At Mr. Cartwright's Command (7 page)

I sigh out of frustration, realizing we're not making any progress.

“Did you want to interrogate me about anything else or can I go?” he replied sarcastically.

“You still didn't tell me your name,” I reply weakly.

“And I'm not going to.  Any other questions?”

“No,” I resign. 

He turns from me and walks away.

L
ater in the evening I hear a soft wrap at the door.  I've spent the majority of the day getting settled into my new room and touring the grounds of the house.  It doesn't seem possible but this place seems larger from the inside than out.

My room is quite nice and I have access to most of the house, with the exception of Mr. Cartwright's room which Ronald warned me to “never, under any circumstance, enter without his consent,” to which I of course asked what I should do if there's a fire that Mr. Cartwright happens to sleep through, just to be difficult.  But I can't complain, and I honestly have no desire to venture into that part of the house – the library is huge, there's a gym, a bowling alley, a theater, a salon, an entertainment room, as well as a pool, tennis courts, stables and gardens outside. It was like being in the penthouse times 10, plus a gigantic backyard.

I open the door with anticipation that I don't even want to acknowledge.  It's just Ronald – I can't complain about that, really, he's the one person in this house who's mood I can actually predict.

He greets me with a warm smile.  “Ms. Pierce, I hope you're happy with your accommodations?”

I smile and nod.  “Of course I am.  And it's just Tamara.”

His smile grows wider.  “Dinner is ready and Mr. Cartwright requests your presence.”

I roll my eyes.  “You can tell Mr. Cartwright I'm not hungry.”

He clears his throat and says, “Mr. Cartwright
requires
your presence.”

“Alright. Fine,” I concede with a groan.  “Just give me a moment and I'll be down.”

“Very well.”

I toil around the room for at least a quarter of an hour, doing nothing of importance.  At this point I'm just stalling to get under his skin, and I question why I do these things. 

*

Mr. Cartwright doesn't look particularly pleased when I enter the dining room, which silently amuses me.  His eyes travel over my jeans and hoody with confusion.

“Is this generally how you dress for dinner?” he asks, and I search his eyes for a moment just to make sure he's serious.

“Was I supposed to wear a gown?”

“Well it would've been better than those old ratty things.”

“Thanks.”

He shakes his head.  “Sit down. We have a few things to discuss.”

Here we go. 
I take a seat across from him, where my food is already sitting and waiting for me. I take a bite and look up to  notice him watching me as he chews.

“You asked me about the details of our deal,” he says as he peers down at his food.  “I think you had a good idea.”

Wow, he's acknowledging that I can do something right? Score.

“So I've thought about it for a while and I've come up with some core rules.”

Well thanks for consulting me first!
“Alright. What did you come up with?”

He puts his fork down, folding his hands under his chin.  “By now I'm sure Ronald has already showed you the grounds and laid out what areas of the house you're not to enter, ever.  So that would be rule number one.”

I nod. “Fair enough,” I mumble as I take another bite.

“You're not to ask me my name. Or any other personal questions about me or my business.”

I nearly roll my eyes – what was this guys problem with people knowing his name?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asks.

At this point, I don't feel like going at it again. “No. It's fine,” I reply bluntly as I continue to eat.

“Good.  You are to dress for dinner from now on.”
Seriously?
“And get rid of those jeans I don't want to see you in them around the house again.”

Now this is getting ridiculous
, I think. But I don't protest.

“You don't call me, text me, or come to me unless it's an urgent, life or death issue.  And you respond as soon as I request your presence.”

I freeze and jab the plate with my fork.  My frustration shows now.  Mr. Cartwright observes this and I see that wicked twinkle in his eyes as his the sides of his lips twitch.  He's enjoying this.  I quickly soften my features and smile.  “That's fine.  Whatever you say.”

His eyes narrow.  “You can come and go as you wish, but if you leave you don't come back.”

I continue to smile, but it's getting harder now.

“And we have sex on a daily basis.”

My eyes grow round and I'm not sure if I should be scandalized or turned on by that.

“Do you have a problem with any of the things I just I said.”

I purse my lips and shake my head, against my better judgment.

“Tamara, I don't like liars,” he replies sternly.

“Okay. It's a little bit ...over the top don't you think?”

He looks confused.  “Which part?”

Um, all of it?
  “The part where...I mean, I can never leave the house? Really?”

“It's a pretty nice house...”

Well, that's an understatement.  “I'm not denying that.”

“Then what's the problem? You can go in the backyard, I'll allow you that.”

What the fuck does he think I am, a dog? Is he going to take me for a walk too?  “Well, thank you for that measure of generosity,” I reply sarcastically, “but what I mean is leaving the premises.”

His brows narrow.  “What would you want to leave for?”

I plant my face in hand as this is all becoming more and more frustrating.  “I mean...there's a whole world outside and plenty of things I'd like to do to keep my mind occupied.  Hobbies, volunteering...”

He nods thoughtful and says, “Alright, fine. Eventually you'll be granted those privileges.  If, and only if, you prove that I can trust you again.”  His eyes are dark and pointed.

“Alright,” I whisper.  

“Wonderful. So we agree on everything.”

“Well what about my input?”

He blinks at me.  “What would you like to add, then?”

I shrug.  “There are lots of things.”

He laughs a little.  “Alright. Shoot.”

“No more of that bondage crap.”

He laughs a lot.  “No deal. Plus, you loved it,” he says darkly.  Well, he isn't entirely wrong.

“You have to take off your clothes when we have sex.”

This one seemed to throw him for a loop. “I...what?”

“You're always fully clothed and you need to stop that.”

His lips curl into a mischievous crooked smile.  “We'll see.”

“I'll let you tie me up,” I say seductively.

He looks at me and I see his bottom lip get lost between his teeth.  “I'm going to tie you up anyways.”

Shit, do I have any bargaining chips here?  Regardless, that threat has me kind of hot...

“You have to compromise on something.”

“I've never compromised on anything and I'm not about to start.”

“This isn't a business deal.”

“Yes.  Yes it is.”

“I'm a person, not a contract.  I expect to be treated like one.”

“Then put something reasonable on the table and I'll seriously consider it.”

“Really, what the hell is so unreasonable about me asking you to take your damn shirt off?”

“Good lord, fine. If it's that important to you.”

I smile.  It's pretty insignificant, but it's something.

He raises and eyebrow and asks, “Is that all?”

No. There's so much more, but I won't push things right now.  “For now,” I say.

“Good,” he replies as he loosens his tie.  “Because I am ready for dessert.”

“Well I personally am stuffed,” I say as I push my plate away from me.  “May I be excused?” I ask, jokingly.

“Absolutely not,” he says with dark, heavy lidded eyes.

“Why?”

“Because, like I said, I'm ready for my dessert.”

Oh.
Well I guess that makes me the main course.

“Well, you know the conditions,” I say to him, my eyes flickering down to his chest.  I scoot my chair away from the table and move to exit the room.  “When you're ready, I'll be in my room.”

He stops me by the arm as I pass him. 

“I don't think you understood me. I'm ready, right here, and right now.”

My eyebrow arches.  “Right here? But Ronald--”

“Ronald has left for the day, so have all the other servants.  It's just you and I.”

I gulp, wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing. He rises slowly from his chair, looming over me and backing me against the table. His eyes travel down my body.  “Remove your clothes,” he tells me.

“You first,” I reply.

His eyes narrow.  “That's not how this works.”

I unzip my hoody, brushing it off my shoulders and letting if fall to the floor. Underneath that I'm wearing a button down, and I proceed to undo each button, slowly, keeping my eyes on his the entire time. His eye line disappears into my cleavage and I only get about half way when he grasps at my seams, basically tearing my shirt open.  Buttons pop and fly everywhere and I'm slightly sad to see it go.

He lifts my hips, perching me on the edge of the table.  I put my hands against his chest, stopping him as he presses himself against me.

“Should I do the honors?” I ask, sticking my finger inside the gaping hole between his buttons.

“Fine,” he relents, and I quickly undo his shirt.  My hands travel up his toned abs and sexy pecs as he strips, letting his garment fall to the floor. His mouth crashes against mine, our lips entangling and our tongues wrestling as he cups his hand around my head to deepen the kiss.

His hand travels down my side to my thigh – he grips it tightly, pulling it up and I respond by hooking my leg around his waist.  I feel the cold, hard wood beneath my back as he pushes me on to the table, his half naked body pinning me in place. His lips move down to my neck now, nuzzling and sucking at the delicate skin,  and I wrap my legs tightly around him.

With both hands he roughly grabs my breasts through my bra with both hands, before snaking them around my back and removing it entirely.   His mouth  collides with my nipple and I moan as he sucks and tickles it with his tongue.  My hands tangle in his hair as he slides a hand in between my legs, rubbing my sweet spot through my underwear.  He doesn't have to do much to get me wet – he pushes my panties aside and slips a finger inside of me, my slick warmth inviting him in.

My fingers explore his back as he fucks me with his fingers and assaults me with his mouth. My back arches and I feel my impending climax begin to rumble deep inside me.  He must notice this, because he pulls out of me and flashes a wicked smile. I watch him with heaving breasts as he pulls back and undoes his pants in that same slow, teasing pace that I did early. 
Fuck my life.
  I guess I deserve this.

Finally his pants come down and he slides his underwear over his own ass, revealing his beautiful slick cock.   He fixes his eyes on me as he strokes it and positions it at my entrance, grazing an teasing me with the head of his cock.

I groan and move my own hand down between my legs. 

“No,” he growls, collecting both of my wrists in his hand and pinning them back behind my head.  He's heated an worked up now, and I like it.

Holding me in place, he grabs his cock again and places it at my hole.  With one rough thrust he pushes into me.  I cry out as he relentless me fucks me, hard, into the table.  It might hurt if I weren't already so turned on, but my body receives every one of his hard thrusts.  I see that dark twinkle in his eye and he moves his hand to my neck, circling it with his strong fingers and keeping my body in place against the surface below us.  He fucks me faster and I know that he's testing me.  Pushing my limits.  I buck my hips against him to let him know I can take anything he gives.

I feel my climax near again and I pray he doesn't stop.  He comes right as I orgasm, collapsing against my chest.  I cradle his head against my bosom.

He stands upward, taking me with him by the shoulders and he studies me for a moment with sensitive eyes.  “Did I hurt you?” he asks, and I see a flicker of humanity in him that I've never witnessed before.

I shake my head and say, “No, you couldn't hurt me.”

His expression fades and his features harden again.  “We'll see about that,” he says.  He turns, collects his clothes, and leaves without a word.

I'm left alone in the dining hall. I scoop up my old clothing from the floor and inspect them.  The old rags are exactly that now. I throw them in the garbage for returning to my room.

I lay back in my bed, watching the ceiling as my mind wanders back to him, and I smile. If Mr. Cartwright wants a challenge, then that's exactly what I'll give him.