Under Contract

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you and the girls moved in. You asked about that earlier. We’d share this suite, which is quite removed from the rest of the house and soundproof. We could steal moments midday like this, to indulge. Play with toys like the chastity belt and other forms of discreet restraint.”

  “All the better to drive me crazy?”

  He couldn’t resist. Going up behind her, he reached around to cup her gorgeous breasts, massaging them through her light T-shirt and bra. Closing her eyes, she shuddered, clutching the vanity table, hot as lava in his hands. He kissed the side of her neck and she moaned, pressing her perfect round ass into his groin. “Yes,” he murmured in her ear, the way that seemed to go right through her. He licked the delicate shell of it. “Meet me here later?”

  “I...don’t know. Depends on what the girls are doing. I’m going to help with dance team practice this afternoon. And Josie has a special art class.”

  “Oh?” Giving her delicious ass a last pat, he went and sat on the couch again, letting her finish her hair. “That’s a new venture, isn’t it?”

  She shook herself, giving him a long look in the mirror, as if reevaluating him. Good. “Yes. Josie asked me to and, as I have quite a bit of free time these days, I said yes.”

  “I think that’s great. You’re obviously a talented dancer and you had all that experience when you were younger. Is that why you’re wanting to get in shape?”

  She turned and folded her arms. “Is this also how it would be—we engage in conversations about our mundane daily activities as if you didn’t just turn me over your knee to spank me and then take your pleasure of me in the shower, making sure I’m so desperate for you that I’m close to begging?”

  “How close?”

  Her eyes snapped with frustration. “You already told me it wouldn’t do any good if I did.”

  “True, but the idea of you prostrate at my feet, begging for release, is fairly enchanting.”

  She gazed at him, glossy red lips parted. “You just love to do that, don’t you?”

  “All part of the ride, my sweet bed slave. Come over later and we can see how far you’ll go. Maybe you can persuade me.”

  Tempted, by the yearning in her eyes. But she shook her head slightly. “I’ll see what the girls are up to, but I doubt it.”

  “If you all lived here, that wouldn’t be a problem, I feel compelled to point out.”

  “But you’d keep me stewing until they were in bed for the night.”

  He grinned at her. “See? You know the rules just fine.” He stood and took her hand, toying with the bracelet. “Sadly, I have to get back to the office. Do you want to ride along and have Ernesto drop you somewhere or will you take your own car?”

  “I’ll take my own.” She followed his gaze to the bracelet. “I meant to ask—I couldn’t figure out how to take it off.”

  He’d wondered when she’d notice that. “You’d have to have a jeweler do it. The clasp is designed to lock once engaged.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is this another of your chains?”

  Still holding her hand, he traced the long line of her throat, loving the way her pulse fluttered in the soft blue spot under her jaw. “Yes. Symbolic, of course. I have an idea for a similar necklace, one that you’d wear all the time.”

  “A collar.”

  “Well a choker of a single strand of diamonds, but you and I would know what it means.” Mine.

  “You’re pushing me awfully hard, Ryan.”

  He studied her, taking in every flicker of her expression, her body language, her simmering heat making the rich scent of roses fill his brain. “I know I am. But not, I think, more than you can take.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Not more than she could take, indeed.

  She wanted to kill him. She also wanted to tie him down and ride him until this burning need released. Once she’d realized his plan, to have his way with her and leave her unsatisfied, she’d nearly melted down. And the sight of the chastity belt...

  How could she be wearing the damn thing?

  Why hadn’t she refused?

  He was a master of the mind fuck, for sure. Playing into all those nights Noah had left her unsatisfied and putting his own twisted spin on it. Of course, she’d barely been aroused those times and they had never dug into her like this. Impossible that Ryan found exactly the right way to wind her up, screw her and send her away desperate for him. She pressed her fingers against the rigid mesh, wild to get some contact against her clit. To no avail. It curved around her like a guy’s athletic cup, stranding her swollen tissues.

  If possible, she felt more aroused now than before. If time away from Ryan’s teasing touches didn’t abate some of this need, she would be crawling back and begging. No doubt exactly what he had in mind.

  The idea of you prostrate at my feet, begging for release, is fairly enchanting.

  She could see it happening, too. What had happened to her cherished pride?

  Shredded by one man’s domineering sexual torments.

  Focusing on the dance team practice helped distract her for a few hours. Fortunately, as it looked like she wouldn’t be able to get away that evening. Angela Atwater certainly was a piece of work and within the first thirty minutes Tina got why the girls didn’t love her. Not only had she never been on a dance team, she came from a classical ballet background and held the sport in obvious contempt. They might not be in varsity competitions yet at this grade, but the girls on this team would be woefully unprepared if they wanted to do that in high school. Angie didn’t challenge the girls at all and, sadly, the team showed the lack. Tamping down the guilt at how little attention she’d paid to this, too, Tina threw herself into making notes on ideas to both improve the team and work around Angie Atwater.

  Because it was the only thing with her, other than her phone, she used the sex tablet to record the information in the notes app. So she saw when Ryan added a new module. Determined to ignore that, she scooted up to the second row of the bleachers, drawing up her knees to keep the screen from view, just in case he decided to say something incriminating.

  Sure enough, he sent a message.

  Thinking of you. Is it soup yet?

  All the need flared to life, instantly, possibly worse than before. Tempting to simply ignore that taunt, but the desire to play his own game and answer immediately for once won out.

  Don’t bug me—I’m busy.

  She pictured his surprise at her rapid response and the way his eyes would glitter at the challenge in it.

  Oh, Celestina. I’m going to enjoy making you pay for that.

  Feeling reckless, she replied: Promises promises.

  He actually paused, a full minute passing before he answered. Tonight?

  Can’t. :(

  Ah, well. You know it hurts you far more than it hurts me.

  She wanted to kick him for that. Trying to keep her attention on the routine the team fumbled through, with painful lack of coordination, she willed the rising arousal to fade again. After about ten minutes and zero progress on the routine, a new module notification popped up, along with a message.

  As promised. Short-term offer. If you accept before midnight, I promise to let you come. If you decline, you’ll receive another offer in the morning. No guarantees.

  It gave her a shiver of delighted anticipation even as she scowled at the screen. Him and his negotiations. Curiosity raging to know, she still wouldn’t look here. Not until she had some privacy. If only to keep her from melting down the bleachers in a puddle.

  After supervising Carly’s trigonometry homework—like she knew much about that—while Josie met with her sculpture project team, she drove the girls home, talking about ideas to improve the team. They enthusiastically offered their suggest
ions, and the car ride, dinner prep and evening flew by in what ended up being a fun time for all of them. Two nights in a row—a miracle.

  Once in bed—with a good hour before her deadline, even with getting home so late—she opened the tablet, her body lighting up to an intense level of desire just at the sight of the screen. Talk about Pavlovian programming. Because she couldn’t touch herself where she most wanted to, she rubbed her sore bottom against the sheets, indulging in the extraordinary memory of being draped over Ryan’s lap and spanked. Unexpectedly, the sensation on her skin felt nearly as stimulating as touching her clit would be. Combined with the intimate image, the body-sense of being totally under his control, she felt almost as if she could orgasm anyway.

  If one of his intents had been to induce her to miss him, to regret their separation, then he’d succeeded brilliantly. If only she could now be retiring to the master suite with him, shivering with excitement over what he might do to her, rather than sitting alone in her empty bed with no surcease in sight.

  He hadn’t sent any more messages, so she checked the module he’d added last. And moaned quietly at the contents. Upping the ante for sure. Another demonstration of how things could work between them, no doubt. She studied the components. Only one thing she hadn’t already granted in the past, just altered—and far more intimidating—circumstances.

  Daunting to contemplate, but the lure of the promised release overcame her trepidation. Also, no matter the apparent risk of discovery, she trusted him to take care of her. For all his cruel teasing, he’d set this up entirely to give her greater pleasure. Even as she enjoyed their game of pretending to fight each other, it warmed her that he put so much effort into her sexual fulfillment. That he placed so much focused attention on her. More than just his absorption in the game, on what would get under her skin and control and rock her world.

  Even if he didn’t love her, he cared enough to pay more attention to her than Noah had ever mustered. Maybe that would be enough to compensate.

  With a thrill of anticipation so intense her finger shook, she accepted the module. Then texted him a good-night. Of course he replied immediately.

  Good night Celestina. This is going to be good.

  As her mind blurred into sleep, it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen any prices on tomorrow’s session. Also, dammit, she’d forgotten to reply to that email. She’d have to look again in the morning.

  * * *

  The girls were beside themselves thrilled when Ernesto turned up to give them a ride to school again. Apparently their social stock had risen considerably when he’d dropped them off the day before. Not thrilling that such ostentatious displays of wealth so profoundly affected the adolescent social circles and esteem, but also a fact of life. Go to a fancy school and pay the price—beyond the tuition bill. Another consideration to factor into the decision about moving them all in with Ryan. The wealth could turn her nieces into spoiled snobs. Something her working-class parents would have hated. Maybe Ara, too?

  Though she and Ara had always dreamed of being silly rich—they’d just thought they’d make the money themselves.

  No time to dwell on it, with Ernesto returning soon to pick her up. Taking the sealed box he’d brought when he picked up the girls, she hurried to prepare herself according to Ryan’s instructions. Probably another of his gambits to keep her from worrying about anything except what surprises he might spring on her.

  The preparation didn’t take much, as she’d already done her hair and makeup. Opening the box, she scanned the contents, then set about putting everything on. The black lace garter belt fit over her hips, just meeting the edge of the diabolical chastity device, attaching to the nearly transparent black silk stockings with a seam up the back. The bra cupped her breasts, lifting and plumping them, but leaving the nipples bare.

  It took her a moment to figure out the nipple clamps. As Ryan had promised, they hurt more than the others. So much so that her eyes watered and she nearly pulled them off again. She could safeword on that part. But, after a few minutes, the sting subsided even as the craving in her groin accelerated. If she could stand it, she wanted the full ride he’d contrived.

  The clamps also had the added benefit of having an outer surface like a smooth metal shell. So when she put on the black silk wrap dress, it fit smoothly over her breasts as it never would with her nipples exposed. Crafty of him.

  She slipped on the very high heels, gorgeously sexual all on their own, also black with scarlet soles that seemed to hint at what went on under her dress. The limo pulled up to the curb, so she grabbed her bag and tablet, locked up and went out to meet the car, hoping none of her inner turmoil showed on her face. Ernesto handed her in with his usual genial smile.

  “Mr. Black mentioned you’d be working on your tablet, so I have the window up. Drive should take about twenty minutes. Just use the intercom if you need to stop anywhere.”

  At least that spared her idle chitchat while she struggled to keep herself from going crazy with need. Taking the remark about the tablet as a hint, she swiped it on and found Ryan had sent a number of pictures for her to look at. As if she needed more stimulation. However, he’d asked her to comment on each, at least a like or dislike. Remembering, she pulled her skirt out from under her, sitting on a hand towel thoughtfully left with the sparkling water and a red rose in full bloom, and dutifully looked through the images.

  One showed a woman tied on her hands and knees with legs spread, a jewel-ended plug in her anus and a vivid red handprint on her white skin. It felt like fatally exposing herself, to click the heart on that and others. That he would no doubt keep a record and revisit them with her in person.

  Or on her person.

  They arrived at Ryan’s offices before she knew it. Tucking the hand towel in her bag before Ernesto opened the door, she accepted his hand out and entered the lobby. She hadn’t been in the building since they’d finished the project. The glass walls curved around the center courtyard, the pools dry and the fountains still. The shape of water remained, the sense of the concentric circles flowing one into the next, like ripples in a still pond hit by raindrops, but the circles had been filled in with crystalline bright stones and, of course, no fountains splashed. The overall effect had become more like a Japanese Zen garden—surprisingly beautiful and peaceful.

  Just not hers anymore.

  “Ms. Sala?” An efficient-looking young woman smiled at her. “I’m Anna, Mr. Black’s admin. He sent me to escort you up.”

  “Thank you.” The man had a serious thing for having her delivered to him. She followed along with Anna to the high-security elevators. They’d needed the escort years ago, too, when her team worked on the project, so it could be just her that this felt sexual. Somehow the man made every damn thing sexual.

  “I understand you designed the water gardens.” Anna gave her another friendly smile. “They’re so beautiful. I don’t know how you can imagine something like that and then make it real.”

  “They were more beautiful with actual water.”

  The woman’s smile didn’t dim. “Yes, they were. When I first started working for Mr. Black, I’d take my lunch out there every day and sit in a new spot. Every one gave me a different feeling, a changed perspective. It still does that, in a different way. You’re quite a brilliant artist. I admit when Mr. Black said you were coming by for coffee today, I got all excited to meet you.”

  It had to be her own excited state that had her hearing the double entendres. Coming for coffee, was she? Interesting.

  “Besides,” Anna added, “Mr. Black made sure that we maintained the pumps and everything. As soon as the drought ends, we’ll remove the rock and refill it.”

  “What if the drought doesn’t end?”

  “Everything comes to an end,” Anna replied with confidence. “That’s the one thing we can count on—change. One thing ends,
another begins.”

  “Very Zen attitude.”

  Anna laughed. “All that time sitting in your water gardens maybe!”

  The elevator reached the top floor and opened into a reception area that Anna led her through. No signing in for this meeting.

  “I’m also really happy to see Mr. Black dating someone seriously,” Anna confided in a lowered voice. “In the four years I’ve worked with him, he’s never had a woman visit. In fact, I had to run interference on a couple who tried.” She rolled her eyes with good humor. “You wouldn’t believe how some of these bimbos act when they scent money—worse than sharks on blood. Really nice that he’s found someone interested in him for himself, you know?”

  She rapped on the double doors of Ryan’s office. Waited for his reply, then opened it and gestured Tina in. “Ms. Sala is here to see you.”

  Ryan rose from behind his glass desk, the Hollywood Hills beyond framing his impressive form. He came around the desk and took her hand, brushing her cheek with a kiss. “You look lovely, Celestina. Thank you, Anna.”

  “Of course. I’ll hold your calls. Nice to meet you, Ms. Sala.”

  Tina managed to return the sentiment, not easy with Ryan’s fingers caressing her wrist and Anna’s words ringing in her head. Really nice that he’s found someone interested in him for himself. Worse than sharks on blood. But she was one of those “bimbos,” wasn’t she? In it for the money. She turned to Ryan, opening her mouth to say something—she wasn’t sure what—but he slid a strong arm around her waist and, giving her no option to resist, pulled her in for a long, completely devastating kiss. He blanked her brain as only he could do, and she found herself clinging to him, desperate for anything he’d give her, nipples throbbing and the rest of her melting rapidly.

  Ryan broke the kiss, gazing into her eyes with a ferocity that made her heart hammer. Then he stepped back and slowly untied the sash of her dress, unwrapping her like a present and dropping the silk to the floor.