Derision (7 page)

Her attention is aimed down at the floor. I hook a finger under her chin and raise her gaze to mine. “Otherwise, the selection of this dress pleases me.”

She presses her lips together, a small, nervous tell before she says, “The selections didn’t leave much choice at all. My options were either naked or naked.”

This makes my lips twitch on the verge of a smile. I had no idea how mouthy she could be when pushed. “Again, all choices that would’ve pleased me.”

I move in closer, anxious to taste her lips, but she moves back. “You said you’d clarify our…situation once I was dressed.” She raises an eyebrow. “Partially dressed is adequate?”

I do smile now. “Perfectly adequate.” Nudging her plate closer, I nod toward her food. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”

I take my seat, leaving her atop the table next to me, while I stuff a forkful into my mouth. I chew slowly, savoring each bite as she struggles to feed herself, awkwardly cutting into the omelet and then bringing each bite up with a hand beneath, ready to catch any drops.

The notion that I should’ve put her in my lap hits me—and I envision just what it would feel like to take her ass while burying her pretty face in my omelet.

Well, considering she’s still sitting on the table and hasn’t yet fled, there’s hope to indulge all sorts of whims later.

I clear my throat, pushing all temptations away. “It’s not that difficult to understand. You only have two options. The first is you remain under my ownership, where you’ll continue to work at Lark and Gannet, but as my personal paralegal. You’ll get a bump in salary, an excellent insurance package, and you’ll be under my protection. Which means none of the other partners can touch you, or so much as speak to you without my consent. Nothing will change for you, other than you’ll be required to accompany me to The Firm on weekends, where you’ll prove your submission to me.”

Which I need from her more than anything. She’s my pawn in the gambit.

“The second option is to leave,” I continue. “Because now that you have been advanced, you’re simply a liability to The Firm and its members. More so, you’re a threat. They will never trust that you’re ignorant of the details.”

She stops trying to feed herself and stares down at me with wide eyes. “So what…? Oh, my god. They’d kill me?”

To protect what they’ve built, their investments, their identity…some members of The Firm wouldn’t hesitate. But Alexis is mine, and as such, she doesn’t have to fear any of them.

As far as the partners go, they might be sadistic pricks, but they’re not villains. “No. No, Alexis. The threat is not one of physical death, but of your life as you know it. Your career, your reputation, your prospects – the end result may feel like death, but as you have yet to enter The Firm, I’m offering you an out.”

She’s only marginally relieved. “How?”

“Tell me now that you have no wish to advance as my sub, and I’ll inform the partners that last night was a good fuck, but that’s all. You got your feelings hurt when I told you that I had no intention of taking our relationship further. You put in your notice and, embarrassed, took a job elsewhere. One that I will make sure you have, along with a new place and means to start over.”

It’s the only way I can be assured that she’s out of their reach. The partners believe they can use her to toy with me, and so they will.

“Why…but why would you do that for me?” she asks.

Why indeed
. That’s the insufferable question that has no answer. Not yet.

She swallows hard as I study her, the burning questions almost as annoying as her arms blocking my view of her tits. “I mean,” she says, “why not just send me away now and be rid of me as a complication for you?”

This much I know. “Because I want you. Because I desire to possess you.”
Because the thought of anyone else touching you sends me into a fucking rage.
And above all, because I fear what will happen to my sanity if I don’t understand the draw this woman has over me.

“Regardless of my desires,” I continue. “These are my terms. You comply to them now, or you walk out the door. The choice is yours.”

“What if I change my mind later?”

I crick my neck, working out the tension. This, right here, is why I never cared to take a sub. “Once you’re in, it’s not as easy to leave. This should be decided now. But, there is always an out clause. If you choose to leave, you’ll be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement that will prevent you from sharing what you see and hear. Confidentiality is heavily enforced by the law within The Firm. We are lawyers, of course.” I try for a smile, but I can tell it offers her little assurance. “Regardless, no one has ever needed to enforce their out clause, as all members are rigorously vetted beforehand.”

Just as she was.

“Make your choice,” I say, then finish off the rest of my breakfast.

I’m not easily distressed, but the length of time it takes her to mull her decision over has my hand gripping my fork; damn near bending it.

“All right,” she says, and I look up into her green eyes, truly appreciating their deep hue for the first time. The spark of curiosity is there, and I smile.

“All right,” I repeat. “That is your response after so little information?”

For a brief second, her features pull together, my question making her doubt her own mind. “I’m trying to
trust
that you’ll take care to answer all my questions as you guide me along the way.”

My eyes close at her reply. So fucking perfect. My cock throbs with the need to reward her. When I look at her again, I’m decided. I’m taking her to The Firm tonight.

“I will, temptress,” I say. “I’ll teach you everything.”

Our gazes stay locked as I imagine the ways in which I’ll train her. Then I point to her plate, anxious to get started. “Finish.”

As she does as told, I ask, “How did you first hear about the position at Lark and Gannet?” I know the answer, but this is for her benefit. To put the pieces together herself.

Placing a hand over her mouth—so dainty and ladylike—she swallows. “An internship. I was with another firm, one I started at right out of college, and I applied for the internship at Lark and Gannet.” She shrugs.

I shove my plate aside and turn to face her. “You were interviewed?” She wasn’t. She didn’t need to be. The Firm gets first look at all applications into the
internship
, which there are three levels. The one she applied to was not for the law firm. Where paralegals and first year lawyers hope to enter and move up through the company.

The internship Alexis was approved for meant her background was scoured. No simple credit checks or phone calls to previous employers. No, the partners invasively peeled back the cover of her life and read it layer-by-layer, page-by-page, as if it were a scandalous tabloid.

She shakes her head at this, a furrow forming between her brows. Already, it’s starting to sink in. She probably even wonders why she never questioned our methods before. “I wasn’t. I was sent a formal invitation to start the internship.”

I cock an eyebrow. “And your mentor?”

“Julia? What about her?”

Laying my hand on her knee, I rub her soft skin. I’m just simply unable to deny myself the feel of her. “During your first month, did any of Julia’s training feel…less than professional? Invasive, even?”

She shivers beneath my touch, and I attempt to sooth her with the stroke of my thumb. “She was strange,” she admits. “But it was my first internship, and she was just more outgoing than me. Everyone is more outgoing than me.” She glances away.

It’s more than that, though. Julia puts the girls through a rigorous testing procedure. The results are then scrutinized to be the deciding factor on whether the intern is advanced into The Firm.

Most of them fail. It’s more than a safeguard; it’s imperative to the survival of the partners. Only a select number are advanced at any given time, and the rest are either let go, told there are no openings, or they’re allowed to stay on as fun little playthings.

Alexis became neither.

The reason for that decision:
me
.

Once I reviewed her results, simply out of curiosity, I put in my first vote ever. This did more than pique the partners’ interest; it put a target on her back. I took it upon myself to ensure she was left alone. Which is likely where my obsession with her began.

“You should listen to your gut instinct,” I say, then take a swallow of coffee. “You felt something wasn’t right with your training, and yet stayed on. For a year, no less.”

Her slender fingers fidget with the hem of her dress. “I often feel out of place, and I had nothing to base a comparison on.” She looks at me, her long lashes sweeping her cheeks with each nervous blink. “I had never worked at a large law firm before.”

“And when offered an entry position,” I say, rising from my chair. “You accepted. Without questions. Without reservation. Without complaint.” I push her knees apart and settle there, cupping her thighs. “You accepted a lower position than you’re qualified for because you needed the money.”

“Yes.”

The softly uttered word hangs in the air between us, a testament to her docile nature. Regardless if the truth of her circumstance is painful, or even humbling, she accepts it.

I make small swirls along her skin, my fingertips tracing the rising gooseflesh as if her body is revealing a story to be read by my hands alone. I do know the story—the one documented with facts on a timeline—but it’s simply not enough. I want to learn the intimate details that only she can provide.

“You keep to yourself at work.” My hands inch up, taking the hem of her dress with them. “But I’ve seen you watching me. When you think no one is paying attention, when I’m preoccupied, I’ve felt your eyes on me.”

This causes her to shudder, and she tries to flinch away, as if my touch is too invasive—but it’s my words that evoke her panic.

“I’m sor—” she breaks off, stopping herself from apologizing, and I smile.

“You were curious,” I offer.

“Yes.”

“And have I fed your curiosity?” I dip my hand between her thighs, loving how her eyes flutter closed, the catch of her breath. “I don’t believe that a curious nature such as yours will be sated with a simple fuck, Alexis. You’ve only glimpsed the rabbit hole, and you have to know how deep it goes.”

Her eyes open, her lust-filled gaze desperately seeking mine. “I did want you,” she says, her breathy admission slipping over my skin, hot and tantalizing. “I wanted you before I even understood how it was you made me feel these things…”

Her wetness touches me, my fingers eagerly caressing her slick lips and spreading her hot juices around her pussy. “You’re scared, I know. You’re terrified of loving what I do to you, and what that means.”

“I’m horrified,” she confirms. I push inside her then, driving deep as she pulses against me, her hips already rocking against the table and her eyes staring into mine.

“I assure you, as dirty as I made you feel last night, as humiliated as it is working beneath Julia, my attempts will rival them all. Let me break you, tear down your ill-conceived notions, so that you can truly experience the pleasures of freedom.”

Slow, measured thrusts bring her close, coaxing her body and building toward an orgasm. I’m almost tempted to give in; she’s so sexy and inviting, her breathy pants, her thighs pressing against my arms, her walls clenching and begging for release. I’ve never been so tempted to give a woman exactly what she’s craving as I am right now.

But I rein in my yearning and stop. When her wide eyes ensnare me, her questions burning embers amid her irises, I move to diminish all doubt. “Where Julia failed, I would love to further your training.”

Her chest rises with her deep intake of breath. She’s on the cusp, and I can’t think of what it means if she denies me. How far will I go to have her?

“I want to negotiate some terms,” she says.

Mine
. She’s mine. The knowledge of this barrels through me fast and hard, speeding my pulse. The corner of my mouth hikes as I lower myself to my knees before her.

“As one of ours, I would be disappointed if you didn’t.” I grasp her ass and slide her to the edge of the table. Her gasp fuels me on as I take her into my mouth, officially claiming her.

C
ould
I really belong to him—be owned by him? What does it make me that I almost don’t care to consider the consequences?

Weak? Reckless? Damaged?

Have I fallen so far outside the lines of right and wrong that this new blurred realm is where all indecisive women find themselves? This will be my new normal. Dominated and debased by a powerful man, and yet…where I should feel frightened at the risk of losing control over my life, I’m relieved. As if a burden has been lifted from my shoulders and all I have to do is
not
question it.

And as his tongue flicks over me, his mouth masterful and possessive as he devours my inhibitions with every lick and suck, I release the frayed ends of my will. Freeing any and all reservations and letting them dissolve under the swell of my desire for him.

Chase
. His name flits through my mind like a wicked daydream—one that I’ve kept locked away, too ashamed to admit even to myself. I’m not the sexiest. I’m not the smartest or most vivacious. His lust for me is a simple commodity; I am willing to be his possession.

This realization brings me some comfort, or else I would drive myself crazy trying to understand
why me
. What he could possibly desire. No man has ever afforded me this kind of clarity. And for that alone, to know exactly what is expected and demanded, his needs, and why I was chosen… I’m able to at least trust in that.

His tongue delivers a vigorous lashing to my clit, making my muscles tense, and I release an unguarded moan. The feel of his scruff along my thighs sends a hand into my hair, my other to my breast. My body spasms and opens all at once as electric tingles of heat flutter over my skin.

“Demand your terms,” he says against me, driving the ache in my core deeper, the vibration of his guttural voice teasing every nerve ending.

I can barely breathe, never mind get out words strung together in any coherency. He acknowledges my state by slowing, and the ache intensifies into a sharp, demanding pain.

“Tell me your terms while fucking my mouth, or else I’ll prolong this until you’re screaming for release.”

There is no doubt that he will do just that. And revel in my pain.

“I get to call you Chase,” I say, my face flush. Whether from his deliberate tonguing of my clit to make me squirm, or the cringing I feel from such a weak request, I’m not sure.

He nips at my sensitive skin and I flinch, but the hint of his smile spreading across his lips assuages some of my shame. “When in private, you may call me whatever you like. In public, it’s sir. At The Firm, you will refer to me as Master.”

The mention of the law firm as its own entity again has me questioning all of this. However, he said there’s a clause, an out. Whatever danger I find myself in can be escaped. “Yes,” I say, accepting the compromise. “I can do that.”

He rewards me with a slow and sensual caress of his mouth, and the rest of my demands are nearly forgotten. Only one is able to penetrate the haze of lust swallowing me. “I need to be able to contact and go to my brother at any given time.”

He sucks me into his mouth, hard and without mercy. When he releases me, he says, “Done.”

The relief is instant. Selfishly, I dreaded his reaction, worried over what I’d have done had he denied me this, if he had any objections to my dedication to my brother. Before Chase turned my world upside down with just one touch…everything was clear and certain.

I worked as a paralegal at Lark and Gannet. I spent my days wrapped up in cases, my nights alone, dreading the ring of my phone, a knock at my door—the confirmation to the sick feeling plaguing my stomach that my brother was gone.

Living in a constant state of fear and panic has left little room for my own personal desires. Rather, they’re a burden, more easily ignored than recognized.

Then, Chase brought a fantasy to life. Everything is twisted and warped now, filled with heat and sensation. Stirring, carnal want. And I don’t know if I’m more terrified to lose it or embrace it.

The last time a man asked anything of me, he took and took…

“And don’t call me baby,” I blurt as unwanted memories flood back.

This request has the opposite effect of what I want. Chase pulls away, and before I’m brave enough to open my eyes, I feel him before me, his heady scent of cologne intoxicating, his warmth vibrating near.

“Look at me.”

I force my eyes to obey. The depth of his blue irises is startling; the intensity in his gaze a threat. I fear I’ve angered him—that I’ve somehow offended him.

He cups my face, bringing me close. “I would never dare insult you with such a cheap, lazy declaration of my desire for you, Alexis.”

And that’s all it takes. In one fell swoop, I become his. Completely. The brutality of his authority, the derision he’s inflicted thus far and all he promises to come, is swept aside with one intimate lamination of his near affection for me. The fall I’m about to suffer will wreck me so much worse than any scorn he can inflict.

Still, there’s a curious glint in his gaze. A question masked beneath his conviction that flashes red with warning. He hasn’t asked—but he wants to know the
why
behind my request. And even as I’m tumbling, the fear of what he could do with that knowledge harbors on the edge of my consciousness.

Before memories long ago buried can wreak havoc, his lips touch mine, his mouth sealing me to him in a binding contract. “Is that all?” he whispers, his voice so soft I almost believe he’s capable of that tender affection.

But just as quickly, that gentleness vanishes when I nod my answer.

“Speak up,” he orders.

“Yes. That’s all I want.”

That devilish smile curls his lips, displaying the dimple in his cheek. “That’s hardly all you want, temptress.” He proves his claim with an expert caress between my thighs, lighting my body aflame. “Lift your arms.” As I do, he grasps the bottom of my dress and drags it up my body, over my head.

A shiver envelops me, the cool kiss of air licking my bare skin, the sight of him running the sheer material through his hand, stretching it out in front of me. Then with measured control, he raises the banded dress over my head and glides it down my back. Weaving it beneath my arms, he anchors the taut material around me. “Lie back,” he says.

As I do, the dress supporting me as he lowers me to the table, my chest arced toward him as he crawls above, the erotic way in which he poses me this moment shatters all my barriers.

This man could ravage me, body and mind. He could tear me down, and I’d beg him to do it again.

“You’re under my skin,” he whispers so close to my ear his lips graze me. “And the only answer is to deliver a brutal fucking.”

His threat steals my breath, the weight of him pressing me against the table as he covers my body prevents me from filling my lungs, and I know I’ll never take another breath without craving his scent.

He reaches a hand down between us, his movements as he unzips his jeans rubbing me, teasing me, heightening my anticipation. With a harsh groan, he releases himself. His hardness is heavy against the sensitive skin of my pelvis. A pulse reverberates deep within me; the need to have him filling me consumes my being.

Then he’s grinding between my legs, the smooth skin of his thick shaft sliding between my wet lips, drumming up my pulse until my breathing ratchets. A spike of pleasure travels through my back as he rubs against my clit.

Cupping my wrist, he drives my hand above my head, where he clasps my arms together. Rising up, he grinds hard into me, bearing down on my wrists as he physically asserts his dominance.

“I’m going to fuck you long and slow,” he says, each word enforced with a hard thrust, making my back arch off the table. “Make you feel how badly I’ve craved you all these months.”

I suck in a sharp breath as his mouth surrounds my nipple. His teeth graze, his tongue flicks, and as my body reacts, muscles clenching, he drives into me.

His groan travels the length of me as he pushes deeper, opening me up to take him. “
Fuck
. My tight little cunt—how I’m going to punish it for teasing me.”

“I didn’t…” I claim. For some reason, I desperately want him to know this.

Slamming inside me again with a deep, long stroke, just as he assured, he lowers his mouth to mine. “You did, temptress,” he says against my mouth. “Every time you bent over, daring me to take you. Every time you walked past and lowered your head…you were tempting me to make you mine. Now, I’m going to give you everything you begged of me.”

I did—I admit it. I wanted him to pull me into some dark corner and make me forget the world. “I wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by you.” I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze—the one I know is hungry with questions.

My admission spurs him on, his thrusts coming deeper and harder. My hands curl into fists as I wriggle against his iron grasp, seeking to touch him. My legs wrap around his strong hips as he slams into me, over and over. “You will,” he breathes against me. “You’ll learn what it feels like to be owned by me. I’ll memorize every inch of you. From the inside out. Every part of you belongs to me.”

His intimate declaration ignites all the places he’s touching, and those he’s not. As if just saying it, he’s already lain claim to each of those needy parts. And as he rocks into me, driving me closer with each powerful plunge, I tighten around him, desperate to hold onto him as I careen toward climax.

He reads my body, increasing his speed and delivering deep thrusts that have my thighs clinging to him. His name slips out on a frantic pant, and his hips pound against me mercilessly, as if his name on my lips tears away his control.

I come hard. My body quivering and pulsing with electric aftershocks that heighten every time he drives deeper. He releases my wrists and my hands go to his back. I feel him tense under my touch, and the excitement of him filling me steals over, but he forcefully rips himself away.

I yelp as he grasps my ankles and hauls me toward the edge of the table. His breathing is labored, his chest rising with each strenuous intake of air. “Get the anal plug.”

Dazed, I blink at him, but soon his state registers in my lust-fogged brain and I scamper off the table. My legs barely support my weight as I hurry to the bedroom. Dread hasn’t even seeped in yet—until my hands are on the object.

I creep toward him, wariness lacing my limbs. The clear jewel plug clutched in my hand as I take in his changed demeanor. His muscles corded tight. His firm grip on his cock as he strokes himself, causing heat to bloom deep in my core; the sight so carnal and savage, I could wilt under his ravenous gaze.

His eyes devour my body as he stalks toward me then, his hand going to my hair and angling my face to his. His erection presses against my belly, throbbing and making my thighs ache. “Bend over the table,” he orders.

Only he doesn’t give me time to process and act on his demand. He’s guiding me there with a firm hold in my hair, my feet struggling to keep up. My stomach hits the edge, then his hand flattens against my back as he pushes my chest to the table.

His feet spread mine apart, opening me up to him, and my eyes seal shut.

“Don’t clench up. Relax,” he says, taking the object from my hand. The feel of his cock sliding against me encourages his desired effect. I’m still wet and aching from before, and the thought of him entering me again sends a splash of heat all the way to my toes.

He backs away just enough to insert a hand between us, circling his fingers around my slick lips. A quiver rocks my body, and my fingers dig at the hard slab. Then, with sure movements, he spreads the wetness over the tight entrance of my channel. I flinch out of reflex. But the more he massages, the more pressure that builds as he firmly applies his fingers, my walls contract and I’m worked open.

“I will have your ass tonight,” he says, his voice a gruff promise. “You will not remove this unless I give you permission. If you have to use the bathroom, I’ll remove it for you.” I cringe at the vision his words evoke. His voice never sounds abashed, his tone never betraying any of the revulsion I feel when he talks about such things; only absoluteness. “Before we leave this evening, you’ll use an enema to prepare yourself.”

Oh, god…it’s worse. This feeling of shame, hearing him talk about my facilities with such exactness is more than humiliating.

“What’s your reply?”

He rests the teardrop shaped plug to my back entrance, and I gasp in a breath. “Yes, sir.” My response rushes out as he eases in the tip.

A heavy groan follows his lead as he slowly inserts the plug. My legs shake at the feel of pressure, my back taut with strain. His hand slips around my front and his fingers quickly find my clit. The stimulation causes my internal muscles to flex, and the teardrop is sucked in.

“Oh, my god,” I pant, my arms stiff as I brace against the table.

“You’re doing perfectly,” he encourages, expertly working my clit. He slips his hard cock beneath my aching center, his mouth near my ear. “Now. Scream all you want.” Then he’s pushing inside—one deep, hard thrust.

I cry out. My stomach tenses at the feel of him filling me and the heaviness penetrating my channel. My immediate reaction is to push back, clenching to alleviate the spiking pressure.

Anticipating my body’s response, he rests his pelvis against my ass, keeping the plug in place. He continues to knead my clit as his other hand cups my breast, adding stimulation and willing my body to accept the pain as pleasure.

I’m torn in too many directions—too many sensations assault me to focus on any one feeling. With each swirl over my clit, my body spasms, my walls tightening around him. His thick groans follow each contraction, encouraging his heavy thrusts. As if my body’s refusal to accept him only drives him deeper, his thrusts coming more forceful, more possessive.

His chest presses against my back, the friction of his taut muscles bearing down on me a pleasurable command over my body’s resistance. And as he pins me against the table, delivering a brutal fucking…a euphoric clarity grips me.