Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
No. I was a woman who had made her own choice with an exceptionally attractive man who rocked her world in the bedroom and who was unlike anyone.
He wanted to buy me gifts? Then he was going to buy me gifts. I already knew arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I looked from the box to Jay.
“Are you trying to impress me?” I arched a brow, not sure whether I was teasing him or not. I ached for something light, something easy in this interaction. In any interaction with this man.
“I don’t need to impress you,” he said, not teasing. “I already have you. You’re already mine. With or without the money. The diamonds. The orgasms.”
My teasing smile was quickly gone, the truth chasing it away. There was something ominous about the way he’d said that.
“The bracelet is a symbol,” he continued. “To you and to everyone else that you’re mine. I’ll be buying you more.” His eyes flickered downward. “This is the only thing that you have to wear all the time. The only time you take this off is when this arrangement is over.”
“Like a collar,” I blurted.
His jaw tightened. “If you choose to think of it that way.”
I fingered the stones. Flawless. Stunning. Expensive. Cold. A diamond encrusted collar that signified ownership.
Jay hadn’t put it on me. He hadn’t even moved. He was waiting for me to put it on. Or to snap the box closed and walk away, I supposed.
“It’s a good thing that diamonds go with anything, isn’t it?” I forced a weak smile, taking the bracelet out of the box and fastening it on my wrist.
The small snap of the clasp echoed through my head, the bracelet weighing my arm down with more force than it should’ve. Logically, I knew I could take it off with ease. But even after just one night, could I walk away from Jay with ease?
He stared at me, expressionless, sipping his coffee. He placed the mug down on the island.
“Get up,” he said.
“Up?” I repeated.
He tapped the granite of the island. “Up. I want to eat your pussy.”
Without any further hesitation, I got up. Then I got off.
Later in the day, much, much later in the day, I looked at the closet. Jay’s closet. Mine for forty-eight hours of the week for ... however long.
As expected, it was all black. From the floors to the sleek cabinets to every piece of clothing that hung in there. On Jay’s side, at least. There was color on my side, not a lot, but the effect was severe against the dark interior of the closet.
Unlike the rest of the house, it was carpeted in here. A dark gray, soft against my bare feet. There was a sleek, black granite island in the middle of the closet with drawers containing what I guessed would be a collection of very expensive watches, belts and perhaps a weapons arsenal. Large black chairs were situated at the end of each side of the closet, complete with ottomans in black velvet. Floor to ceiling mirrors were framed silver.
I was eager to see what clothes Jay had bought for me. Or more accurately, Jay had had someone else buy for me. I could hardly imagine the man wandering around Nordstrom or any designer boutique. The thought of him doing anything ordinary in a public environment seemed impossible to me.
I stepped further into the closet while Jay stood sentry in the doorway, watching me. It was something I’d never get used to, the way he looked at me. The way his eyes followed my every movement, made me hyperaware of how I was moving my limbs, how I was breathing.
My fingers trailed along all of the suits hanging in the closet, running over the expensive fabrics, impeccably spaced and organized. There was not an ounce of clutter anywhere, not even a rouge sock or a shirt hanging askew.
“Do you think they’re going to take away your badass card if you let any form of color adorn your body?” I teased Jay, grinning back at the stoic man in black. He was dressed in a black tee and jeans again. Although we’d spent a large portion of the afternoon naked, he never stayed shirtless for long. He’d immediately dressed again in those jeans, that tee. I was wearing the robe again.
He didn’t grin at my words, of course. He just stood there, watching. His face was granite, here was no emotion, as if he didn’t know every inch of my body carnally. The muscles in his arms bulged as he crossed them over his muscled chest. His hair was mussed, curling against his nape in the way that drove me crazy. He must’ve shaved at some point, because his angled jaw was smooth, hard, emerald eyes assessing. I couldn’t understand my body and mind’s reaction to such a remote and rigid man. But there was a reaction. In my very cells.