified documents. I think you can trust me with my own nephew.” I shouldn’t have shared that, but I’m also half asleep and annoyed that she finds me incapable of caring for him.

  I crack his door open, and he stops wailing. Thinking it’s best not to turn on the overhead light, I walk over to the dresser to my right and click on a table lamp.

  “Momma,” he whines from his bed in the middle of the room. As he adjusts his eyes to the light, he sniffles and coughs. The second those blue irises meet mine, they grow to the size of saucers. “I want my momma.”

  “It’s all right, little guy. Your mom is sleeping. You don’t want to wake her, do you?” He stares oddly at me, probably thinking hell, yeah, I do and debating on whether to yell stranger danger. I guess he doesn’t know what that means, but I should teach him.

  “I thought we’d read a story. Would you like that?” Not waiting for him to tell me no, I walk over to the short bookshelf next to the head of his bed. Pulling out two books, I hold them up in front of him.

  “You get to pick.”

  Smiling faintly, he points to … what the hell? The Poky Little Puppy? “Damn, kid, you do need a male role model. Moby Dick was probably being read to me by your age. OK, then. I guess we’re reading about a poky puppy,” I murmur.

  Glancing around the room, I spot a rocking chair in the corner, so I drag it over next to his bed. “Can I sit here so you can turn the pages for me?”

  Still looking like he’s weighing whether or not to scream, he hesitates before nodding. I’m about to read the first page when I stop and look at him. “Do you remember my name?”

  His finger goes into his mouth as he shakes his head no. His eyes fill with fear, like he’ll be in trouble for not remembering.

  “That’s OK. It’s Ellis, but why don’t we think of a name that will be easier for you to remember? First, what’s your name? Is it Bob?”

  Liam smiles and shakes his head, but he shuts that shit down fast as he recalls I’m still the stranger next to his bed. “Oh, right, it’s not Bob, it’s Carl.”

  He smiles wider this time, his head shaking, and now we’re making progress. “If it’s not Carl or Bob, what is it then?”

  “Liam,” he whispers. His blue eyes stare back at mine, and it’s as if I’m looking in a mirror. The kid couldn’t favor a Burke more.

  “My uncle has a name that only I get to call him because, well, I’m his favorite nephew. Uncle Rich. Do you want a name to call me that no one else can use?”

  He nods, and I wonder if he gets what I’m saying. “Um, let me think...” I consider Z for my middle name, Zander, but I find it more amusing to come up with a nickname Camilla will hate. Boss, maybe? Yes. She’ll hate it, and I’ll love hearing it.

  “You can call me Boss, and you’ll be the only one.”

  He grins, this time showing me his miniature teeth.

  “Boss,” he says.

  “Do you have a nickname you want me to call you?”

  Tilting his eyes to the ceiling, he smiles bashfully and shakes his head.

  “That’s OK. I’ll keep calling you Bob until you think of one.”

  He giggles loudly, and I can’t help but laugh, too.

  “OK, let’s get back to this poky puppy. I’ll make a deal with you; if you go to sleep after the story and stay in your big-boy bed all night, I’ll read you another book tomorrow. Do we have a deal?”

  Still flashing me a smile, he nods and settles comfortably in his bed. He seems at ease, and even yawns, as I start the book. Maybe I’m not so diabolical, as Camilla put it.

  Camilla

  I bite on my nails, waiting to hear another noise from Liam’s room. I’d settled down after discovering how amazing Ellis was treating him, but now it’s quiet in there, and I’m wondering why.

  The door slowly opens, and Ellis slips out. I jump to my feet and look at him. A lamp on a table at the end of the hallway emits enough light for me to see his attractive face and sexy bedhead hair.

  “He’s asleep, and I don’t think he’ll cry again tonight
. You should go back to bed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “I was actually thinking of going downstairs to find a snack. Want to join me?” I shouldn’t have asked. We can’t get along for more than five minutes. Oh, and I hate him–I think. But his kindness and patience toward my little one has tugged on my heart-strings.

  Staring down at me, he scratches the back of his head, likely wondering, too, if it’s the best idea.

  “All right. Lead the way.” As we take the stairs, I imagine how bad I must look, so I comb my fingers through my hair as discreetly as possible.

  We stroll into the kitchen, and as the automatic lights kick on, I once again admire the size of it, along with all the amazing appliances it holds.

  It’s a chef’s dream, and I can hardly wait to bake something. Maybe tomorrow I’ll ask Irene to show me how to operate the two professional ovens.

  “What would you like to drink?” I ask after opening the stainless-steel refrigerator. One side alone of this ginormous box could hold a few people upright.

  “A water is fine.”

  I giggle. “I’m surprised you’re not wanting alcohol after what happened tonight.”

  “I don’t drink. Not ever.”

  “Oh. Can I ask why?” Grabbing a bowl of strawberries, too, I turn around from the fridge with water bottles for the both of us.

  I’m surprised to find him staring right at me as he leans back against the massive grey island. His hands are gripping the edge of it, and I have to take a step back from the sight of him.

  Gulping, I swallow the saliva flooding my mouth. His naked upper body … the large bulge in his sweats…

  I can hear it over the intercom now.

  We need a mop please on aisle Ellis for Camilla’s drool.

  He’s yet another masterpiece in this house to marvel over in the bright light. I have no other words. He lifts his eyebrows and reaches his hand out for the water.

  “Sorry. Why is it again you don’t drink?”

  He smirks. “I haven’t answered you yet.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “It’s simple. I want to be in control of my actions at all times. There are things I know from my job that I can never in my life repeat, and if I got my hands on a computer while under the influence, there’s no telling the destruction I could cause. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that alcohol affects me differently than most people.”