Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (29 page)

“He wanted me back,” I informed. He swallowed loudly and remained still. The silence urged me on, “I told him off. And walked away,” I said. “What are you doing here? You said I would only see you when I misbehaved,” I reminded, rolling my eyes as I faced forward.

My annoyance at his mixed messages seeped through the cracks. I was torn by my emotions: gleeful, he was with me without expectations; disappointment, he wasn’t making me submit to his wishes; and anger, he only came to me when he was protecting what was his. I wasn’t sure it was me he was worried about. I was certain he didn’t want another man complicating his attempts to retrieve the shares of Pentagon stocks.

The dual emotions of wanting to be coveted like a prize and offended with being treated like a possession battled for control. My need to be an independent woman sparred with the subservient woman I was comfortable being as Ben’s wife and wanted most with Matt. My independent nature refused to compromise on a secured future.

Matt stroked my belly, and my insides stirred with tension. I knew it was an innocent gesture and may have been a prelude to rubbing lower, but I pulled myself up to sit. I felt slightly queasy. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I told him. A gentle smile appeared on his face, and he stood up. Always the gentleman, he extended his hand to help me. I accepted and slowly stood up. He pulled me in for a hug, breathing deeply. I couldn’t tear myself away. I needed his love and willed for him to give it to me. I breathed in his scent, feeling his heart beating through his scrubs. I pulled back from the tender moment and tried to release the apprehension.

“Eww. You got on my bed with scrubs on?”

“They’re clean.” He looked down. “After surgery scrubs,” he said, smoothed his hands over his chest, assuring me of their sterility.

I still turned up my nose and hurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I prayed not to wretch and hurl. He would undoubtedly hear me, and I’d have to explain to a doctor why I was throwing up without having an infection or been poisoned. I turned on the shower and took off my clothes, hoping a cool spray would relieve my ‘whenever-it-strikes’ sickness. I recoiled once the cold spray hit my leg. The shower door opened.

“Can I join you?” Matt asked.

I couldn’t help but look at him. He was taking off his top. His tanned chest, strong and wide, flexed as he untied the drawstring of his bottoms. I hadn’t noticed I was staring at him pull down the material over his large cock until he cleared his throat. I looked up to see a lustful smile.

“Matt, just a shower, I’m tired,” I lifted the corner of my mouth into a smile. He followed me inside.

“It’s cold,” he retorted. “Are you deliberately trying to restrict me from getting a hard on?” He cried out.

“Yes.” I said, laughing. “I told you, it’s just a shower.”

I screeched when he pulled me in front of the water. He reached over to adjust the temperature to a warmer setting. My shower was much smaller than the one in his bachelor pad. I thought of all the sexy memories we created at his place.

A soapy massage of my chest made me shiver and a tingle coursed through my core. He took every measure to be gentle and attentive, knowing my exact needs. He knelt down to scrub my legs, pausing to stare at my belly. When I thought he would lean forward to kiss the fleshy border between my stomach and mound, I lifted his chin with my hand.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Matt shook his head, and stood up. For a split second, I thought for sure he knew about the baby. I took the sponge from his hands, rinsing it out and reloading more soap. I washed him while he watched me scrub his body, turning him to get all of his flesh. I tried to ignore the erection sprouting before me as I knelt down to wash his legs.

“Is there something, you’d like me to do while I’m down here?” I asked with a knowing smile.

I could tell he loved me in this pose, offering myself to his desires. He thought for a moment, and shook his head despite his erection.

“What would you like, babe?” I asked, stroking his length.

Matt leaned back onto the tiled wall, spreading his legs to get his bearings. I took him in while he watched. He gasped as I stroked his hard shaft, sucking the tip of his cock. A groan escaped his mouth, as his fingers snaked to my nape where he held me in just the right spot. I knew this was what he wanted: me on my knees, giving in to his dominant side. The only control he would allow was in ensuring his pleasure. He thrust gently into my mouth, pacing himself. The last time I sucked him off, I gagged and spat out. Although he derived pleasure from seeing me uncomfortable, this was sweet, patient and loving. His warm, silky flesh, made slick by our juices, allowed for him to easily glide in and out of my mouth. I hoped he wouldn’t get carried away and thrust deeper and faster as he was prone to do when angry with me. I could tell he wasn’t angry.

Both of my hands massaged his cock, setting the depth and the pace of our union. I inhaled a deep breath to rapidly suckle him, bringing him closer to climax. I feared I wouldn’t be able to swallow his seed. I never had a problem before the pregnancy, but almost every taste, smell, or thought caused my stomach to churn. He stopped me, pulling my hands away, and removing himself out of my mouth. I watched as he finished himself off, spurting his release toward the running water.

I was surprised and offended. I couldn’t enjoy how hot he looked jerking off. He took away my choice to finish him. In an act opposite of what a compliant partner would do, I asked, “What gives?”

I sat on my calves, as the water beat down my back, I looked up at him with wide eyes, awaiting a response.

“You’re still on punishment,” he answered matter-of-factly. My jaw dropped, then my brows furrowed. He denied me ‘swallowing’ as ‘punishment’ when swallowing was really for him. While I didn’t love ingesting his cum, I wanted to and always did. Matt wouldn’t allow my pleasure, even if it was for him. With his response, I knew I wasn’t going to get off again.

‘Fucker!’ I thought.

I didn’t want to start a fight. I allowed him to help me stand up. We rinsed off, and I turned off the water. Jumping out of the shower, to dry off and dress.

In the kitchen, watching the late hour on the microwave panel, I’d slept for much longer than I should have. I knew I should eat.

“Are you not feeling well?” I heard him ask as he entered the room. My heart skipped a beat worried he would question me further. ‘Would I outright lie, if he asked me about the possibility of being pregnant?’ I considered.

“What makes you ask?” I countered with a question.

“You never nap. I heard about the encounter, and when I got here, I saw you curled up. I was told you were in your apartment since seven-thirty. So are you ill?” He said while he held my neck, sliding his thumb over my glands and looking into my eyes.

He hadn’t kissed me, and I hadn’t kissed him. I couldn’t go there. If I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop and would have to give up everything I’ve ever wanted and yield to his control. I couldn’t in good conscious place myself under a man’s control again. Ben ruined it for me. His showing up at work was a reminder of all I’d escaped.

“Don’t assess me, Matt. You’re not my doctor. I’m fine.” I said. I grabbed a hold of his wrists and pulled away. “I’m reheating dinner. Will you be eating here, or are you taking off again?” I noticed he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt; one of many items of clothing he’d left in my apartment while he was waiting for me, awaiting my return from infernal paradise.

With bated breath, I listened for his response. I’d hoped he’d stay with me, but his concerted effort at keeping me in line was breaking me down emotionally. I was too proud to beg. On the other hand, it prompted me to work with the other men to ensure the future of Pentagon. And hopefully, it would preserve us.

“No. I’m going home,” he answered. I felt like a dagger pierced my heart. I’d hoped I was his home. I nodded my head, but my heart screamed ‘no.’

“Okay.” I answered quickly and more calm than my mind felt. I turned to open the fridge, looking at the options. “Well, I’ll be seeing you then.” I extended when I saw him watching me. I found it odd how I could give him a blow job five minutes before, but we could act so nonchalantly with each other thereafter.

“Goodnight, babe,” he offered. I nodded.

“Have a good night.” I said quietly.

I went to sit on the couch and turned on the TV. From the corner of my eye, I watched him put on his shoes. By remaining quiet and indifferent, independent-Perla was back, suppressing submissive-Perla’s desire to beg him to stay.

He grabbed his keys, “I’ll see you, babe.” A curt smile plastered on his face before he turned the locks to leave.

For fear my voice would crack, I nodded. I hated myself for being so damned detached. I failed to protect my heart. My heart ache came from my own making.

‘He is trying to break me.’ I sobbed. My hormones were already out of whack and I couldn’t deal with the emotional torture we were putting each other through. My plan had to work. The Pentagon men had to help me make this all work.

‘Fucking, stubborn woman,’ I muttered under my breath as I turned the locks on her door.

To reject her pains me, but when she gets like that . . . so damned obstinate, I needed to run away for fear I’d fuck her into conforming. I thought I saw a glimmer of compliance when she got on her knees, asked me sweetly what I wanted, and gave me a hot blow job. She’s so sexy, giving me complete control. I want the control all the time. I knew she straddled the line. She’s almost there. I knew I could get her there, but I feared breaking her spirit. To deprive her of pleasure, wants and needs were the way to get her to decide between me and Brady. I gave her too much in the beginning, and now I had to backtrack and fix the damage. It killed me to be cold. There were so many girls and women I’d treated coldly, but it was repulsive to do to her. Perla was the only one I wanted in my life, and she was close to passing my test.

I was worried about her. I hadn’t planned on seeing her until she fucked up again. Regardless of her failure to file the license, she behaved as expected. A ‘little bird’ told me about Ben’s attempts at scheduling a meeting with Perla, claiming it was Parisi business. He no longer had business interests in Parisi, and his claims to have business drew red flags for Carrie, Perla’s Executive Assistant. Thankfully, Carrie checked the connection further, and he was denied. Perla was never told of his attempts. The motherfucker knew to wait and catch her toward the end of her work day. Despite my firing the security team, I was happy she kept one guard on call. By firing her team and not putting a new group in place, I failed her. She had the presence of mind to keep herself protected. The kidnapping may have left her more damaged than she would ever admit.

I couldn’t stop thinking of her mouth wrapped around my dick and her lush body surrendering before me. Her sweet and flirty voice asked me what I wanted. What could I say? ‘Everything! I want everything.’ I wanted her to file the license and be my wife. I wanted to be her husband and take care of her. I wanted to start our family. I wanted my shares back so I could get the fuck out of the company and financially destroy Brady for keeping her away from me and making her doubt us again. The only thing I could use to break him completely was, not just her, but the company. If I could take the company away from him, I would be gratified for the rest of my life. However, it meant taking something away from her too.

Perla created a professional career at Pentagon and she was damned good at it too. I struggled with wanting to rip it away from Brady and wanting to give her the world on a silver platter. The most damage would be to the rest of my friends. They didn’t deserve to have their business taken from underneath them. Pentagon was a blessing and a curse. I couldn’t have the picture-perfect romance if Pentagon remained in the forefront of the picture, overshadowing us and blocking the light on our love.

While I waited for the elevator, I texted Quinton Jensen, the new attorney I hired to oversee the dissolution of the company. Tasked with finding a means to file suit against Pentagon despite my not having full control over my stocks, I retained his services for an astronomical retainer fee. He claimed to be able to find a solution to my problem. Many legal experts assured me Quinton was the best Corporate Attorney in the Northeast.

My cellphone rang when I exited the elevator. For a split second, I hoped it was Perla, asking me to come back to her. I wouldn’t have, of course, but I craved her needing me. The tables were turning, slowly but surely, in the direction I needed them to. Yet, I feared time wasn’t on my side. The ultimatum would expire soon, and I had to be consistent. If she failed to file the license, I couldn’t concede and allow her to be part of my life. She would rule my kingdom, and there was only one ruler. I gave her too much control in the beginning, and my keeping up the pretense that I like to be completely controlled would hurt us both in the end. I didn’t become the man that I am by letting others dominate me.

A look at the caller-id let me know it was Quinton on the other line. “What have you got for me, Quinton?”

“Dr. Keene . . .”

“Matt, please.”

“Matt, I’m still reviewing Pentagon’s bylaws and your prenuptial agreement to Ms. Perla Mercurio, but I’m concerned that she hasn’t filed the marriage license, so technically the shares are still under her complete control. You’ve given her the power to make decisions without your pre-approval. You’ve only restricted her ability to sell, give away the stock, or assign the power to vote to another person. They’re still yours in name only. You’re going to have to file the license or marry her with a new license after it expires. Once that happens, the stocks revert to you, making the ‘gift’ of the stocks null and void as you intended when you proposed marriage. I have to say, this was a very elaborate plan of yours, but better fail safes could have been employed, which would return the stocks to you upon her rejection of marriage or after a certain time period. Your attorney failed to preserve your right to revoke the gift,” he said.

Zipper said the same thing, but I rejected it. I placed too much faith in her selfless nature. I didn’t realize she would turn the tables, even if she was doing so to protect me. And now she was protecting herself, Pentagon, and to some degree, Brady. Her concern for him gnawed at me.

“It was my mistake, Quinton. Can you help me or not?”

“Give me a couple of more days. You gave her an ultimatum. Maybe I can figure out something in the meantime. Also, we should discuss other options for the stock; maybe purchase the transactional rights from her?” I rolled my eyes, but knew it may be inevitable. She didn’t care about the money; never had, and never would.

“She won’t be bought. If that would work, I would’ve tried,” I informed.

“It’s still an option. I can write something up, we can review, and you decide what you want to do when the time is right. Okay?” He asked. I nodded, and grunted a ‘yes’.

I unlocked the door to apartment-816. Even when security moved out, I never gave up the apartment. I wanted to be near her, showing up at a moment’s notice and slipping away just as quickly. I’d put my pad up for sale and received an offer within a few days. My belongings were scheduled to be delivered to the North Shore house and the necessities brought to this apartment. I had downsized to a small apartment when I first divorced. Now that I’m theoretically married again, I’ve moved into an even smaller place. Despite the frenetic movement and sounds of the busy Boston streets, it was more peaceful. When I lived in tranquility, it was unnerving. I needed to hear the chaos in the streets to bring me peace.