I’m riding him when there’s a knock at the door. “Bella?”
I freeze, but Bobby grabs my hips and keeps fucking me. “Come in.”
Eli opens the door. He’s wearing an impeccable navy suit and carrying a long clothes bag and a cream box. His gaze runs over me. “Good evening,bella.”
Bobby pulls down my tank top, exposing my nipples. “She’s being a good little housemaid.”
“I can see that.”
Mortification flares through me and Bobby’s pounding thrusts feel twice as deep, twice as good. “Um…hi.”
“Still so shy.” Eli places the bag over my desk chair and the box on the table. “This is the dress and shoes you’ll wear tonight.”
“Yes, daddy,” I pant. “Are you… still sure you want me… to come to the contract signing?”
“Of course,bella. You’re ours.” He turns to watch me writhing on top of Bobby. “Will you be dressed and in the dining room by midnight?”
The heavy look in his eyes sends tension crackling through me. “Of course.”
“Glad to hear it, my jewel.” He moves toward me and palms my breasts. “Say ‘thank you, daddy.’”
It’s hard to concentrate when Bobby’s screwing me like a demon. “Th-thank you, daddy.”
Eli’s thumb and forefingers close over my nipples with enough pressure to make me scream. I grind against the base of Bobby’s shaft and he grunts.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Eli says with a glance at Bobby. “You’re not finishing in her?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Eli gives my breasts one last squeeze, then leaves. I feel so slutty and uncomfortable but that doesn’t stop me from having another screaming orgasm all over Bobby. Maybe it even helps.
***
I can barelylook at myself in the mirror. I’ve worn revealing dresses before, but this one takes the cake. Every cake. There will never be another cake because of this dress.
The neckline has a heavy silver collar and dangling from it are dozens of fine chains. They coil around my body like snakes, holding strategic scraps of black silk to my breasts and hips. My skin looks moon-pale against the dark material and the dress has no back, only more chains. They brush across my spine and collect over my ass in a silver pool. You can’t see anything, but it looks like you might seeeverything.
My shoes are sky-high black leather pumps with silver chains down the sides. The overall effect is obvious, even to my inexperienced eyes—I look like a slave girl chained by her owners. Empowered but imprisoned. Luxurious but bare. My entire Velvet House experience in one dress. I pull my hair to the top of my head in a high ponytail and cover the tie with a swatch of my own hair. I keep my makeup simple, lilac lids fading to smoky gray and sheer pink lips.
I turn in the mirror and imagine walking into a room with Mr. Parker. This dress is like an evil twin to the gaudy wedding dress he chose for me. I don’t have to do anything in the contract meeting. Neither do the other guys, really. Eli explained that signing the contract in person is just a formality. Two groups of people forced to meet face-to-face and admit what they’re agreeing to.
For Eli, Doc, Bobby, and Adriano, it means setting aside revenge.
For Mr. Parker, it means never coming near me again. As unrealistic as that seems, I can’t wait for it to be true. I decide my St. Christopher would look silly with the outfit, so I slide it off its chain and tuck the medallion into the base of my ponytail.
“We’re almost free, Zia,” I say to my reflection.
Be careful, bella. That’s all I ask.
I hesitate. It’s been a while since I’ve talked with my internal Zia Teresa, and I know why. “Zia, will you hate me if I have four boyfriends?”
She lets out a long sigh.You young people, always trying new things. Why can’t you just settle down and get married?
“Zia, you hated being married!” I say indignantly. “You told me your husband ruined your life, like, every day!”
A sound that could be a cigarette cough or laughter.Well, I don’t remember that.
I wait. I wait so long it feels like I’ve lost my Zia Teresa voice. Disgusted her into never speaking to me again. I stare at my reflection, watching my eyes go glassy with tears. Then it comes.
