by Susan Arden
“I already went over the list of clothing.” I leafed through the checklists, looking for the one entitled “Apparel.” That one had a steep learning curve attached. There was a tremendous difference between Graham’s bedroom dress code and regular clothing. I displayed the list. “Are you referring to fetish fashion?”
His eyes warmed and sharpened. “Hopefully there are several things you found appealing.”
“I take it you like those types of outfits.” The slick forms of fetish fashion I’d viewed provided a stark revelation of the type of sport kink could become with willing players.
Graham returned to the sofa, sitting down before he steepled his fingers. “I do. On you, they’d be memorable, but it’s not a requirement. I want you dressed appropriately, both in and out of the bedroom. That’s precisely why I want you to meet Marie. Tomorrow and onward, you’ll visit the stores that cater to what’s required. She’ll take you to designers specializing in the latest trends suited to our needs.”
Marie is taking me shopping for fetish. A woman I don’t even flippin’ know. “What do you mean? Our needs? And how much does Marie know—about this side of you?”
He had his legs kicked up on to the cocktail table in front of him. One by one, he let his feet thud to the floor, his legs splaying open as he leaned forward. “She understands I want you dressed impeccably. Nothing more.”
“Okay. But what about places to shop? Is she the person who decides?”
“You’re free to go wherever. She has experience in dressing for the media. And on that front, don’t imagine you’ll be doing me a favor by finding something on sale. I was serious when I said you’d be with me for social engagements and, for my benefit, listen to her advice. We don’t need press headaches. I promised to take care of the PR, but you’ve got to do your part. That means being prepared when the press is involved. With a body like yours…Jesus, your best weapon is elegance. No one will ever fault you for having good taste. Do you understand me, Eliza?”
He rose and came around the desk. I wasn’t the type who watched award shows, and don’t ask me what type of dresses celebrities wore waltzing down some red carpet. All my worst fears cropped up as I realized that would be me, or rather us, by the end of the week. I tapped my fingers, no longer worried about Marie. Or fetish clothing—those would be cloistered in a bedroom, in a locked closet. But out in public and on Graham’s arm, I’d be highly visible. Laura and Luke would see me. What the heck have I signed up for?
I once more glanced down at the trash, taking in the smile the woman wore. A million dollar grin. Obliviously, she’d been gifted with brains and beauty. She appeared poised, as did Graham. There wasn’t a look of fright plastered on their faces, which I could well imagine would be on mine. I clasped the armrests and swiveled back and forth on the leather seat.
Without a warning, he swung the chair to face him, and I gulped in surprise. My legs were still crossed tightly at the knee, and, I’d woven my ankle around my calf in a sitting eagle pose. I gaped up at him, absorbing the intense heat from his gaze trained at my lap.
“Having trouble? You didn’t answer me.” He leaned over the chair.
“Yes—I mean no. You want me well-dressed.” I barely breathed, consumed by his nearness. “Does it get easier? The press, I mean.”
Inhaling, he must have understood my distress. “You’re a beautiful woman, and God only knows what suck-ups the press can be. All you have to remember is they’re trying to capture an image, and they’d sell their collective souls to get something worthy to pimp. Give them what they want, and you’ll find them less of a threat.”
“I’m confused. So, now you’re saying to cheese it up for them.”
His smile tightened. “We can’t avoid the press, so try and keep them from becoming adversaries. They’ll put you and everyone who they can sell in a category. Then they keep coming back to fuel the fire that sells more stories. You have power and can decide what category they’ll tack onto you. Remember that.” He slowly brushed aside my bangs. “Beautiful, who do you want to be? This is your moment to decide.”
“So, it all comes down to being well-dressed like some type of doll.” I fumed at the idea of being an empty-headed dummy that he might cart around.
“Eliza, I didn’t make the rules,” he said, his tone turning terse.
“No? But you’re not doing anything to change them either.”
“Right now, it’s not arguable, and it’s another waste of time. Plain and simple, the press is a resource as far as business branding; one we can’t dismiss. If you want to know my thoughts on clothing, more than dressed in some chic outfit for the media, I want you accessible to me. Like now, I wish those damned panties you seem too eager to wear were removed and your legs were wide open to me.” My eyes fell to his crotch and the straining bulge housed behind his zipper.
The problem of the press was still out there. But with Graham’s attention to detail, I deduced, he wasn’t one to let things slip aimlessly by. Instead of gaining comfort from the idea, I felt even more stressed. He’d expect me to show up and have my own version of a million-dollar grin. Now, me trying to push aside this ‘fruitless’ worry he pointed out became next to impossible. Even though I trusted him about what he said media-wise, he wasn’t a superhero who had a closet full of press-ready personas I could instantaneously slip into and everything would be hunky-dory. I’d still have to get it together come Friday. Hickory dickory dock.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he murmured.
“Time. I need to alert my sister that I might be more than a yoga teacher to you.” When I’d left Miami today, Laura and Luke were still under the yoga teacher impression, thanks to me not alerting them to any other possibility and my refusal to allow Graham to come over and meet them. To say my departure was smooth would have been a bald-faced lie.
“What will you tell her?” he asked.
I had no idea with him staring down at me like he’d eat me, clothing and all. I’d think of something—had to think of something besides a set of consuming thoughts all centered around him. His eyes slid to my lap. “Answer me.”
“Umm.” It was my turn to torture him. “Why do you care?” I asked as I uncrossed my legs.
“I gave you a directive about answering my questions. Do you need help following my directions?” he inquired dryly. “You’re done with the list. According to the agreement we signed, the contract is now in full force.” His deep voice slithered up my spine.
“And what do you propose?” I pulled up the hem of my skirt. “Because you mentioned my panties. Did you want to see the color of them or is it the style that interests you?” I inched up my skirt until my panties were visible.
“Baby,” he whispered. “Show me what I want to see and answer the fucking question.”
“I honestly don’t know what I’ll say. Now, about what you’d like to see? Did you mean this?” I opened my legs wide and slid aside the material between my legs, displaying my pussy.
The cool air swirled at my folds, making me conscious of the exposure. His pupils dilated fully, and he glanced down to where my fingers touched. I softly gasped, flicking my finger across my pert clit. I sucked on my bottom lip, the coil of need getting stronger with each stroke. I swiveled my hips erotically, watching his reaction. Graham swallowed, staring at my fingers. The effect of him poised—unmoving like a spring ready to snap—had me biting my lip.
“No argument that what you’ve got between your legs is highly interesting to me.” His eyes returned to my face before dipping between my legs once more. “Are you finished with your research?”
“All. Done.” I exited the last website before pushing back in the seat as I swirled my finger over my clit.
Graham picked up checklists and agreements, and his keys jiggled as he unlocked one of his desk drawers and set them inside. “You owe me a session. You agreed to almost everything, doctor’s appointment and birth control included.”
“I didn’t want excus
es,” I countered. “You owe me something, Mr. Gordon. Don’t you?”
“Indubitably, Miss Hillwood. Looks like another meal will be delayed because of your wanton urges.” He placed his hands on either side of the arms of the chair. Leaning down, he kissed my lips mercilessly, using his teeth and tongue to gain entry into my mouth.
I was determined not to make it easy for him. I turned my face away from him during the middle of the kiss. He cupped my chin and jerked my face back to his mouth. I took his bottom lip between my teeth and this time, I bit down with enough pressure to let him know I meant business.
He pulled his mouth away, not far, inches as he channeled his fingers through my hair and pinned my head back against the chair. “You want it rough tonight?” His voice was husky and his hand cupped my breast, flicking over my erect and sensitive nipple.
I lifted my chin, meeting his unspoken challenge with a defiant look, unable to suppress or attempt to hide the bubbling hunger to test his authority. I aimed to let him know his education this afternoon wasn’t lost on me, but still I wasn’t about to fall at his feet.
“Yes,” I allowed. “That’s if you’re able.” The erotic submissive acts I’d spent hours viewing had saturated my thoughts, but I couldn’t undo my nature to push this man’s buttons.
His brows pulled together. “Oh, baby. Are you sure you want to open that door?”
“I think we both want it unhinged. Wouldn’t you say?”
Graham tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled as he pinched my nipple. “I know I do. We’ll see about you. This week, you’ll have an appointment with a doctor. Lord, I’ve wanted to feel you on me. Soon, no more condoms, and I’ll slide into you with your juices flowing over my cock.”
“Just your cock?”
“Eliza, take care with how much you tease. I’ll take you up on what you offer. I have an arsenal of goodies upstairs and I’m eager to instruct you on their uses.” His voice cut out into rumbling growl. “You’d tempt a saint. If you mean my promise, you’re right. I vowed I’d take your ass the next time you had an issue. You did, and I’ll deliver on my promise.”
I swallowed convulsively. “I’ve never done that.”
“No worries. I’ll take care of you. There’s tremendous pleasure from that type of sex. For both us. I want to own your body tonight. You’ll submit to me. Entirely.” He lifted me out of the chair and his hands slid over my body, stopping to cup my ass cheeks. He squeezed, scrapping his chin across my cheek and capturing my mouth, kissing me as deep as he intended to fuck me.
The familiar rocket launcher, ready-set-go thrill raced through my body. I remembered the locked set of doors upstairs, and pulled back, leaning against the desk. “Does my submission only take place behind the bolted doors you have upstairs?”
He laughed. “Ah, so you did explore the house. Yes, our bedroom is where many of your lessons will take place. Many, but not all. If you’re not careful you might get spanked over my knee right here,” he said, tilting his head inches above mine.
His hands roved upward to the buttons of my blouse, and then there was the sound of tearing material. Buttons flew over his desk, falling and skittering across the floor. His mouth crashed down upon mine, rough and unrelenting.
“Graham,” I said in a rush. His name was quickly becoming my mantra, the thing repeated over and over to ease the pain of life—an exercise to curb my body and mind into stillness. “Please,” I moaned as his hands wedged apart my legs.
“God, I need to be inside you.” He brought me against him, our bodies melding perfectly. Even with him clothed, we fit. “I want to hear you moan, whimper, call out my name as you come.”
Our mouths collided, and we resembled two pieces of warmed caramel when the flame got turned way up. I returned his demanding kiss with my own version of insistent complete with bites to his lips as the critical boundaries between us erased. His mouth emptied me like some sort of a lever of release. I closed my eyes, running my hands up his sculpted arms and curling my fingers around his neck, pressing my breasts hard against his chest.
There wasn’t enough air in the room, and it wasn’t in my imagination as we both gasped for our next breath. My shirt was tattered and lying on the empty chair. Graham turned my body as he moved behind me, guiding me forward.
His mouth found my neck as his hands possessively cupped my breasts. “These are mine,” he growled. For several long seconds, he sucked on points of my skin as his fingers rolled and pinched my nipples. I reached for him, grazing my fingers down his hard-on, squeezing him in a grip until he grunted hoarsely and bit the shell of my ear. “Remember what I said about teasing.”
“As you should recall what I said about hard and especially rough,” I replied flippantly.
In a breath, he spun me around and our gazes locked. “Each word. Spoken and unspoken rings loudly in my mind and body. Let’s go.” He guided me out of his study and into the hall where he kept me pressed to his side by his muscular arm, encircling my waist.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We walked up the front staircase, our footsteps cushioned by the silk carpets covering the hardwood floors. The wide stairs came with a scrolling banister on one side. On the other was a wall divided by wainscoting on the lower portion where several large paintings were hung above, leading upstairs. The chandelier gleamed in the entry hall as we reached the top stair and continued along the silent hall. My heartbeat thudded evenly behind my ribcage until we came to the huge twin double-doors, and Graham flipped aside a small panel on the wall.
My heart tip-tapped and I sank my hand down the front of his trousers, curling my fingers around his erection. He sucked in a breath, his stomach muscles tensed, and his eyes flashed to mine. I yanked on his cock. Hard.
“Jesus,” he swore and responded by pivoting me around until I was pressed against the wall. He pulled and trapped my nipples between his fingers, staring down at me as I began stroking him to the beat of the pulsations between my legs. He closed his eyes for a second before he refocused on me, his breath scalding my cheek. “This is more than a doorway into our bedroom. This is the first step you’ll take to getting to know who you are to me and to yourself, Eliza. Don’t try to hide. There’s nowhere to run. Understood?”
“Yes, I can handle it. I have no intention on running,” I answered, my heartbeat betraying me.
One of his hands rose from my body, and I heard a beeping. I glanced over to watch him press a security keyboard that dimly glowed on the wall. I hadn’t noticed the panel before and stopped thinking about it when he turned the handle and pushed one of the massive doors open.
Graham took hold of me by my arms. “Every journey begins with a step…You’re not alone, Eliza.”
I removed my hand from inside his pants and gazed at the threshold of his bedroom, swallowed and licked my lips. He tilted his head, waiting for me.
“No turning back,” I murmured, stepping through the doorway.
Inside was nothing that I would’ve imagined. The furniture was far from colorful or colossal. The whole room was done in muted tones of deep midnight gray, champagne beige, and a pale blue. Silk, antique area rugs in muted colors covered the dark hardwood floors. There was a sitting area off to one side with a deep gray leather sofa and a low cocktail table. His bed was another version of a platform; this one was low to the ground. Nothing whispered kink. There were no metal eye-rings or bolts sticking out of the wall. The bed was without posts and had only a deep gray leather padded headboard which matched the color of the sofa. The surface was composed of a repeating diamond design—nothing gothic or outrageous in sight. The ceilings soared with hidden lighting that wasn’t on at the moment. Drapes framed the three tall windows at the far end.
He followed my attention across the room and tugged me toward the windows. “It’s perfect weather to enjoy the garden. From what I can tell, you like being outdoors. Come see the city and your garden below. All waiting for you,” he murmured, piloting me across the room and
to the center window.
“You’re correct. I prefer the outdoors.” The view overlooked the courtyard enclosed by a tall brick wall below. I imagined an alley on the other side of the high wall. A bright yellow bird caught my attention. Then another. “You have a feeder?”
“Is that so unusual?” he asked, coming to stand behind me and pulling me against him. Another brownstone, across the alley, was too far away to see more than the windows facing us. Perhaps with the lights on at night, we’d more than likely draw the curtains.
I turned to him, my brows coming together as I raised my hands to his chest, and looked off to the side, at the area before us. Another perfectly appointed room. Neat and tidy and devoid of anything outlandish. Barely anything that belied his presence. A watch lay on one of the nightstands. A small, empty porcelain dish on the bureau. A book on the cocktail table. I struggled to find Graham’s mark inside this room. “This is what you have locked up. Why?”
He arched a brow. “Privacy. I like what’s mine to be mine.” Graham’s gaze flicked down my body, a visceral pull, and I melted inside.
It wasn’t a new concept, but this room was hardly worthy of a lock and key unless there was more. “I see, but not really. Your office, is that locked when you’re away as well?” His hands were at my waist, squeezing my hips.
Graham inhaled. “Sometimes it is. There was a security breach a while back. I saw no reason for a repeat of the event, considering I have access to high tech security systems, and that type of press is what sells news and gossip.” His fingers unzipped my skirt, and he let it fall to the floor.
“Why do you have faith in me not to go running to the press?”
“Simple. I trust you and the employment contract we signed.” He shot me a look, and his brows snapped together. “You wouldn’t. It’s not your nature, to spill. Is it?”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Ah, Eliza. My little dove. I make it my business to understand people.”
I stood in heels before him, and he began to unbutton his shirt. His gaze never left my face. “In case you’re interested, yes, I’m a big fan of lingerie. The kinds with frill, and with you, I’d relish unwrapping you over and over as my own personal, erotic gift. And with regards to shoes, I’d prefer to see your toes whenever possible.”
