She leans over until her lips are against my ear. “I don’t think so. I think someone might earn themselves a punishment if they’re not careful.”
And she moves away, all friction, all tantalising warmth and flesh halfway across the room in an instant.
She retreats, still facing me, until her back hits against the door. “Let me take care of my chores and I’ll be back.”
The words must mean she’s popping out to dismiss Andy and she’ll be right back. They must. Surely. She wouldn’t stay out there, letting me think she’ll return at any moment and actuallydo chores,would she?
I let my head rest against the back of the chair, my prick hard enough to ache, desperate for release, waiting.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
ROSA
It’s agonisingto leave the room with Trent positioned so perfectly. I know the entwining of work and pleasure will come back to bite me but right now I don’t give a shit. All I want is to spend the next few hours taking my pleasure while never letting him get what he craves… until he does.
Until he’s grateful enough that he’s willing to beg.
I grab a robe from the hooks in the hallway and put it on because I’m a professional and dismissing a paid partner from their expected afternoon pursuits requires a bit more armour than the sheer teddy and scrap of lace I’m wearing.
Never say I don’t understand decorum.
“Hey,” I say, schooling my features into commiseration as I walk into the dining room. Andy stands at the notice board, scanning the appointments.
Where possible, we try to schedule around each other so the house isn’t crowded. There’s nothing worse than having trouble with a client while the sound of banging comes from the other rooms in the house. For Kim and Ceecee, who both have school-age children, that means they focus on the nine to three, leaving me free for my afternoons, while Rina mostly works nights.
“Does this mean we have the house to ourselves?” Andy asks, smiling warmly. “Looks like a good system.”
“Yeah, it works for us.” I cross my arms, using that to hold my robe closed since it doesn’t have a belt. “Listen, the client’s changed his mind, so we won’t need you today. I’m sorry to drag you out of your way for nothing but he’ll pay your entire fee.”
“You sure?” Andy steps away from the board. His eyes twinkle. “Or is this part of the cuckold rape fantasy and you’re just waiting for me to overpower you and drag you into the room?”
I chuckle but it’s forced. His teasing makes me uneasy. Usually, someone in the game would have a better idea of exactly why the taunt isn’t funny, but I suppose you get all sorts.
“I’m sure. I’ve just sent through the other half of the money.” A deposit went through mid-week to make sure he’d show.
“Mind if I check directly with the client?”
He walks past me, heading straight for the bedroom, and I stall, unsure of the protocol. Then I think of Trent, completely at my mercy and dash after him, putting my hand on the doorknob first and twisting so my body blocks the entrance.
“Yeah, I do mind.”
“What’s the matter?” Andy asks, his features still playful. “Is he all tied up or something?”
He laughs at his own joke, sweeping me aside and yanking the door open, laughing as he leans against the frame. “Looks like we’re all set,” he says, turning to look at me over his shoulder. “Come on, now. Don’t be all resistant. This is what you booked, after all.”
This is disastrous. I grab his wrist and yank him back, getting properly angry. This isn’t how you treat clients ever and it’s certainly not how you treatmine.
“Get the fuck away from there. I told you, you’re not required, and you’ve got your money. Now piss off.”
Trent struggles to free himself. The twist ties I used to secure him are scored through. It makes it possible to get free, but it takes a lot of effort.
The cuffs would have been better. They have safety releases on the inside for someone opting out of play.
But he wouldn’t have used those. He wouldn’t have let me secure him with the twist ties if he’d known he could get out of them. He’s too scared of what he might do. If they break now, he’ll know. He might never trust me again.
“Get out,” I repeat, sliding between the two men and trying to walk Andy out of the room. The fury builds until I have my hands flat on his chest, pushing, leaving him in no doubt that I want him gone.
But he still doesn’t go. He catches my wrist, leans back to kick the door shut, his eyes scanning Trent and nodding as he sees the belt around his chest, the ties on his wrists, the heavy build of the chair.
