“We should get going. My dad’s going to wonder where we went.”
Cortland nods toward a drinking fountain. “Just tell him we went to get some water, and you had to use the restroom and I waited for you out here like a gentleman would do.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything.”
He thinks I’m teasing, and he smiles like he considers himself some brilliant bastard.
***
“Goodnight, Bellamy.” Cortland stands a careful distance from me in the driveway of the main house. “I’ll be over again tomorrow.” He glances at my parents. “Of course, if that’s okay with Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”
Mom claps her hands against her heart, her face twisting into a ridiculously pleased expression.
“Absolutely, Cortland.” Dad stands with his hands on his hips, nonchalantly asserting his dominance over the entire situation the way he always does. “You know, it’s about time we meet your folks. Why don’t we plan a big dinner this Saturday afternoon? Weather should be good. We can grill out. Eat outside. Would be fun.”
“Oh, yes,” Mom agrees. “I’d love to meet your mothers.”
“Sure,” Cortland says. “My parents have met Bellamy at Bible study, but I know they’d love to be able to sit down with you all and forge a closer bond.”
He speaks my father’s language better than anyone else I know.
The three of them all turn to me, like they all share one brain.
“Yes,” I say, offering up a fake yawn. “That sounds wonderful. Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m beat. Going to head up now. Goodnight, Cortland.”
I give a quick wave, since we’re not allowed to touch or kiss or hug, and head inside with a grateful heart: grateful that this night is finally over.
EIGHT
DANE
“How was your evening?” I bump into her, of all places, outside the elevator. She’s early today. Thirty minutes.
She grips the straps of her shoulder bag tight, and I motion for her to go on first. I am, all things considered, a gentleman.
“It was good.” Her words have no flavor to them at all. They’re blanched and bland. She stares straight ahead like she’s in a fog. “Yours?”
“My night was wonderful. Thank you.” I press the button to the fifteenth floor and lean against the railing. A faint perfume fills the small box we share, and I drag her scent into my lungs without her so much as noticing. Gardenia. That’s what it is. Only it’s not as heavy. It’s mixed with something else a bit lighter and complementary.
I love it. It’s subtle and elegant and doesn’t scream for attention like so many of the obnoxious fragrances women wear these days.
The doors ding and separate, and I motion for her to leave first. When she exits, she waits for me to walk next to her.
“I take it you did some thinking last night?” I state the obvious because obviously she wouldn’t be here today if she changed her mind. I slip my key into the double doors that lead into the reception area. It’s just us two for at least the next twenty minutes. I normally use this time to clear my head and prep for the day, but today I’ll make an exception.
Besides, she was extra early today.
For me.
To please me.
Her master.
“Absolutely,” she says. “I’m fired up now more than ever.”
I lick the curve of my lower lip as I try not to show the intense amount of pleasure I get from hearing her say such a thing.
“Excellent. I’ve got a conference call at eight-fifteen, but after that, I’ll make sure Marlene blocks out my schedule so we can continue your training.”
She slips into her office, and I head to mine and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
My fingers drum the wood top of my desk, reaching distance from my phone, and when it finally rings, I clear my throat, let it ring three more times and answer.
“Yes, Bellamy?”
“What is all of this?” She’s breathless, and my only regret is not being there in person to see her face.
The effect wouldn’t have been the same, though.
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” I tease.
“The boxes, Dane.” Her words are rushed, jumbling into one another. “These, these things. Are they all for me?”
“Every last item in those packages was hand-selected for you by my personal shopper.”
My subs only have the best. Red-bottomed shoes. Designer jeans. Red-carpet worthy party dresses. French-tailored suits for the office. Italian leather purses and belts. A collection of high-end cosmetics that would make a makeup artist jealous.
“These things, they’re too expensive for me,” she says. “I-I can’t take these. I can’t accept these…”
“You can and you will. Now stop blathering and come to my office. I’d much rather you show me how excited you are.” I go to hang up, but instead pull the phone back to my ear. “Oh, and Bellamy. Bring the pale pink box with the black satin ribbon.”
A minute later she raps on the door.
“Come in.”
That’s good. She’s learning fast.
Bellamy carries the pale pink box and curious expression on her pretty face.
“Go ahead. Open it.” I fold my hands across my stomach and sit back as she takes a seat across from me.
She sets the box across her thighs and tugs on the end of a ribbon until the knot loosens. When she pulls the lid off, her eyes trail from the neatly folded velvet negligee to me and back.
“What’s this?” She lifts it up like it’s made out of china and not crushed velvet the color of a lustrous midnight. Her cheeks flush instantaneously. “You want me to wear this for you sometime?”
“I want you to wear this for me now.”
Spreading it across her lap, she runs her hand along the tickling texture while biting her lower lip.
“Don’t tell me you’re shy about your body.” I sit up, my eyes departing the fullness of her lower lip and scaling the length of her luscious curves.
She glances up at me. “I’m not shy about my body; I’m just trying to picture how this is going to look on me.”
“That’s not for you to worry about, Angel,” I say. “I’m the only one who’ll ever see you in this, and I know for a fact you’re going to look sexy as sin.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“You can thank me by putting it on.” I motion toward my private en suite bath.
After the longest ten minutes of my twenty-eight-year-old life, Bellamy emerges in the crushed velvet ensemble. The bones of the bustier hug her rib cage and push her breasts high, creating two soft mounds that instantly illicit swelling in my cock.
“Don’t be modest, Bellamy.” I head across the room to where she’s anchored in the doorway. My hands rest on her hips, and I pull her against me. She sucks in a quick breath and flashes an awkward smile that makes me think she feels silly. “You look fucking incredible.”
Her clear eyes search mine though I’m not sure for what. If she’s looking for my approval, I’m not sure what more I can do besides press her against my hard cock. That’s my endorsement right there.
“And you’re going to look even more amazing on all fours sucking my cock while I take my conference call this morning.” I make this about sex, because that’s what it’s about, and the last thing I need is for her confusing palpable lust with romance.
Big difference.
Romance implies love, and I’m not a man capable of such a thing. You can’t give something you’ve never received, and I’m not about to start now.
I grip her wrist lightly and spin her around, biting my lip when her perfect ass comes into view. My free hand takes a generous handful before slicking around her hips to her front side. My fingers tap the fabric just above her mound, and she quivers against me.
“How does it make you feel knowing there’s only a thin piece of fabric dividing my fingers and your most private place?” I breathe into her ear.