Breaking All the Rules (7 page)

Then I clench down on him, squeezing his shaft with my inner muscles, pushing him as I push everyone, forcing a response.

“Fuck.” Nate thrusts deep, smacking his hips against my ass. He rides me hard for several satisfying moments, and I pant with happiness, my hold on his cock loosening, a fine sheen of moisture covering my near-naked body.

Nate is Nate, though, stubborn to the core. He won’t change his plans for me or for anyone else. He slows his pace once more, reestablishing his control over me, over his own body, his restored restraint presenting a challenge I can’t resist.

I constrict around Nate again and he growls, driving into me deeper and deeper, slapping his balls against my skin, digging his fingers into my hips. His punishment invigorates instead of subdues me. I laugh and buck backward, throwing myself fully into the encounter, heart, body, and soul.

As we fuck, rutting like wild animals against the windowpane, condensation forms on the glass and my world narrows to Nate’s cock in my pussy, his hands on my body, his grunts echoing in the quiet office. I cling to the metal frame, my knuckles whitening, my body shaking with the force of his thrusts.

Nate bends over me, the soft fabric of his suit, the silk of his tie, the cotton of his shirt sliding along my exposed skin. He’s fully dressed from the waist up, very much the powerful executive. I’m wearing my corset and heels, shamelessly exposed, his escort, a woman he’s hired to service him, to pleasure him.

I will pleasure him. I undulate under Nate, loving him with every inch of me, not holding anything back. He cups my breasts, his hands large and rough, his hold on me confident and secure, and I arch my back, pressing into his palms, needing more sensation, more of him.

“Come for me.” Nate pinches my nipples. The sharp tinge of pain is delectable, propelling me precariously close to satisfaction.

“Make me come,” I gasp, the rebel inside of me daring him, wishing for him to prove his worth, to push back.

My challenge doesn’t daunt Nate, not even for a second. He ravishes my pussy with control-damaging thrusts, severing my hold on reality, his hard muscle colliding with my soft curves.

We breathe heavily as we fight for our shared release, my lungs straining for oxygen. I’m hanging over an emotional precipice, ready to fall, my pussy humming, my knuckles aching, my knees threatening to buckle under me. I grit my teeth, shaking with need. I won’t come without him. I can’t.

“Camille.” Urgency edges Nate’s voice. “Please.” He sucks on my right shoulder, his lips firm and hot.

He’s asking for permission to come, giving me complete control over his body. “Two more thrusts and then come for me,” I instruct, my deviant soul unable to simply relent, accept, let be. “Come hard.”

A disgruntled rumble rolls up Nate’s chest. He pulls out of me, brazing his cock head along my inner walls, dragging his mouth over my back, and a tremor rocks my form.

“One.” He drives into my pussy, filling me completely, and I whimper, holding onto the window with everything I have, my desire too acute, too exquisitely real.

Nate leisurely withdraws, deliberately tormenting me, his movements aggravatingly slow. I squeeze my eyes shut and a teardrop of frustration drips down one of my cheeks, leaving a salty trail on my skin. He covers my lips with his right palm, his secure grip stimulating me even more.

“Two,” Nate roars, thrusting deep. As his base slams against my pussy lips, he bends down and bites my shoulder, marking my body.

The unexpected pain breaks me, splintering my mind into a million fragments. I scream into Nate’s hand, his skin muffling my sounds of ecstasy, his warmth rushing into me. It’s too much. I can’t hold on, can’t remain standing. I plunge headfirst toward the carpet, falling, falling, falling into the abyss.

Nate wraps one of his arms around me and pulls me back, holding me, a firm steadfast presence amid the chaos, a stabilizing force in a whirlwind of desire. With him I’m free to fly. He’d never allow me to crash, never allow me to be hurt.

I stand, staring at the blue sky, Nate’s breath on my neck, his fingers splayed over my breasts, his warmth inside me. The euphoria fades, reality returns, yet the feeling of freedom, of belonging remains.

Nate licks the mark on my shoulder, his tongue rough and arousing. “I hurt you,” he murmurs, concern in his voice, concern for me, the green-haired freak.

He will hurt me. Eventually. A cautious woman would end this relationship now, before her heart was completely broken.

Caution has never been a strength of mine. “You branded me with your teeth.” I turn in Nate’s arms and gaze up at his handsome face, unable to walk away from him, from the possibility of forever. “I belong to you now,” I declare. “I guess I’ll have to sign your contract.” The decision feels right.

“I guess you’ll have to.” Nate’s stormy eyes gleam with a primitive satisfaction. “You should read it first, though, know what you’re signing.”

“I trust you.” Reading a contract requires thinking, and this is a decision to be made with my heart, not my brain. I stride to his desk, clad in my corset and heels. Nate pulls up his pants, fastens them, and follows me, fully dressed.

“Where do I sign?” I lean over the desk and Nate curves one of his palms possessively over my bare ass, his skin deliciously warm and rough.

He flips to the last page and points to the line. “You should read it first.”

“I never do what I should.” I scrawl my name on the delectably fine linen paper, filling the entire space with my flamboyant signature. The deed is done. My stomach flutters. There’s no backing out of our arrangement now.

“Thank you.”

Nate’s sincerity reassures me. I’ve made the right decision. He needs this contract for some unknown reason.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I force my light tone. “Because I’m keeping your pen.” I clip it to my corset, the gold cold against my heated skin. “It’ll be a souvenir from the day I sold myself into sexual servitude.”

My joke falls flat. Nate’s joy fades, his face growing grim. “You should read the contract.”

I tilt my head back and study him, not knowing what I said wrong. “
You
should uphold the contract and feed me.” My stomach rumbles, emphasizing my point, and I laugh. “I’m starving. You might want to hurry our lunch order.”

Chapter Five

“L
UNCHTIME APPOINTMENTS ARE
the best.” I sit in one of Nate’s guest chairs, clad in my corset and heels, my legs hooked over the armrests, my body open to his gaze. We spent the hour eating and talking. To be more accurate, I talked and Nate listened, my executive growing more and more cold and withdrawn.

“Tomorrow we could have a picnic.” I nibble on a piece of naan, enjoying the flatbread, undaunted by his silence. Nate surprised me with spicy Indian food, dishes I doubt he would order for himself. This must mean he cares for me, at least a little bit. “There’s a park close to the office.”

He stacks the takeout containers. “I doubt it’s a clothing-optional park.” The office smells of curry and sex, an appealing combination. “And if you plan to set up our appointments, you should put that in our agreement.”

I frown. “I thought it
was
in our agreement.” I straighten, lowering my feet to the carpet. “You said I control our appointments.”

“You
do
control our appointments,” Nate reassures me. “I propose the times. You have the option to turn down those times.”

I relax. “Then propose the time for tomorrow at noon.” I wave my hands. “What’s the big freakin’ deal?”

Nate’s lips flatten. “The big freakin’ deal is we have an agreement. If we follow that agreement we’ll both know what to expect.” He taps on his keyboard. “I’m busy tomorrow at noon.”

“Then I guess I can
expect
to eat alone tomorrow.” I can’t suppress my sarcasm.

“And I have a meeting in five minutes.” Nate ignores me, his focus on his screen, his expression cool and detached. “You should get dressed.”

He’s kicking me out of his office. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I jump to my feet and gather my clothes, feeling very much like the hooker he’s hired me to be. “You need to work on your pillow talk, Romeo.”

“The women I pay don’t expect pillow talk.” Nate doesn’t look at me, my executive now in business mode.

“Then what do you talk about after you fuck?” I yank on my skirt and the frayed fabric rips.

“We talk about payment and the next appointment.” He shrugs. “They leave quickly.”

“I’m not surprised,” I mutter. Especially if he’s as snitty with them as he is with me. “Well, I won’t be leaving quickly.” I button my blazer. “We’re living together so you’ll need to master pillow talk.”

“You’ll leave.” The printer behind Nate hums, spewing out papers. “After we’re done you’ll return to your bedroom and I’ll stay in mine.”

I stare at him. “We have separate bedrooms?”

“Of course.” Nate spreads out the papers on his desk. “That was outlined in the contract.”

“You said we’d be living together,” I remind him. “Sleeping in separate bedrooms isn’t living together.”

“I thought you wanted your freedom, Miss Trent.” Nate circles a number on one of the pages. I’m now Miss Trent, a business associate, someone he doesn’t want, doesn’t need, doesn’t care about. “Separate bedrooms will give you freedom.”

I gaze at him, confused. I thought I wanted my freedom also. “But—”

“No buts.” He interrupts my protest. “I’ve sent a copy of the contract to your private e-mail address. Read it. That’s what you can expect from me. Nothing more.”

He’s dismissing me. No one dismisses me. I glare at him. “You can take your contract and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“That’s very mature,” Nate drawls, his cold tone escalating my anger.

“If you wanted mature you should have found yourself another hooker, preferably one sporting her natural hair color.” I stomp around the office, slamming my heels down on the thick plush carpet, not ready to leave him, not yet.

“The exit is that way.” He points at the door, his blond head remaining bowed over the printouts.

“I’m going,” I huff. “Take a good look at this ass, Iceman.” I smack my rear. “Because this could be the last time you’ll ever see it.” I blast though the door, my head held high.

Nate doesn’t stop me, doesn’t say anything, because he and I both know I’m bluffing. I will see him again. The damn man has me wound up so tight, I’m a bit crazy.

Okay, I’m a whole lot of crazy. I double-time it down the hallway, irritated with him, with myself, with the entire world.

“Miss Trent,” a man calls. “About your expense reports—”

“What do you want?” I yell, throwing my hands upward. The tallest corporate clone gulps and sits down.

At least someone responds to my pain. I move even faster, whipping through the reception area, and I jab the down elevator button ten times.

“It only needs to be pressed once,” Gladys, the gatekeeper, advises.

I don’t acknowledge her presence. If I talk to her what I say won’t be nice, and she’s close to a thousand years old. She might have a heart attack. Then I’ll have a death on my hands and no one will take me seriously when I say I’m all about peace and love.

The elevator doors open and the space is thankfully empty. It’s one o’clock. I should return to the legal floor and give Miss Yen at least one more hour of work before I mentally check out for the day.

I never do what I should. I press the button for the ground floor and drum my heels into the tile. My arrangement with Nate is proof of that. The true me never would have agreed to that contract. I signed it to make him happy, and when I did that I promised to follow his rules, to change, to become someone I’m not.

The elevator goes express, descending without stopping once. He’ll try to hold me to that promise and our fighting will escalate until our relationship finally ends. As all of my relationships have ended. With disaster, disappointment, pain.

The elevator doors open and I hightail it through the lobby. Jerome, the evil security guard, isn’t at his post, and the afternoon security guard isn’t giving anyone a rough time. He’s slouched in his chair, his head bowed and his arms crossed, his hat tilted over his closed eyes.

I exit through the revolving doors, step into the sunshine, and release a sigh of relief. I’m free. There are no walls, no rules, no uptight CFOs I’m destined to disappoint.

I play hooky from work for an hour and a half, hiding in the park in which Nate is too busy to have lunch. A hedge divides this natural space from the rest of the world. Rows of yellow, white, and blue flowers nod in the warm summer breeze. I sit on a wooden bench under a tree, slip off my shoes and bury my toes in the green grass, savoring the connection to Mother Earth, to my hippie roots.

I need this connection. Even in my studio apartment there are herbs growing in pots along my windowsill. Will Nate allow me to keep my plants? He said he’d bring over all of the contents of my apartment. Are plants considered contents?

I shouldn’t have signed that contract. I put on my shoes and trudge back to Blaine Technologies. Nate will try to enforce each and every clause in his monster contract and I’ll fight him. That’s my nature.

I have to find a way to sever our agreement. The sleeping security guard doesn’t stir as I walk past him. My friend Kat says there are loopholes in every document. There must be a loophole in Nate’s contract.

I return to the legal floor to do my remaining time. The pinch-faced lady is huffing about a phone ringing. I roll my eyes. She works in an office building. Phones ring in office buildings. Get over it, lady.

“Green,” Miss Yen hollers as I near my desk.

What is it now? I smother my shriek. I can’t handle any more problems today. “Yeah?” I blow into her office and plunk my ass down in the guest chair, not having the energy to be civil.

Miss Yen gives me a dirty look. “Mr. Lawford wants to speak with you. Did you resubmit the expense reports?”

Mr. Lawford can suck my big toe. “Yes, I’ve resubmitted the expense reports.” I cross my arms. There must be a way to terminate our contract.