“Um, excuse me, did I see you come in with Ryker Hart?” I look up to see a beautiful, leggy brunette standing in front of me.
“Yeah, I’m with him.” I reply, although I’m not entirely sure why I worded it like that, because I’m not technicallywithhim.
She looks me up and down in a very uncomfortable, exaggerated way. “Don’t you know there’s a dress code here?” Her lip actually curls into a judgy smile.
I’m clearly not dressed for the club, in Ryker’s sweats, but in my defense, they’re comfy as fuck and have the added bonus of smelling like him. And I didn’t exactly know I was coming here. Stuffing back the tears caused by her blatant judgment, I steele my spine, but before I can respond, I catch sight of Ryker walking up behind her.
“Arabella,” he coos. “Sorry it took me so long. You look adorable in my clothes, by the way.”
I can’t stop my eyes from blinking rapidly. What is happening?
“Amber.” He nudges her aside and reaches for my hand and I take it with a polite smile. “You’ll have to excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
“Of course, Ryker darling. We can catch up later,” she says sweetly as she brushes her hand down his fucking bicep. Oh, no she didn’t.
Nausea envelops me and I want to punch her in her perfectly coiffed cunt the second she touches him. I know I have no right to feel this way. He’s helping me out. We’renottogether and I have no claim over him. He could have any woman he wants and I’m hardly his type with my curves and thick thighs. Besides, this is completely non-sexual.I wish I could convince my vagina of that fact.
As we enter the room, I look around to see it’s mostly black with purple accents. There’s a large wall of toys hung on the wall to the right. Some I recognize from my research, but there are definitely others I don’t.
There’s a large, king size bed in the middle of the room, a desk and high back chair off to the left.
My brain is so overwhelmed, I’m not sure what to make of any of it. It's an intoxicating and heady mixture of fear and excitement.
“Arabella, did you hear me?”
“No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”
His brow furrows, as he steps toward me with both hands stuffed in his pockets. “This is the second time now that you’ve been distracted with your thoughts while I’ve been trying to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, eyes directed at the floor.
He places two fingers under my chin and directs my eyes back to his. “From now on, anytime we’re in one of these rooms or if we’re in a scene elsewhere, I expect your full attention. Unless I say otherwise, you are to be on your knees, waiting for further instruction. Do you understand?”
“What if I don't know we're in a scene?”
“You'll know. Now answer the question.” That firm and commanding tone comes so naturally to him.
“Yes, Sir. I understand.” Have his eyes always been that blue? They look like the ocean and all I want to do is swim in them.
Lifting his brows and crossing his arms, he gestures to the floor. “I’m waiting, sweet girl.” Why does that simple endearment make my pussy throb?
Shit. Okay. I sink down to my knees at his feet, facing the large bed and place my hands on my thighs.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re learning, so I anticipate I'll have to remind you or correct you along the way. You aren’t a mind reader and neither am I. That’s the whole point of this, right?” He pauses, waiting for my brief nod that comes seconds later. “Now tell me. When you said you were thinking, what exactly were you thinking about?”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth as I contemplate how to tell him the list is long and it practically never ends. I don't remember the last time my mind was just silent, if it ever was.
Mom used to tell Axel and I that our father left because we weretoo much for him to handle. The last thing I want is for Ryker to think the same and change his mind about doing this. I’m still not sure why he even said yes.
He told me I need to be open with him if this is going to work, so I look to the ground and tell him. “I was thinking about a lot of stuff. I always am.”
“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he says, perching himself at the foot of the bed. “What kinds of things?”
“I was thinking about Mom. She was crying when I left and I can’t get the image out of my head.”
“What else?”
