ARROGANT MASTER (14 page)

BELLAMY

I clasp the gold chain around my neck and flip the visor up
before turning the engine off. It’s not tight by any means, but a constricted sensation
creeps around me.

I’m not an animal.

And I fully understand that physically I belong to him. I
know what I agreed to. But I didn’t know I’d have to wear something twenty-four
seven to remind me.

It’s almost worse than Cortland proclaiming at Bible study
last night that he’d spent the afternoon looking at promise rings for me. It
took every ounce of strength in my body to give him my ring size with a smile
on my face.

When I climb out of the Land Rover, I click the button twice
just to hear the sonar beep an extra time then stand back and admire how sleek
and sexy my new ride is. I worried about explaining this beautiful beast to my
family, but my father took it exceptionally well. I think he was just relieved
he wouldn’t have to buy me a new car. The Chrysler should be out of the shop next
week, but I’m going to tell my father to sell it. By the time I’m done working
for Dane in a few months, I’ll be able to afford something one-hundred-percent
mine.

“Dane’s not in today,” Marlene says when I walk past her
desk that morning.

I stop short, cocking my head. “Is everything okay?”

“Death in the family.” She presses her hand across her
heart. “He might be in later today, but we’re not sure. He’s with Beckham right
now.
Private burial on Saturday.
That’s all I know.”

My heart aches for the man with the ice-block heart who’s
probably suffering in silence, not allowing anyone to comfort him. I wish he’d
let me be with him. Granted, I’m not his girlfriend but still. I could at least
serve
him by offering my support.

Then again, he made it clear earlier in the week that I’m
not in his “inner circle.”

I slip the diamond necklace off when I get to my desk and
place it in an organizer tray in my top drawer. If he’s not here, there’s no
sense in me wearing this. Pulling out my phone, I send him a text.

SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS,
DANE. I’M HERE IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.

Send
.

He doesn’t respond, and like some spineless pushover, I
can’t help wanting to do something more to please him. I yank the drawer out
and fish around for the necklace, slipping it around my neck and taking a
selfie. It’s just my décolletage, the photo centered on my necklace. I leave
out my face and cleavage, as I’m not about to make his day of mourning about
sex or teasing.

I examine the photo and send it to him without a caption
before taking the necklace off once again and tucking my phone back in my
purse. He can do with it what he wants, but I refuse to take it personally if
he doesn’t respond. He’s busy, and I know family comes first.

My morning consists of playing solitaire and making too many
trips to the break room for some Earl Grey tea from the Keurig machine. My
afternoon consists of way too many bathroom trips thanks to said tea, and a little
light Internet browsing. I’ve never actually shopped online, but I type in any
store name I can think of and add a
dot
com
to the end and squeal like a schoolgirl when the
website pops up. I’m not sure why my father needed to block all these websites.
It’s not like looking at shoes or bags would be some gateway to the darkest
corners of the World Wide Web, but try telling him that.

When it’s time to go, I grab my necklace and then check the
doorknob of Dane’s office, making sure he didn’t sneak in at some point in the
day.

Locked.

I check my phone for the millionth time that day to see if
he got my texts. They show as received, but he still hasn’t responded.

I just hope he’s okay because I know he’d never admit it if
he weren’t.

***

“I never see you anymore.” My sister, Waverly, comes into my
room that night and throws herself across my bed. “You’re always working or
with Cortland.”

“It’s called being an adult,” I say, picking at my nails. I
need to paint them again before work tomorrow.

“Cortland’s been coming over almost every night this week,”
she laments.

Though we were spared tonight. He had to help a cousin move
into a house. Thank God for small favors.

I lift my gaze in her direction. “You don’t like him?”

Please say you don’t
like him.

She rolls her eyes. “No, it’s not that. I mean
,
he’s
perfect
for
you. And dad loves him. Mom too. Everyone really. It’ll just be weird when
you’re married, and you won’t be here anymore.”

“You’re going to college in the fall, right? You don’t plan
on sticking around?”

“Dad said I could go if I got a scholarship and if I’m on my
best behavior the rest of the school year.”

“When are you
not
on your best behavior? You’re the golden child. I don’t think it’s possible for
you to be any more perfect than you already are.”

She draws her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on
top of them. “Try telling Dad that. It seems like no matter what I do, he
thinks I can do better. One of these days, I’m going to snap.”

“Don’t.” I place my hand up. “Don’t give Dad any reason to
do anything extreme. We both know what happened to Libby Conover from the 2
^nd
Ward.”

“Libby…?”

“Remember? Her father thought she got too
spirited
and married her off to some old
geezer in Arizona. She was fresh out of high school. Don’t think it can’t
happen to one of us.”

My phone dings in my purse, and I spring for it without
hesitation.

“You’re on that thing all the time now.” Waverly stands up
and crosses her arms.

“I’ve only had it a few days. How can I be on it all the
time?” I call out as she leaves. I press the green icon on my screen and only
after I read his text do I realize I’m holding my breath and that I smiled the
entire time.

SATURDAY CAN’T COME SOON
ENOUGH
,
he says.

If he were my boyfriend, I might reply with one of those
cute heart
emojis
or the one with the red lips. I
force the smile off my face though an intense amount of butterflies remain in
my belly. I’m certainly not falling in love with Dane, but I am falling in love
with the escape. The rush. The thrill.

The build up and excitement and anticipation.

The prospect of freedom.

I type a reply.

DO YOU NEED ME TO DO
ANYTHING SPECIAL TOMORROW? WILL YOU BE IN?

A minute later, he responds.

I WON’T BE IN. SENDING A
CAR TO PICK YOU UP AT ONE FOR LUNCH AT HARBOR BLEU. WEAR THE BLACK HERVE LEGER
DRESS, RED HEELS, GOLD NECKLACE AND NOTHING ELSE. YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT AT
NINE AT BELLISIMA DAY SPA ON FORREST AVENUE.

The man needs a distraction, and I certainly won’t fault him
for that.

YES, MASTER. GOODNIGHT.

DANE

Harbor Bleu is a classy establishment, but it’s not going to
deter me from keeping my hands off Bellamy as soon as I see her. I’d been
planning to treat her to a decent lunch all week, even before Uncle Leo passed,
and I wasn’t about to trash my reservations in lieu of sitting around Golden
Oak moping with Beck and Odessa. Uncle Leo wouldn’t have liked that. He’d much
rather me out getting pussy and celebrating the colorful life that old bastard
lived until fucking cancer stole his last fighting breath.

“Right this way, Ms. Miller.” The maître-d escorts a
stunning blonde in sky-high red stilettos my way. Her hair bounces as she walks,
and her breasts peek from the top of the skintight bandage dress that hugs her
curves. She glows. Her skin is luminous like that of a woman who’s spent all
morning at a spa getting waxed, polished, scrubbed, massaged and moisturized.

I stand to greet her, leaning over the small candlelit table
to kiss her cheek. She slides into the half-moon booth I’ve reserved in the
back of the restaurant and takes the spot next to me.

“You look beautiful.” I reach for the diamond necklace and
straighten it. “Thank you for meeting me today.”

Not that she had a choice.

“Thank you for the spa appointment,” she says, running her fingertips
along the length of her bare, soft arm.

“May I offer you a sample?
Trimbach
Riesling. Two thousand seven.” A member of the wait staff approaches us with an
open bottle and two pieces of stemware.

Bellamy looks at me, but I’m more focused on the way the
server is looking at her. I’ll deduct one percent from his tip for each second
he feasts on her cleavage.

“Yes, please.” I reach beneath the tablecloth and squeeze
her knee before inching my way up her inner thighs and way past the hem of her
tight dress.

Her chin dips low, and a curtain of blonde wisps hide her
face as she squirms. I wait for the server to finish pouring our samples and
scram before I push her hair away.

“I want to see your face,” I whisper, my fingers aching to
be inside her, though not nearly as much as my growing
cock
right now. “I want to see the way you fight it when I…”

Well, well, well.

I was going to fuck her with my fingers right here over
dinner since there’s no finer way to enjoy a medium rare filet than sitting
across from a beautiful woman with an orgasmic flush.

But she’s wearing fucking panties.

I pull my hand away and lean into her, nipping her earlobe
between my teeth. “I thought I gave you explicit instructions not to wear
anything else besides the dress, the heels, and the necklace.”

Her gaze narrows.

“The panties, Angel.” I roll my eyes and lean back. “Go to
the ladies’ room, remove them, and bring them back to me.”

Her jaw drops as her cheeks flush. “I can’t do that.”

“Pardon?”

“This dress is so short. I can’t. I’ll be exposed.”

“If it’s that big of a deal, use your
safeword
.”
I’m challenging her. “But this is an extremely minor, basic thing,
of
that you can be sure. I suppose now you’re going to
pretend to be all virtuous.”

I toss back the Riesling sample and gaze around the
restaurant, waiting for her to make up her mind.

“Fine.” She slides out of the booth, tugging her dress down
as she saunters to the restroom, returning five long minutes later.

“Let me see them.”

Bellamy’s fist is balled, and she extends it my way,
dropping a crumpled lace panty in my lap. I tuck them in my inner jacket pocket
and wait for her to take her spot once again.

My hand wastes no time gliding back up under her dress, and
my cock hardens the second I feel the slickness between her thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” I moan into her ear, breathing in
her salon-scented hair. Two fingers slide between her folds, pushing inside her
and eliciting a soft gasp while my thumb massages her clit.

“Are we ready to order?” Our server returns and my fingers
have no intention of leaving Bellamy’s pussy anytime soon.

“Yes, please, I’ll take the filet. Medium rare. House salad.
She’ll have the same.” I hand him our menus with my free hand.

“Would you two like any bread with fresh olive oil and
parm
–”

“No,” I cut him off, my fingers wriggling inside her
clenched walls as her fingers dig into my forearm.

She sighs the second he walks off and tugs her bottom lip
between her perfect teeth.

“Are you waiting for permission, Angel?” I whisper.

She nods.

“Good girl,” I say. “Come like no one’s watching. It’s just
you and me. We’re the only ones here.”

My thumb presses harder against her clit as my fingers push
deeper, faster. Her chest heaves as her lips smash together, stifling the moans
she refuses to release. Her hips buck against my fingers until her eyes roll
back, and she collapses against my arm.

Her thighs go limp, and I retract my arm, studying the sweet
flush of release that floods her glowing face.

“Thank you for not faking it that time.” I scoot slightly
and place my napkin over my lap.

Bellamy tilts her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I highly recommend you not lie about it.” I tip up my empty
glass and set it back down. “That wouldn’t be good for you at all right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hushed. “I was nervous.”

I don’t believe her, but I’m too mentally exhausted to
psychoanalyze why she felt the need to do a poor rendition of a screaming porno
orgasm.

“Whatever the reason, I don’t particularly care. Just don’t
fake one again or I’ll ensure you have five in a row that you absolutely will
not be able to fake.”

Forced masturbation isn’t a kink of mine, but in this case
it might serve as a rational deterrent.

Our food arrives piping hot and on time, and per my
calculations our server is now looking at a three percent tip based on the
seventeen times he’s taken liberties at checking out my sub.

“Did you grow up around here?” She saws gracefully into her
filet and forks a small sliver, bringing it to her rosebud lips.

“No,” I say.

“Where are you from? Or how did you wind up in Salt Lake
City?”

“Here in Utah. And it’s just the way it happened, Bellamy.
How is your steak?”

“Amazing,” she says. “Where’d you go to school?”

“This isn’t a Q and A session nor is it a
getting-to-know-you date,” I remind her before remembering to soften my
delivery. I slid my hand across the tablecloth, covering hers. “Let’s just
enjoy our meal, shall we? The chef who prepared this meal is co-owner of a
Michelin star restaurant in Chicago.”

The questions stop, and as I requested, we enjoy our meal
together in silence. After paying the check and escorting her to the
chauffeured town car I reserved just for her, I lean over and kiss her cheek.
It’s the second time I’ve done it this afternoon, and I normally don’t make a
habit of showing many displays of affection if any at all, but she’s been
awfully quiet since I nixed her benign interrogation. And while it wasn’t a
sexual act of any kind, I’ll offer her a small amount of aftercare in the form
of a kiss and some reassurance.

“I had fun with you this afternoon. I needed this.” I brush
her arm. “You did well in there.”

“We didn’t do anything for you,” she says, her clear blue
eyes match the sky this afternoon.

“Everything in there was for me.”

My driver pulls up behind her waiting car.

“Tomorrow night,” I say. “Press the home button on the GPS
of the Discovery. It’ll take you to Golden Oak. Call me when you pull up to the
gate, and bring your overnight bag.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was an overnight thing.” She places
a pointed finger in the air as if to stop me from going quite yet.

“Oh? I thought I’d made it clear before?” I widen my stance,
unwilling to accept her refusal.

“I can still stop over, I might just need to leave in the
middle of the night to get home before the sun comes up.”

“Bellamy, you’re not going to have the strength to drive
home after I’m done with you. And you’ll be sleeping with me that night. My
room is being prepared, and I’m having several items delivered to make your
stay especially enjoyable.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Her gaze lands on the
sidewalk.

For a moment, I’m hit with a Jenessa flashback. I’m punched
in the gut all over again, but I refuse to believe sweet, sultry Bellamy is
half the devil incarnate she was.

“This is not up for debate. You belong to me. You’ll do what
I say.
End of discussion.
I’ll see you Saturday
night.”

I climb into the back of my Town Car and instruct the driver
to take me back to the funeral home so I can finish planning my uncle’s burial
with Beckham. After a whirlwind of a shitty week, the only thing I have to look
forward to is being
balls
deep in Bellamy’s sweet as
sin pussy tomorrow night.

Dare I say I’m impressed with myself for waiting? The old me
would’ve wasted no time plunging my cock into that tightness. Something told me
she’d be worth the wait.

As we head across town, I take my phone out to check my
email. A call comes in when I’m halfway done scrolling through a quarterly statement
from my accountant, and for a second, I debate pressing the ignore button, but
then I realize it’s my guy.

My background guy.

“That was quick,” I say when I answer. “Please tell me she’s
clean as a whistle.”

“Describe clean as a whistle,” he says.

My heart stops for a second and restarts when we hit a
pothole in the road. “Don’t fucking scare me like that.
”

Last time, he alluded to digging up some dirt on Jenessa, but
I never imagined just how dirty it would be.

“Well, she is who she says she is, so that’s good. No known
aliases. Graduated from Whispering Hills High five years ago. Birthdate checks
out.
Social security number.
All the basics are fine
and good.” He stops for a second and pulls in a sigh. “Had to go pretty deep
with this one, check out some of her family members.”

“And?”

“Well,
turns out her father is
a
card-carrying member of the Apostolic United Brethren. She comes from a poly
family, Dane. Looks like there are three wives. Several children. But they’re
shacking up Main Street style, hiding in plain sight from the rest of the
world. Her dad’s a pharmacist...”

I set the phone down as he yammers on about mundane details.
I tuned everything out after he mentioned the AUB.

“Dane?” he calls. “Dane, you still there? You okay?”