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Authors: Winter Renshaw

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BOOK: ARROGANT PLAYBOY
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Instead, she stills in a solemn
silence.

“You’ve been taught to obey,
haven’t you?” I ask. “Or is it a natural obedience?”

Standing this close, I see how
clear her eyes are. They’re colorless yet bright, crystalline with a touch of
sky blue.

“I’m a firm believer in the
fact that everything happens for a reason, Bellamy. It’s not often that I dole
out second chances. In fact, it’s quite rare. But I’m willing to give you one
more chance because for some reason, I find you completely infuriating and
fascinating and a dynamic like that could make for a satisfying partnership.
Have you any interest in becoming my sexual submissive?”

She swallows audibly yet holds
her head high like she’s still deciding if I terrify her or turn her on. I
don’t want her to be afraid of me. I don’t get off on the fear. I want her
respect. I want her submission. I want her to give herself, all of herself, to
me.


I need a job
.” Her admission comes via gritted teeth and a set jaw.

“Do you understand what you’re
agreeing to, Bellamy? You’re not going to be some secretary. You won’t be
filing paperwork or returning phone calls.” My hand meets her jaw, running the
pads of my fingers along her baby soft skin. “Your official title will be
concierge, but your primary duties will be sexual in nature. For all intents
and purposes, you’ll be a hybrid employee.”

“Hybrid?”

“I’ll use you
professionally…and personally.” My stance widens, as my hand drops down her
goose-bumped skin. “And my offer still stands. Twenty grand per month because
this position can be intense, demanding.”

Her gaze drops to my feet, and
she wears the expression of a woman contemplating the selling price of her
soul.

“I’m going to push your limits,
Bellamy. I might make you uncomfortable, or I might give you more pleasure than
you’ve ever known. That part is up to you.” I reach for her chin, tilting her
face up until our eyes meet again. “I’m a complicated man who prefers all other
facets of his life to be…
uncomplicated
.
This is my release.
You
will be my
release.”

She pulls in a slow drag of a
breath.

“Are you a virgin, Bellamy?”

“That’s a personal question.”
Her response comes without pause.

“It’s a relevant question, and
your job offer is contingent upon the answer.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

Her arms cross tight along her
chest. “No, I’m not a virgin.”

“Well, then, I think you’ll do
just fine here. After all, it’s just sex.”

Her face tilts slightly, just
enough that the sun peeking in from the clouds outside my window illuminate the
delicate angles of her face. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Obstinate as hell but
exquisite in every other way.

I envy the man who enjoyed her
first.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll accept
the position.”

A slow, half-smile claims my
lips. Getting what I want never gets old.

 
“Would you like a preview?” I propose. “A
sample, if you will?”

Her eyes close softly, and she
nods. I take her hand, squeezing it securely as it trembles in my palm. I lead
her to a closet in the back of my office, pulling the door open to reveal a set
of fur-lined cuffs attached to the back of the door. With one hand gripping her
wrist, I lift her arm up to the restraint and secure it. As soon as her second
hand is restrained, I back away and admire my work.

“How does it feel, Angel?”
That’s going to be her nickname. It suits her well. A girl with the face of a
saint but the body of a sinner should wear no other name.

Her chest heaves as she
swallows deep breaths, one after another. “Different.”

I step closer, our eyes locked
tight as I breathe in her clean scent. My hand finds the band of her
waist-cinching pencil skirt, and I tug her shirt out in one quick pull. With my
fingers working the buttons with slow intention, I lean in and graze my mouth
just above hers, not gifting her with a real kiss just yet.

Her eyes wince and then relax
before closing completely. She breathes me in, exchanging the air between us
along with our power.

Before she has a chance to
anticipate my next move, I press my mouth into the flesh of her neck, tasting
her sweetness and working my way down to the spot just below her collarbone.
Her flesh slips between my teeth as I suck and bite, my cock throbbing each time
she squirms against the back of the door.

If this gets her going, she
hasn’t seen anything yet.

Without warning, I step away,
and her eyes flash with a wild intensity.

“Why’d you stop?” she breaths.

“I told you. It was a sample.”

“So you just like to tie women
up and kiss and touch them?”

My face cocks as I rake my hand
along my jaw. “I’m not a pervert, Bellamy. When you put it that way…you make it
sound…”

“What’s in this for you?”

“Do you really need to
understand what I get out of this?”

“Untie me.”

I shoot her a scolding glance.
“You should address me as
Master,
and
you should ask me politely.”

Her lips wiggle and dance.
Perhaps it’s her nerves, but this isn’t the time or the place for humor.

“It’s not funny, Bellamy. This
isn’t meant to be cute. If you’re not capable of taking this seriously, then
clearly you’re not what I need.”

“Please untie me,
Master
.”

My cock pulses. I lunge for her
restraints and slip them off her wrists before shutting the closet door and
turning to face her. “You’ll work Monday thorough Friday, my schedule, and
you’ll need to be available during nights and weekends, whatever suits my whims
and urges.”

“Nights and weekends?”

“Is that going to be a
problem?”

She glances out the window
behind me, deep in thought for a moment. “I’ll figure out a way to make it
work.”

“You’re unmarried, correct? No
children?”

“Right. None of…
that
.”

She speaks as if those things
repulse her, which is perfect. I’m not marriage material, and I am certainly
not a family man. The last thing I need is a woman believing for two seconds
that she can mold me into what she wants, that she’ll be the one to change me.

That’s not how I work.

“Excellent.” My phone rings,
likely my nine A.M. conference call with my half-brother, Beckham. “We’ll
hammer out the rest of the details later. For now, you’ll need to head down to
Laurie in H.R. to complete your hiring packet.”

“Will I have an office? Or will
I just be in here, with you?” Her naivety is almost endearing.

“Your office will be right next
door. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I grab the receiver off my desk and take a
seat, watching the way her hips sway as she walks out the door. I’d give
anything to hang up this phone and grab a handful of her curved ass in my hand.

As of now, that ass is
officially mine, and I’m counting down the days before it’s stinging warm and
she’s wriggling in my lap against the crack of the paddle.

After all, I still need to
punish her for lying.

FOUR
 
 

BELLAMY

 

Questions swarm my mind, mixing
together in a slurry of confusion and excitement.

What just happened in there?

And what did I just agree to?

And what kind of company
has
these types of jobs?

Is it legal?

On what planet is any of this
normal?

And why do I
not
feel as if I’ve just been sexually
assaulted?

At least I’ll be paid well.
Twenty-thousand dollars a month well.

I tuck my shirt back into my
skirt and smooth my hands along the buttons until I no longer look like I’d
been hot and bothered two minutes ago.

I’m blushing. My cheeks fill
with red that radiates straight down to my core. When Dane almost kissed me, I
thought I was going to lose it. It’s a miracle I stayed as composed as I did
because all I could think about was the way he would feel inside me.

The intoxicating bite of his
expensive cologne still lingers in my lungs. I want to bathe in it and never
forget the way it swept me away for a small portion of my young life. His
cologne makes me feel fancy. Sophisticated.

Like there’s a whole other
world out there waiting for me to explore.

A world like I’ve never known
and in which I undeniably belong.

My mind is stuck on Dane like
it’s on a loop, replaying the last hour over and over, the good intensely
dominating the bad.

I walked in this morning
thinking I’d be filing papers and typing memos all day. Never once did I ever
imagine a scenario in which I’d be agreeing to sexually submit to some arrogant
suit.

The hunger in his eyes and the
way he subtly licked his lips as his gaze dripped down me slow like honey
melted my concerns and strengthened my resolve. Sex with a very handsome man
might not be the worst thing I could’ve stumbled into.

But I didn’t love the
restraints.

At all.

Sigh
.

“Laurie?” I knock on the door
with the H.R. sign hanging next to it. “I’m Bellamy. Dane sent me here to sign
some paperwork.”

She looks up over her
red-framed glasses, her pearls pooling into a puddle on her desk.

“Yes. I’ve been expecting you.
Come in. Have a seat.”

I took a human resources
management class at college once. I don’t remember much about it besides the
fact that H.R. is meant to protect the company from certain liabilities. Most
people think the H.R. department is their personal liaison, someone to turn to
when they’re having troubles with their superiors or an unfair policy.

Laurie’s job is to serve the
best interest of the company, which is exactly why the first document resting
atop the stack of paperwork is a non-disclosure agreement.

She
knows.

How many have come before me?

“This is standard,” she says,
sensing my reluctance. “Feel free to take it to your office and read it over.
There’s a consent form in there that you and Mr. Townsend need to complete
together. If you have any questions, I’m a phone call away. The insurance forms
are pretty self-explanatory. Don’t forget to sign and date the background check
authorization and complete the emergency contact form.”

I gather the stack of papers in
my hand and nod toward the door. “Dane said my office is next to his. Would it
be unlocked?”

“Everything’s ready for you.
Your key is on your desk. I.T. has set up your computer. There’s a company
directory in your top desk drawer.” Her words are short and curt, like she’s
telling me, “You’re a smart cookie. You got yourself into this. You’ll figure
it out” in not so many words.

I suppose she’s exactly right.

When I leave Laurie’s office, I
bump into a group of women standing around the reception desk laughing and
chatting idly with fancy, enameled mugs in their manicured hands. The
conversation ceases as soon as I approach, but one of them offers me a kind
smile.

“I’m Bellamy.” I stop and
introduce myself. Humanizing myself always seemed to work with the mean girls
at school. People tend to be kinder in their judgments when they realize you’re
not much different than they are or at the very least, that you have a name.

Marlene introduces them as
Caitlin, Harlow, and Brenna. I’m told they’re from accounting, but they look as
if they sashayed straight off a Parisian runway. I’m guessing smiling Brenna is
the halfway decent one of the bunch. The others keep their distance, not saying
much of anything as they grip their mugs and bide their time before I carry on
my merry way.

They’ve got to know.

I’m sure the second I leave,
they’re going to discuss the new company courtesan.

It’s okay, I’m not here to make
friends. I’m here to make money so I can move on with my life. This’ll all be a
distant memory someday, mean girls and all.

I amble down the hallway,
toward the mahogany double doors, which house my master’s office. I giggle at
the word
master
. It’s the silliest
thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t possibly take it seriously.

But for twenty thousand dollars
a month? I’ll at least pretend like I take it
extremely
seriously.

When I reach my office, I slip
inside expecting something more along the lines of a janitorial closet. The
buckling of my knees in response to the sweeping view of the city, the polished
mahogany desk, and the crystal sconces on dimmers was the last thing I
expected. Wallpaper covered walls in a shade of cream give off a luxurious
sheen fit for a palace-dwelling queen, and a brand new laptop and cell phone
rest in the center of it all.

My finger traces along the
dust-free ledge of my desk before trailing up to the silver laptop. I crack the
lid and take a seat at my desk. The screen prompts me to create a password, but
before I do, I pick up the shiny, white cell phone sitting to my right.

I’ve never owned a cell phone
in my life. They’re strictly prohibited in the Miller family.

Except, of course, for my
father. He gets one for emergency purposes, he says, since he works outside of
the home.

But no one else.

I’ll have to fight tooth and
nail and explain that this is a work phone, and even then I’m looking at slim
chances. But it’s worth a shot.

While I ransack my drawers in
search of a pen, a quick rap at my door ushers in Dane. I lose my breath for a
second until I force ice water through my veins and try to regroup.

“That was a quick conference
call,” I say as he takes the seat across from me. He pulls two pens from the
interior breast pocket of his suit and places one in front of me. It reminds me
of a polished silver bullet. Upon examination, I see his monogram along the
barrel.

His palm runs the length of his
slim, black tie. “My brother isn’t one to be long winded.”

“What’s his name?”

Dane’s head tilts as if he’s
bothered by this small talk. “Beckham. Beckham King. He runs the east coast
division.”

Different last names. I want to
ask why, but it’s none of my business.

“Have you had a chance to go
over the paperwork?”

“I’m just getting settled. Was
looking for a pen when you walked in.”

“Why don’t you start with the
consent form? My time is limited, and I’d like to get that out of the way.”

I lick the pad of my middle
finger and page through the stack of paperwork until I come across a consent
form. It’s on personal stationery with the logo of a legal firm at the bottom
along with an attorney’s signature.

“I have some questions first.”
I peer across the desk at him. “If that’s okay.”

“And what are your questions?”

“It’s just, I didn’t know this
type of job existed. I guess I’m more curious than anything else. Is this
legal?”

He smirks. “You’re not a
prostitute, Bellamy. If that’s your concern.”

“I guess I just don’t
understand why you need someone here all day, every day for this? Not that I’m
complaining. Like I said, I’m just curious. I’m not judging you.”

“I don’t expect you to
understand.” He holds still, his gaze steady and unwavering. He’s certainly not
apologizing for his preferences. “When the entire world is at your fingertips,
you can be more frivolous with your whims. Some people might like a fancy
coffee maker in their kitchen, knowing they can have their favorite coffee
drink whenever the mood strikes them. They’re addicted to coffee. They need it
every day. The machine is there for their convenience.”

“You’re comparing me to a
coffee maker?”

“I’m just saying, we all have
our vices. Mine just happens to be beautiful, submissive women. If I can afford
to have one exclusively on stand-by for me, then I certainly won’t deny myself
that luxury.”

“So I’m a luxury?”

“You are absolutely a luxury.”

“And what exactly will I be
consenting to?” I bring the paper closer, inspecting it and reading from the
top.

“Read, Bellamy.”

 

I,
_______________, declare under penalty of perjury that I am above the age of
eighteen.

I,
________________, declare that I am participating in this sexual relationship
of my own free will and that I have not been coerced, threatened, manipulated,
or harmed into doing so.

Both
parties agree that this agreement is to be private and not disclosed to third
parties for any reason. Doing so shall result in legal punishment including
sexual misconduct and invasion of privacy.

My
initials next to the listed items below indicate that I am consenting to those
acts:

___
Fondling and kissing intended to cause sexual arousal

___
Oral sex (giving and receiving)

___
Sexual intercourse with a condom

___
Spanking

___
Paddling

___
Sensory deprivation (blindfolds, etc)

___
Ball gags

___
Rope arrangements

___
Cuffs, ties, shackles, and other forms of bondage

___
Nipple clamps

___
Biting

___
Vibrators and forced masturbation

___
Orgasm denial

___
Public play

___
Sex club accompaniments

___
Dirty talk

___
Punishment in various forms (physical, verbal, sexual)

 

I,
_____________, declare that I am drug, alcohol, and infection free, and I am
consenting to have sexual intercourse and participate in a D/s relationship
with _____________. I also agree to have a complete medical examination done at
my earliest convenience and to release the records to _____________.

It
is understood that when I say the word STOP at any time, before or after, my
partner agrees to cease all activity immediately.

Party
1________________________ Date_________

Party
2 ________________________Date_________

 

“You’re blushing, Miss Miller.”
Of course he points out the obvious.

“Will we be doing all these
things?”

“Not necessarily. Some of them
I’ve grown quite bored of to be honest. We’ll do whatever strikes my fancy when
the mood hits.”

Our stares lock for a moment.

“Do these things scare you?” he
asks.

“No,” I half-fib.

“Good,” he says. “You shouldn’t
be scared. I would never hurt you, Bellamy. You should know that. This
relationship isn’t pleasurable for me if it’s not, at least in some way,
pleasurable to you.”

That’s a relief.

“That’s good to hear, because
looking at all of these things makes me think you just want to hurt me.” It’s
the most honest thing I’ve said in a while.

His hand shoots across the
table, falling on mine. His movements are brisk and stiff like he’s not one to
easily give comfort, but his gaze is reassuring in this moment.

“Don’t ever think that I want
to hurt you. I take care of what belongs to me. I’ll take my pleasure and give
some back in return. The power may seem to lie in my hands, Bellamy, but it’s
really all yours. If you allow me to touch you, to do these things with you,
the power is yours.”

Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like
it. If I’m tied up and he’s forcing a vibrator between my thighs, who holds the
power then?

“I’ll go slow with you,” he
says. “I’m not in the habit of baptizing by fire.”

“Appreciated. Thank you.”

Dane slinks back in the chair,
his brows coming together as his elbows rest symmetrically on the wooden arms.

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