Authors: Winter Renshaw
DANE
“Sleep well last night?” I bump into Bellamy outside the
elevator bay Friday morning.
“You’re cruel.”
She pushes past me, hoisting her bag over her shoulder, but
I take her by the wrist and pull her back. It’s early yet. We’re the only ones
here.
“You’re brave to speak to me in that tone. You’re lucky I
don’t take you over your knee right here.”
I pull her into me, locking her into a hold.
And then everything changes.
She’s smiling.
Wearing the stupid grin of a happy girl with sparkling eyes
and looking at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her. I
release her, and her pretty beam fades.
“Have I redeemed myself yet?” Her blue eyes widen, and she
tugs her lower lip between her teeth.
She needs that sweet release, the one I’ve been withholding
all week. Her body begs for it as she wriggles before me, hardly able to
contain her fidgeting in my presence. I’m staring at the human version of a cat
in heat, and I’m the only one who can help her.
Like I said before, sex is power.
I take her hand and lead her to my office, and she locks the
door behind us like a good sub.
“Tomorrow.” I release her and take a seat on top of my desk,
my hands gripping the ledge of the wood in order to deter myself from gripping
every womanly curve of her sinfully delicious body. “Tomorrow, I’m hosting a
party at Golden Oak. You’re to be at my side the entire time.”
“What…kind of party?”
My arms cross, and I smirk. “Don’t worry. It’s not a kink
party it’s a gala. You’ll be dressed in an evening gown and nothing that won’t
reveal anything I’m not willing to share with the rest of the world.”
“I’d ask why you’re springing this on me at the last minute,
but I’m sure it’s just another one of your tests.”
“You know me well.”
“I’ll be there. I’m going to have to sneak out. And I can’t
stay the night.”
“You have to stay the night.”
Her jaw hangs. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’d love to.”
“I won’t pretend to completely understand your particular
situation at home, but I will say that overnight travel will be a required part
of this job in the very near future. At some point, you’ll need to figure out a
way to make it work.”
“I’ll plant the seed with my parents next chance I get. You
understand I can’t just spring something like that on them.”
I reach for her and pull her close, inhaling the scent of
her clean hair. I’m not sure why I’m doing it.
I’m not an affectionate man, and I’m
certainly not one to offer up romantic gestures willy-nilly. Maybe it’s the
tension I’ve created, and maybe in tormenting her, I’ve tormented myself as
well, but she’s fucking irresistible, and I can’t help myself not to touch her.
In less than forty-eight hours, I’ll get my sweet release,
and if she’s a good girl, she’ll get hers. I’ve dreamt of plunging my cock deep
into her pussy on a nightly basis since the day I first saw her, and I’ll move
Heaven and Earth to ensure it happens.
“I’m having a dress delivered for you this afternoon,” I
say.
“Is it small enough to slip into my weekend bag?”
“No.” My palm rakes against her back, falling lower and
lower still until it reaches the gentle curve of her ass and fills my hand with
a firm squeeze. “I’ll bring it to Golden Oak. You take care of your hair and
makeup, and then you can slip into it as soon as you arrive.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“I told you, you’d never have to worry about a thing, did I
not?”
I leave her side and wander to the other end of my desk,
pulling out a drawer and handing her a red Cartier box.
“Here,” I say. “A replacement for the necklace you broke.”
She holds my
gaze, frozen.
She hated that necklace. I’ve never seen a woman tear off a
Cartier diamond necklace like that before. And amidst all the word vomit
happening that particular day, I distinctly recall her comparing it to an
animal collar, which she heavily resented.
I crack open the
box and present a pair of champagne diamond earrings. Two warm, golden stones set
in rose gold dance in the natural sunlight. “Try them on.”
Bellamy’s hand glides over her chest. “They’re beautiful,
Dane. Thank you.”
“I know you hated the necklace.”
“I did.”
She takes the box and removes a diamond earring, cupping it
in her palm and examining the facets and the way they dance in her hand.
“These are still an item of ownership,” I remind her. “But I
hope this one will make you a little more comfortable.”
“These I can do.” There she goes with that smile again, the
one that gives her rosy cheeks a faint glow and sends a shimmer to her sky
blues.
This isn’t good.
BELLAMY
My heart pounds hard in my ears, the same ears donning an
exquisite pair of champagne diamond earrings.
The house is asleep. It’s just past ten. My father is
sleeping at Kath’s tonight, and my sister and mother are out cold. A soft glow
from the light above the kitchen stove lights the path down the stairs, and my
keys are clenched tight in my hand, ensuring they don’t make as much as a
jingle.
I’m a vision of mascara and lipstick, hair-sprayed hair, and
Dane’s favorite perfume. Jeans and a t-shirt hug my body now, but they’re only
temporary. Within an hour, I’ll be squeezing myself into the most elegant
Italian silk dress I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I take the steps one at a time and in slow motion, my sweaty
palm slicking down the oak railing. When I make it to the landing, I take a
deep breath and tiptoe to the front door, pressing my body weight into the lock
in an attempt to muffle any clicking sound that might echo through the quiet
house.
A gentle snap and the careful twisting of the knob precede
my freedom, and I pull the door closed behind me soft and slow. My heels click
loud against the concrete of the front porch, and I waste no time yanking them
off and sprinting barefoot in the grass until I get to the Land Rover.
As soon as I’m in, I press the ignition, and it comes to
life, purring like a sleepy kitten. I glance up at the house one final time,
ensuring it’s still as pitch
black
as it was when I
left it and press the HOME button on the GPS.
“Forty-six minutes until you reach your destination,” the robotic
woman’s voice informs me.
***
His road is dark and lined with a canopy of thick, ancient
oaks and smack dab in the middle of nowhere. I spotted his estate from down the
road, shining like some sort of beacon. A lavish party is happening behind
those walls, the kind of event I never would’ve dreamt of being a part of in a
million years.
I stop at the gate and press the call button.
“Golden Oak,” a man says through the speaker. “Name please?”
“Bellamy Miller.”
The black metal gates clink and part, and I drive forward,
pulling up to a two-story porte-cochere and parking behind a white limo. A
young man in a tuxedo runs to my door, opening it and doing a double take when
he sees I’m in jeans.
My cheeks flush hot. I don’t think I’m supposed to come in
this way.
“Is there another entrance?”
“
Mademoiselle
?” An
older French woman in a gray dress comes out of the shadows. “
Mademoiselle
Miller
?”
“Y-yes.” I point at myself.
“This way, please.”
She takes me by the crook of my arm and pulls me to a side
door, whisking me up a private set of stairs. The faint lull of conversation
mixed with laughter travels up the winding stairs.
“
Monsieur Townsend
is expecting you.” She smiles until her gaze falls to my jeans and t-shirt.
I follow her to a grand suite where my dress is hanging up
against a tri-fold mirror.
“Anything you may need is in the en suite bath,” she says,
glancing at her watch. “Fifteen minutes. I’ll wait out here and take you down.”
“Thank you,” I say. “What was your name again?”
“Mathilde.”
“Thank you, Mathilde. I’ll be just a minute.” I shut the
door behind her and tear out of my
clothes,
careful
not to unravel the flawless chignon I managed to twist my hair into before I
left.
A black lace thong and matching strapless bra rest in a
pale pink box on a tufted chair in the corner.
I slip into those and
step into the black evening gown. A final spin in front of the mirror, and I’m
ready.
When I pull the door open, I’m not expecting to see Dane,
but there he is.
“Oh. Hi.” I bite away a smile, feeling my face flush from
the way his eyes devour me from where he stands.
“I heard you were here,” he says, pushing into the dressing
room and shutting the door behind him. “I couldn’t wait.”
“Who’s impatient now?”
“Watch the way you speak to me, Bellamy.” He reaches behind
me, giving my rear a pinch. “Did you forget who’s doing the tying and cuffing
tonight?”
“Are you threatening me, Master?”
I’m flirting with my Master, and I’m not even sure that’s
allowed, but he’s letting me. Something about him feels different lately. Our
dynamic has shifted. He’s lighter around me, shedding layers perhaps. I’m not
sure he knows he’s doing it, but I’m not about to point it out.
He leans in, nipping my earlobe. The heat of his breath
against my neck sends goose bumps down my arm that travel a bit further and
exacerbate the warmth that’s resided in my core all week. The gentle scratch of
the lace fabric against my cleft is torture, but being pressed against a
tuxedoed Dane who looks about three seconds from ripping my dress off is even more
so.
A knock at the door disrupts our private party.
“
Monsieur
.” It’s
Mathilde. “You’re needed downstairs. The caterers would like a word with you,
and Senator Harris would like to say goodbye before he leaves.”
“A senator?” I ask. “What kind of party is this again?”
“A charity gala.” He takes my hand in
his,
leading me down the stairs like a debutant. Before we round the corner to the
final set of stairs, he turns to me and stops. “You look beautiful tonight,
Bellamy.”
“Thank you.” I reach for my champagne earrings, twisting
them.
“Tonight you’re my date,” he says. “Stay next to me. You
don’t need to walk behind me or hang your head. Tonight you just need to be
yourself.”
Dane brings the top of my hand to his lips, offering a small
kiss that only serves to reiterate that I’m a classy lady tonight.
We float down the stairs hand in hand, all eyes on us the
moment we hit the landing. A pianist plays on a polished Steinway in the
corner, and I instantly recognize Chopin’s
Nocturne
20
.
“Chopin,” I say with a happy sigh.
“You like Chopin?” A server with a tray of champagne passes,
pausing before us long enough for Dane to grab two flutes.
“I don’t like. I love.” Growing up, our music options were
always relegated to classical or Christian. Chopin was my Nirvana.
My musical escape.
Everything about this night has my name on it.
“Your drink of choice, if I remember correctly,” he teases,
handing me a flute.
“Thank you.” I lift it toward him before taking a sip, my
gaze traveling toward the haunting tune coming from the back of the grand
piano.
“Do you play?” he asks.
“My sister does,” I say. “I took vocal lessons. She took
piano.”
“Dane, thank you for the entertainment tonight.” A burly man
with gray-flecked temples pats Dane on the back.
“Senator Harris,” Dane says. “Thank you for coming. Your
donation is much appreciated. As is your support.”
“He does good work, this one.” Senator Harris grips Dane’s
shoulder tight, flashing a politician’s toothy grin and letting his paw fall. A
round-faced woman in an emerald evening gown smiles from behind him. She must
be his wife. I offer her a knowing wink and a nod, from date to another, and
she returns my gesture with a smile.
I lift the flute to my lips, pulling in a careful sip that
doesn’t smudge my lipstick. “So what’s this charity? What kind of work do you
do?”
He studies my expression and lowers his drink. “I sponsor
lost boys.”
“Lost boys…” I glance around the grand hall. “Like the boys
who get kicked out of FLDS compounds when they’re teenagers?”
I’ve heard a handful of tragic stories, mostly involving
teenage boys being edged out of fundamentalist communities by corrupt elders
bent on skewing the male to female ratio.
“Exactly.” He places his hand on the small of my back.
“That’s an interesting charity to adopt,” I say. “What made
you want to get involved with lost boys?”
He clears his throat, his gaze scanning the room before
returning to me.
“Because I was one.”