Because He Plays Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Seven) (3 page)

As we walked down the hall, a few people glanced at me curiously, and I felt myself averting my eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Ray said, smiling. “They’re just curious.”

“About me?”

He nodded. “Callum has never had a woman to the office before.”

I felt myself blush.

When we got to Callum’s office door, Ray knocked twice. “Mr. Wilder,” he said. “Adriana O’Connor.”

“Let her in.”

Ray opened the door for me and shooed me inside the office, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Callum’s office took my breath away.

Everything was bright and open, all black leather and chrome and glass, shiny and new and immaculate.

Callum was sitting at his desk. His dark hair was mussed just a little and there was stubble darkening his cheeks. His suit jacket was off, and his crisp white dress shirt had been unbuttoned at the top, his tie loosened.

“Hey,” I said softly.

“Lock the door, Adriana.”

I turned around and locked it, the room so silent that the click echoed through the air.

I took a moment to catch my breath, and then I turned back around.

And that’s when I saw it. The bottle of whiskey sitting on his desk.

I took a step into the room.

“Callum?” I tried. Was he drunk? He didn’t seem drunk. He raised his eyes and met mine, and I searched his face for any sign of him having consumed alcohol, but his eyes were bright and clear, his features just as crisp and chiseled as ever. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been staring at it for five hours.”

I swallowed. “I’m not…” I wiped my palms on my dress. I was in over my head, had no idea what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to handle this. What did you say to an addict who was thinking about drinking? I licked my bottom lip. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“I don’t want to do it, either.” He raised his eyes to mine, and there was such a vulnerability there, such a resignation to what he was about to do that I felt my eyes fill with tears. For the first time, I felt like I was seeing him,
really
seeing him and the torture and pain that lived inside of him.

“Oh, Callum,” I breathed, walking across the room to him. “Then don’t.”

“She died because of me.”

“Callum!” I took his hand in mine. “No. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have tried harder.”

“No, you tried the best you could.”

“I didn’t.”

I groped around in my head for the right thing to say, but I felt helpless, powerless against the demons he was railing against.

“I could have done more.” He took his hand from mine, and his voice sounded far away, his blue eyes listless, and I could feel him slipping away, could tell that I was failing as I tried to bring him back from whatever spiral he was about to go down.

I reached for the bottle of whiskey – at least I could take that. But he grabbed my wrist, then took the bottle from me with his other hand and set it back down on the desk.

“You should go,” he said.

“What?”

“You should leave, Adriana.”

“Why would I leave?”

“Because I’m…” He shook his head. “I’m fucked up. I don’t want you going down this road with me.”

“Callum.” I closed my eyes and balled my hands together in fists at my sides. Part of me
did
consider just leaving, walking out the door and never coming back. My life had been nothing but complicated ever since I’d met him. But I couldn’t just leave him like this. I didn’t want to.

I cared about him too much.

I believed in him, believed he was a good person who was capable of loving me the way I wanted to be loved, and accepting that love in return.

Maybe it made me naïve, but I’d seen glimpses of it inside of him, and I didn’t want to be the one to turn my back on him.

“Callum,” I pleaded.

“Adriana,” he said. “Go.”

I searched desperately for the right words, feeling a crushing need to stop him. I imagined him tipping that bottle back, obliterating years of sobriety, getting drunk at work, risking his professional reputation.

Do something, Adriana. You need to make him stop, you need to do something to get through to him.

I fell to my knees and averted my eyes to the ground.

“Sir,” I said softly.

“Adriana…” Callum said, but his voice was less harsh, with just the tiniest bit of falter in it.

“Please, sir.”

“Please, sir, what?” he demanded, and the wheels on the bottom of his heavy leather chair were pivoting in the carpet as he turned toward me.

“Take it out on me, sir.”

“Take what out on you, Adriana?”

“Instead of drinking,” I whispered. “Whatever it is you’re trying to forget about, to run from. Take it out on my body instead.” My skin was already flushing warm with the anticipation of what that would mean.

“Adriana,” he said, and I could hear the tension in his voice, the break at the end.

“Sir,” I said, and I kept my eyes to the ground. I waited a moment, time suspended, my heart beating so fast in my chest it felt like it was going to come bursting out, like a flock of birds beating their wings and struggling to break free. I wanted him to punish me. He’d primed my body to be ready for him, to want to be used for his pleasure.

I wanted to submit.

He reached down and cupped my chin in his hand, tilted it up so that I was forced to look at him. “Are you sure, baby?” he whispered. His thumb brushed my bottom lip.

“I’m sure,” I whispered.

His eyes were burning bright as his gaze slid up my body, taking me in, down on the ground, on my knees, ready to take direction, to act out his every desire. I could almost see his mind working, his eyes blazing with hunger and need as he worked over what he would do to me.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue tangling with mine, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip as he released the kiss.

“You know your safe word, Lemon?” he whispered.

I nodded.

“Do you trust me?”

I nodded again. “I trust you, Callum.”

“Eyes on the ground, baby.”

I put my eyes back to the ground, and he turned his chair away from me.

“Stand up and walk to the couch, Adriana.”

I stood up and walked to the leather couch that was pushed up against the far wall of his office.

“Face the wall.”

I turned around and faced the wall, my heart still beating rapidly in my chest. A second later, I sensed him behind me. I could smell his cologne, woodsy and fresh, felt his chest push against my back as he brushed my hair back from my neck and kissed the sensitive spot there.

His hands reached for the zipper of my dress and he pulled it down softly, slowly, the sound echoing through the empty room. If I listened closely, I could hear the muted sound of Callum’s employees through the door, all of them working, not knowing that I was in here about to get whatever it was done to me that was about to be done.

My body ached for him, an ache that settled between my legs.

“Why didn’t you answer my text messages, Adriana?” Callum’s breath tickled my neck as his hands found my shoulders and began to massage them gently. I loved the way he said my name, and I felt my panties starting to get wet.

“I was in a meeting, sir.”

“Do you remember what the contract you signed said, Adriana?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did it say?”

“It said that I was to be available to you at all times, that I was to answer any text messages immediately.”

His began to slide my dress down over my shoulders, the silky material brushing against my skin as his lips returned to the back of my neck and kissed me softly.

It was a tease, a horrible tease. He was being soft with me, but I knew my punishment was going to come soon, that it was going to be extreme and hard and rough.

He tugged my dress down over my hips and it pooled onto the floor. “Step out of your dress.”

I stepped out of it.

I was left standing there in the lingerie he’d left for me this morning, a tiny g-string that barely covered my pussy, a garter belt and set of stockings, a black lace see through push-up bra.

Callum’s hands twisted my hair into a ponytail and yanked on it gently. “How do you think it made me feel when you didn’t respond to me?”

“You didn’t like it.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, and he sounded amused. “Turn around, Adriana.”

I turned around and his eyes drunk me in, the sight of my body on display for him.

“Take off your bra.”

I reached behind me and unhooked it, letting my breasts fall out. My nipples were rock hard, like two pebbles, and I was embarrassed that just standing here with my breasts out was enough to turn me on so much.

Callum smiled devilishly then grabbed the back of my head and kissed me, his tongue pushing into my mouth, dancing with mine, his stubble rubbing against my cheeks roughly, a contrast to the warm wetness of his mouth.

I was breathless when he finally released me, and then he was taking off his belt, and I knew he was going to make it hurt.

“On your knees, Adriana,” he growled.

I fell to my knees.

“Good girl. Now reach back and grab your ankles.”

I did as I was told, arching my back so that I was holding my ankles, which thrust my tits up at him, and pulled my shoulders back.

He ran his belt over my breasts, the scent of leather hitting my nose as the soft, supple material ran over my nipples.

I moaned in anticipation and ecstasy. The tiny g-string I was wearing was completely soaked now, the material sticking to my pussy.

Callum pulled back and struck me, the belt lashing against my breasts, harder than he’d ever hit me, harder than I’d been expecting.

I strangled cry escaped my lips.

“If you make another sound,” he growled. “I’ll make it worse.”

“Yes, sir.”

The belt bit me again, slashing against my skin, one, two, three, four times. He varied the pressure, the placement as he stood over me, tall and commanding, his blue eyes filled with need. The blows that whipped against my nipples were the worst, the skin there more sensitive.

Red marks bloomed on my skin as he branded me and made me his.

“Good girl,” he said from above me, his chest heaving. “Now stand up.”

I stood up and he made me walk over to his desk, laid me down on my stomach so that my breasts were pushed against the glass.

“Hands behind your back.”
I put my hands behind my back, and a second later I heard the swoosh of him pulling his tie off, felt the material against my wrists as he tied them together. He tightened the knot then pulled on the tie, forcing my arms back.

“Fuck, you look sexy like that.” His nails slid down my back. “Your body was made for this, baby.”

“Callum,” I moaned.

“Say it.”

“My body was made for this.”

“Your body is mine.”

“My body is yours.”

His belt was sliding over my ass now, right against my skin, the tiny g-string providing no protection.

He whipped me with the belt.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

This time, he didn’t bother to vary the intensity, instead building up, harder and harder, until my body was jolting with every blow, and the stinging pain began to give way to something else, a deep and pleasurable ache that settled in my pussy as he punished me, as he took his frustration out on my body, as he used me for his release.

Finally, when my ass was sore and raw, he tossed the belt to the floor, where he landed with a clang.

My breath was coming in short gasps. He let my wrists go but held me down against the glass of the desk, the smooth surface cool against my cheek as his hand moved down over my panties and pushed them to the side.

He slipped a finger inside my pussy and I groaned.

“You’re so wet, Lemon,” he said, teasing. “You like being bad like that, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted.

“Yes, I like being a bad girl.”

I heard his pants unzipping, and then his cock was pushing against me and I gasped as he slid into me in one long stroke.

He grabbed the tie around my wrists and pulled it hard, using it for leverage so he could fuck me harder.

“Oohh,” I groaned as he pumped into me. “Ohh, Callum.”

He fucked me until my clit was throbbing, until my body was wound tight and begging for release. I could feel my orgasm building inside of me, could feel myself on the edge of that cliff, just seconds away from the blissful sensation that would tear through my body and leave me shattered.

And then Callum pulled out of me.

I whimpered. “Callum,” I begged. “Please.”

“Don’t move,” he commanded. I could hear him behind me, removing the rest of his clothes, and then he was turning me over onto my back and pushing my hands up over my head and laying his body down on top of mine and kissing me, hard and deep, hit tongue pillaging my mouth.

“Please,” I begged. “Please, Callum, I need to come.”

“Oh, yeah?” he teased, and his hand slid across my stomach and over my clit, and I whimpered again. My entire body was on fire, red hot lava flowing through my veins. His lips found neck and then moved to my earlobe, and then he was standing up and he pushing my legs all the way back so that they were spread wide open for him.

I shivered at the sight of him standing there, his exquisite body on display, his chest and shoulders and arms ripped and chiseled, his cock rock hard as he slid it over my opening.

“Look at how wet you are, baby.”

I groaned, watching as the hard, engorged head of his dick slid over my pussy.

“Your body was made to get me off. Your pussy was made to be used by my dick.”

“I was made for this,” I repeated.

“That’s right, baby,” he said in satisfaction, and then he took my hands and guided them down between my legs, placed them on his cock, letting me feel it as he pushed through my tied hands and into my pussy, letting me feel him as he fucked me.

He grinned at me wickedly. “You like that, baby?”