Uncovering You 2: Submission (8 page)

“This isn’t your TGB,” he says, as if reading my mind. “But I do need you to put it on before I can show you what is.”

I take the mask from him. Our fingers brush, and a jolt of electricity runs up my arm. I curse my weakness.

“Put it over your eyes,” he whispers. He takes my shoulders and gently turns me around. “I will tie it.”

I hold the mask over my face. Stonehart sweeps my hair aside, gentle as a zephyr, and ties the two strings. His hands run down my naked neck, skimming over the ever-present collar.

He brings his nose to my ear and takes a long, deep inhale. “You smell lovely,” he says, his sexy voice rasping and doing all sorts of inappropriate things to my insides.

I have to fight his effect on me. How can my body
respond
to him this way? Rationally, it makes no sense. Just minutes ago, the man slapped me! Why does my reaction to him change so quickly?

He lets go, and immediately my skin tingles for his touch. I take a steadying breath and turn around. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he smiles. “Would you like to see?”

I don’t have time to consider the offer as he takes out his phone and snaps a picture. It seems to please him.

“That,” he says, turning the screen so I can see it, “is a dazzling woman.”

I suck in a breath when I see the picture. My cheek is bright red and swollen from where he struck me.

I can’t bear to see myself like that. “Please,” I say to him, “put that away.”

He frowns. “You do not think you’re beautiful?” He keeps the phone directed at me.

“Jeremy, please,” I beg. “Don’t make me look.”

“Oh,” he says slowly, as if the realization had just started to dawn on him. “You’re troubled by…
this
.” He reaches out for my cheek. I flinch at the sting of his touch.

“Please, Jeremy.”

“Very well.” Stonehart pockets the phone. “A small imperfection only makes you more beautiful.”

I feel an irresistible desire to scream at him, to tell him to stop the mocking compliments. Remembering where that type of behavior got me last night, I shove the urge down.

I don’t speak, though. I’m afraid of what might come out if I open my mouth.

Stonehart motions to the chair. “Shall we?” he asks. He offers his elbow. I take it, and he leads me to the seat.

What this charade is, I haven’t the faintest idea.

He lowers himself into the chair first. Then, he pats his lap. “Here, Lilly.”

I can’t disobey a direct order. I swallow and sit on his legs. He wraps his hands around my tiny waist.

“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re so tense. Your TGBs will be here soon.”

I try to settle into him the way he wants. My body naturally wants to mold into his, and I fight the urge. Being around such a virile male makes me weak.

I hate that I cannot control that reaction. After everything he’s put me through, and the promise of so much more to come, the only thing I
should
be feeling toward him is revulsion.

Yet somewhere deep down, in my very core, desire fights to come to life like a seedling searching for sunlight.

I stomp it down without mercy.

I feel Stonehart’s phone buzz in his pocket. He shifts to take it out. “Ah,” he announces. “They are here.”

He taps the screen, and the lights in the room fade. The only one left is the spotlight shining on the pillar. It’s a strange feeling to look at it from the outside.

“Jeremy,” I ask, tensing up, “what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry, darling,” he says. “I hired some entertainers for us tonight.
Three
of them.”

Just then, baroque music starts to fill the room. It comes from everywhere, giving the impression of being at a live orchestra. There must be speakers hidden in the ceiling and walls.

I hear the door behind us open. I crane my neck. The light from behind them illuminates two men, dressed in all black, rushing to fit a queen-sized frame through the door. I watch, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity building in my gut, as they run and place the frame on the floor directly beneath the spotlight. I sit up to get a better look, and Stonehart’s hand tightens around my waist.

“Stay where you are,” he warns.

I fall back. The two men return with a mattress, and put it on top of the frame. The music continues in the background. One of the men unravels a sheet, and the other darts away to bring in pillows. Soon, there is a beautiful, perfectly made bed in the center of the room.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Stonehart whispers, “and no, that bed is not for us. At least, not for tonight.” He voice becomes an octave lower and a pitch deeper. “Instead of
us
fucking,” he rasps in my ear, “I thought we could watch others do it.”

“What?” I hiss.

“You heard me.” Stonehart’s hands press into the flesh of my belly protectively. “Enjoy the show.”

The music picks up. Three beautiful women trail in. Each is wearing a silk, sheer gown. The flowing garments differ only in color. One is red, the other violet, and the last blue.

The three women hold hands and run around us once, graceful as ballerinas. Their steps are timed to the music. They giggle and laugh as they throw ribbons of lace in the air.

Stonehart settles back, clearly comfortable. I sit on his lap strung tight as a violin string.

When one of the dancers makes her way to the bed, the others follow. She falls back, her dark hair spread around her head, and beckons the one in the blue to kiss her.

They start to make out, hot, sensual, and lusty. The third woman gently caresses their combined bodies.

Not half a minute later, I feel Stonehart’s hand travel up my leg. I squirm and press my knees together, hoping to deter him.

“Lilly,” he says in my ear, “the show is turning me on.”

His low growl makes my clit throb. I shove the sensation away.

Stonehart is not a good man
, I want to scream at my body.
Stop reacting to him!

Thankfully, his hand does not go farther than my thigh. My eyes focus on the three lovers again. Their tops have come off, and they are consuming one another, absolutely uninhibited by being watched. There is something very subtle and sensual about the way their bodies come together. It is not crude and forced, but softer, more like art. More like…
real
lovemaking.

Another unconscious pulse of heat runs through me. I clear my throat to try to forget Stonehart’s hand lying against my bare skin.

That only draws his attention back to me.

My breathing quickens as Stonehart forces his hand into the smooth recess between my thighs. Conflicting emotions rage through me: Revulsion at the way my body responds to him. Disgust with how weak he makes me. And, beneath it all, an undeniable current of
need
.

I try to ignore it all. I try to ignore the moaning that is filling the room. I try to pretend the steady fingers that are massaging me are not there.

But when the first ripple of pleasure spreads through my body, I can’t help a sharp intake of breath. Stonehart makes a sound of amusement behind me, and redoubles his efforts. I shudder as another splash of pleasure rocks my body. I want to push his hand away, to stop the onslaught on my senses. But, I can’t. I’m not
allowed
to fight him… not unless I want to evoke his wrath.

I dig my nails into the armrests, instead. His fingers keep moving, making my body thrum like a well-tuned harp. The darkness of the room and the performance before me does not let my mind focus on anything
but
sex. My heart beats faster, my breaths become rapid. I can feel my breasts becoming heavy and tender. I do everything I can to fight the visceral, animal reaction that Stonehart is evoking in me.

It’s no use. I give another little gasp as one more wave of pleasure breaks through my defenses. The three women are now totally consumed in a powerful ménage a trois. Their cries and moans and all the slippery sounds of sex fill my ears, making it impossible
not
to feel turned on.

“You’re close,” Stonehart rasps. I bite my lip and give a muffled sob, shaking my head.

“You are. I can feel it.” His free hand darts up and kneads my breast. The air leaves my lungs in a burst.

“Come for me, Lilly-flower,” Stonehart says. “Come for me now!”

The command rips open the floodgates. I gasp as the enormous, built-up wave of arousal crashes into my body. For a moment, I soar, lost in a sea of pure ecstasy, before coming back to earth.

Stonehart gives a shuddery moan and withdraws his fingers from between my legs. “Taste,” he commands, bringing them to my lips.

I have no choice but to lick them, for the first time ever, tasting my own juices. Stonehart pulls his fingers out of my mouth and brings them to his own. His clasp loosens on my waist. I have no resistance left as my melted body sags into him.

Chapter Thirteen

I wake up late the next morning. I’m alone. There’s a kink in my neck from falling asleep the wrong way in the chair.

Stonehart got up and walked out moments after he brought me to orgasm. I was left alone in that room, an uncomfortable spectator. The girls paid me absolutely no mind. When their games finally finished, they lounged on the bed in a sweet, unhurried embrace for a long time. I didn’t dare stand or talk to them, even without Stonehart present. I did not want to break any of his rules.

At first, I wasn’t sure how long they would be there. But eventually, they stood up, one by one, and filed out. I fell asleep in the chair soon after. Remembering Stonehart’s reactions when he found me in it, I did not want to risk the bed.

I stretch and roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tightness. The morning sun reflects off the glassy sea outside, bathing the sunroom in a cool, fresh light.

Excitement fills me as I stand up. The day is beautiful, and soon, I will be able to redeem my first freedom.

“Who are you, Stonehart?” I mumble under my breath. Today, I intend to find out.

I go to the breakfast room, where my food is already waiting for me. There is a folded note leaning against the plate.

I sit down and open it.

Lilly,

An unexpected business trip sent me away. I will be gone for three days. I have not forgotten about your reward. You will find the door before you unlocked. I have extended the collar’s range. You are allowed anywhere in my home except my office. Rose will give you a tour.

Do not leave the house. You know what will happen if you disobey.

I hope you will give me no reason to regret my decision.

- J.S.

The note falls from my hand and I stand on unsteady legs, food forgotten.

The door is unlocked
.

I walk up to it in a daze. My hand closes over the handle. I take a deep breath, and push down.

Disbelief fills me as I feel the handle shift beneath my fingers. The lock opens, and I push the door outward.

A long hallway stands before me, illuminated by soft lights running along the ceiling. The cinder block walls are painted an earthy brown. A lacquered red hardwood floor reflects the light.

I bring a shaky hand to my collar. This is it. When I take my first step, I’ll know if Stonehart is playing another cruel game with me, or if he actually stands by his word.

Adrenaline pulses through my body as I inch my foot onto the hardwood floor. Carefully, I shift my weight onto it… and wait.

Nothing happens.

I steady myself against the doorway and pull myself through. I take a few careful steps forward, waiting for the telltale tingle under my ear.

Nothing.

Astounded, I continue walking. Slowly.

Stonehart told the truth
.

With a pounding heart, I make my way down the hall. My hands are outstretched to either side of me, trailing along the walls. The feel of the coarse cement under my fingertips is electric.

I glance over my shoulder every few steps, hardly believing this is real, half expecting to be shocked at any moment.

At the end of the hallway is a set of grand oak doors. They remind me of the ones in Stonehart’s office. The ones I saw more than six weeks ago.

Jesus Christ, I’ve been here for a long time. I stop for a moment and wonder if anybody in the outside world is thinking about me. Sonja and Fey must have heard that my internship fell through by now.

But then again, how would they? They likely think that I’m busy working. Hell, they’re probably
happy
I haven’t called them yet. It must mean that I’m so busy living my dream.

I give a sour chuckle. If they had any idea…

I open the final set of doors and come upon a magnificent lobby. No. Magnificent does not even begin to describe it. It’s simply… sublime.

It’s a circular space on the ground floor. High above me—higher even than the ceiling in the sunroom—hangs a pure crystal chandelier. I think it might be worth more than the entire building of my old Palo Alto apartment.