“I highly recommend you not lie about it.” I tip up my empty glass and set it back down. “That wouldn’t be good for you at all right now.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hushed. “I was nervous.”
I don’t believe her, but I’m too mentally exhausted to psychoanalyze why she felt the need to do a poor rendition of a screaming porno orgasm.
“Whatever the reason, I don’t particularly care. Just don’t fake one again or I’ll ensure you have five in a row that you absolutely will not be able to fake.”
Forced masturbation isn’t a kink of mine, but in this case it might serve as a rational deterrent.
Our food arrives piping hot and on time, and per my calculations our server is now looking at a three percent tip based on the seventeen times he’s taken liberties at checking out my sub.
“Did you grow up around here?” She saws gracefully into her filet and forks a small sliver, bringing it to her rosebud lips.
“No,” I say.
“Where are you from? Or how did you wind up in Salt Lake City?”
“Here in Utah. And it’s just the way it happened, Bellamy. How is your steak?”
“Amazing,” she says. “Where’d you go to school?”
“This isn’t a Q and A session nor is it a getting-to-know-you date,” I remind her before remembering to soften my delivery. I slid my hand across the tablecloth, covering hers. “Let’s just enjoy our meal, shall we? The chef who prepared this meal is co-owner of a Michelin star restaurant in Chicago.”
The questions stop, and as I requested, we enjoy our meal together in silence. After paying the check and escorting her to the chauffeured town car I reserved just for her, I lean over and kiss her cheek. It’s the second time I’ve done it this afternoon, and I normally don’t make a habit of showing many displays of affection if any at all, but she’s been awfully quiet since I nixed her benign interrogation. And while it wasn’t a sexual act of any kind, I’ll offer her a small amount of aftercare in the form of a kiss and some reassurance.
“I had fun with you this afternoon. I needed this.” I brush her arm. “You did well in there.”
“We didn’t do anything for you,” she says, her clear blue eyes match the sky this afternoon.
“Everything in there was for me.”
My driver pulls up behind her waiting car.
“Tomorrow night,” I say. “Press the home button on the GPS of the Discovery. It’ll take you to Golden Oak. Call me when you pull up to the gate, and bring your overnight bag.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was an overnight thing.” She places a pointed finger in the air as if to stop me from going quite yet.
“Oh? I thought I’d made it clear before?” I widen my stance, unwilling to accept her refusal.
“I can still stop over, I might just need to leave in the middle of the night to get home before the sun comes up.”
“Bellamy, you’re not going to have the strength to drive home after I’m done with you. And you’ll be sleeping with me that night. My room is being prepared, and I’m having several items delivered to make your stay especially enjoyable.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Her gaze lands on the sidewalk.
For a moment, I’m hit with a Jenessa flashback. I’m punched in the gut all over again, but I refuse to believe sweet, sultry Bellamy is half the devil incarnate she was.
“This is not up for debate. You belong to me. You’ll do what I say. End of discussion. I’ll see you Saturday night.”
I climb into the back of my Town Car and instruct the driver to take me back to the funeral home so I can finish planning my uncle’s burial with Beckham. After a whirlwind of a shitty week, the only thing I have to look forward to is being balls deep in Bellamy’s sweet as sin pussy tomorrow night.
Dare I say I’m impressed with myself for waiting? The old me would’ve wasted no time plunging my cock into that tightness. Something told me she’d be worth the wait.
As we head across town, I take my phone out to check my email. A call comes in when I’m halfway done scrolling through a quarterly statement from my accountant, and for a second, I debate pressing the ignore button, but then I realize it’s my guy.
My background guy.
“That was quick,” I say when I answer. “Please tell me she’s clean as a whistle.”
“Describe clean as a whistle,” he says.
My heart stops for a second and restarts when we hit a pothole in the road. “Don’t fucking scare me like that.”
Last time, he alluded to digging up some dirt on Jenessa, but I never imagined just how dirty it would be.