Page 7

7

NATHANIEL

H er nipples are perk, as the latex glistens beneath the dim lights of my office. Wrapping my fingers around the thin wire of my glasses, I slowly remove them from my face while keeping eye contact with the devil before me.

Fiddling with the cool metal between my thumb and forefinger, I take two calculated steps toward her. She remains the same, pouty lips with red lipstick once again. Dark eye makeup with her signature slicked-back pony.

Rylee watches me with curiosity. What will I do next?

Without moving my gaze, I toss my glasses onto the brown leather couch to the side of me and take one last slow step. I can feel her warm, even breath on my skin. If I were to tilt my head farther down, our noses would touch and our lips would brush.

I resist.

My hands adjust my trousers, my cock hard and pushing against the zipper, and my lips meet her ear. Before speaking, my nose takes in her sweet scent. Intoxicating.

“As you wish, Ms. Vandenberg,” I whisper.

Rylee's body jolts ever so slightly. She’s betting I didn’t notice. But it’s my job to notice everything.

Bending my knees and slowly making my way to the hard floor, I can feel her eyes on me the entire time.

I focus on her.

Bare pale legs crossed at the knee. Black pointed shoes with the red soles remain still. My eyes pass them, and I know, at any point, she could take my vulnerability and use it against me. One swift movement and she could take out my sight.

But she doesn’t.

Fuck, the things I would do to run my fingers up her soft thighs. But I resist, allowing her to take the lead. My knees hit the floor, and my body gently folds, my backside resting on my legs while I wait for her next instruction.

“I know this is not something you are familiar with, Duke.” Her voice is calm yet authoritative. And her statement is absolutely correct. I submit to no one; they submit to me. But not for even a second did I question obeying her every demand.

“This may not be my dungeon, but we are still going to play by my rules.” Her face is hard, and her eyes look into mine, trying to penetrate through the thick walls I’ve built around myself. She leans forward slightly as she speaks, each word carefully curated. “Mistress is what I demand. Ms. Vandenberg is what I’ll accept only from you. Only during our sessions. Rylee is what you’ll call me otherwise. Understood?”

I give a curt nod in understanding, but it’s not good enough.

“I can’t hear you.”

Clearing my throat, my heart is racing, and I feel like a nervous schoolboy in the principal's office. “Yes, Ms. Vandenberg.”

She smirks, satisfied by my response.

Uncrossing her long, delicious legs, the sole of her shoe placed on my forehead, she applies pressure, almost enough to push me back, but I resist, staying still.

“And you are not Duke in here, Mr. Sinclair.”

Again, I accept these terms. She could tell me to put on a cloth diaper and cry like a baby, and I fear I would. She has me absolutely captivated; no fear or hesitation is sensed. She’s strong, confident, and sees no limitations before her.

My heart continues to race; her head tilts. “Safe word, choose one.”

“Greta,” I say, chuckling to myself, but it does not impress her. The force of her foot gets stronger.

“Try again,” she demands.

Apologizing, I pick a new one. “Right, sorry.” Feeling the pressure, my mind races when the perfect word comes to me, one I know I’ll never forget. “Devil.”

Ms. Vandenberg rolls her eyes at me but releases some of the pressure of her shoe against my forehead, a sign she must be satisfied with my response. No praise leaves her lips.

It leaves me needy.

A million and one thoughts are circulating throughout my brain. I don’t feel pressure, I don’t panic, and I never show my hand.

And tonight, I broke every single fucking rule I have. Why? Because of the feeling I get when I’m around her. A feeling I never allow to enter my inner core with anyone else, not even my late ex-wife.

“It was you at Hell Fire Night, in the latex mask, wasn’t it?” I suspect I already know the answer, but I need her verbal confirmation.

Her brows rise. Acknowledging me, a soft whisper follows, “Yes.”

Our eyes locked at the cabin. I couldn’t understand why, but I knew I needed to know more.

She isn’t one to partake in Exiled traditions; I would have recognized her if she had.

It finally clicked when her dark eyes were looking up at me through her full lashes and my cock in her mouth; it was her. And now it’s confirmed.

“If I may interject..." Before I am able to finish, I’m cut off.

“You may not.”

I’m taken aback; my nostrils flare ever so slightly, and through gritted teeth I acknowledge her. “As you wish, Ms. Vandenberg.”

Her foot leaves my skin, then both are placed on the ground before me, where I am still kneeled, at her mercy. Her bottom slides off the desk ever so slowly, and my mouth is watering with my cock still firmly pressing against my trousers.

With both hands on her hips, she says, “Playtime is over.”

My heart drops. “The fuck it is. I paid…” Again, she cuts me off.

“Did you not understand the words that came out of my mouth, Mr. Sinclair? Or shall I repeat them for you?”

Swallowing my pride, for reasons of curiosity and the need to please her, I reply, “I understand, Ms. Vandenberg.”

She walks past me, but I can feel her presence behind me. “I could kill you right here, right now, if I wanted to.” The venomous threat echoes in my ear.

“But you won’t, or you already would have.”

Rylee is quick to respond. “Perhaps I’m playing the long game, Duke.”

Smirking, I say, “Good, that’s exactly how I would do it too, Ms. Vandenberg.”

She doesn’t move from behind me, pondering my final words to her empty threat. Rylee already has me on my knees, at her mercy, while she has complete control. This is a reaction to something. But what?

I’ll need to follow up with Rogers on her background check. I need to know everything.

My cell phone rings in my pocket, breaking the tension. Immediately, I am on my feet, reaching for it. The caller ID says things are not fucking good. “What?” I shout as I answer.

“He took her. She’s gone!” is screamed at me, and my hard-on and desire to tongue fuck Rylee has evaporated for now.

“Send me the pin. I’m on my way.”

Spinning around, I find Rylee is standing before me as Rogers comes running in.

Looking at him, I say, “I know. Rylee, do not fucking leave here. Do you understand?” My voice is stern.

She laughs. “The fuck I’m not.”

I don’t have time for this shit.

“Rylee. Greta said it herself. You’re not to leave here. It’s not fucking safe. Rogers, take her to one of the guest suites. No one in or out unless it’s Elijah or me. Rain will be okay; he will have her in their panic room. I’m the fucking boss now. Do as you're told.”

The laughter has stopped, confusion and concern has replaced it, and I don’t have time to address either. Grabbing my glasses off the couch, I dial Elijah next. “Two minutes, be ready.” As I hang up, I’m already down the hall with the front door in sight.

My fingers comb through my hair.

Here we fucking go.