Tomorrow I will have been with Tristan for a week. I’ve already called him Master. Let him go down on me. And I was resigned to let him fuck me like a whore.
What will a month from now look like? Two months? Three? What about the end of this when he has used me until I’m nothing inside? He’ll have had his fun, and I’ll be nothing more than an empty shell of the person that I once was.
It’s not as though Dad hasn’t been through trouble with the law before. He knows the right attorneys. He knows the right judges. It’s not like we can’t buy them off. It’s been done before.
And am I really even certain that Tristan would turn me over to the authorities? I’m not sure that he would. All of this could be for naught. Maybe it’s time to call his bluff.
I’m standing in the middle of the room not wearing a stitch of clothes and mumbling about pros and cons to myself when Tristan barges into my bedroom. Without knocking. Of course, he doesn’t. The man has no comprehension of boundaries.
“I should have locked that door.” The chances of his not coming into my room were zero. I should have considered that.
“The door doesn’t lock from your side.” Sounds about right, considering his capacity for understanding boundaries. “Do you really think that I’d allow my submissive to keep me out?”
“I don’t care enough to think about what you would or wouldn’t allow your submissive to do.”
I’m suddenly very aware that both of us are standing here very naked.
His roots are Creole. His ancestors are a melting pot of races and cultures, but he could pass for a Greek god. His body is magnificent. All male. Wide shoulders and chest, a narrow waist, lean hips. And he didn’t skip leg day. He’s shredded all over, but not in a way that makes me think he spends all day in a gym.
His skin is a beautiful tone with the perfect amount of hair across his chest.There’s more dark hair around his navel that forms a trail to his groin. I strongly suspect that he grooms since the hair around his balls and cock is short and tidy.
He’s still hard. And the man has a beautiful cock. Long. Thick. I think it’s the biggest one that I’ve ever almost had the pleasure of fucking.
I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to at least partially hide my nudity from him.
“Don’t hide your body from me.”
I’m so fucking tired of him acting like he’s the boss of me. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Your body is mine to look at whenever I like; you are my submissive. And since you seem to be unclear about it, telling you what to do is pretty much the point of this relationship. I order. You obey.”
“You call this a relationship?”
“We are planting the seed that will bloom into a very gratifying relationship. You just can’t see that yet because you’ve never experienced it.”
Gratifying. I have no doubt that this bastard will be the gratified one.
“I’m making a mental list of shit that you’ve done to me against my will in the short amount of time that I’ve been with you, and I’ve decided that submitting to you is becoming less and less appealing. I’m beginning to think that I’m better off taking my chances with the legal system rather than being your submissive.”
“You think I won’t do it? That I won’t turn over the surveillance to the police?”
“I don’t know. But I also don’t have any idea what you’re going to do to me. You’re… ruthless.”
He chuckles. “Not ruthless. But I am intent on having what I want, and I will do whatever is necessary in order to make that happen.”
“An intent man who will resort to any means necessary to have what he wants. That’s pretty much the definition of ruthlessness.”
“I’m not a man who sits around and waits for an opportunity to drop into his lap. I go after what I want, and I make it happen. Period. And I want you.”
Tristan Broussard has a history of getting what he wants. But that stops here. He can’t have me. “Change your mind. Want someone else.”
“No.”
“There’s a woman upstairs who loves and wants you desperately. I’m sure that she would take you back in a heartbeat.”
Claudia is happy to give him all of the kinky shit he wants. Why does he have to go and make this difficult by wanting me—a woman who isn’t interested in the things he wants? Why does he want to force this on me when it’s not who I am?
“You don’t get it, baby.” He fists the top of his hair. “I’m fucking obsessed with you. I’m not going to let you go until this is finished.”
