Arianna’s head falls into a bow and she stays eerily still in her chair. Her eyes are focused on the floor. A darkness in me stirs with delight at her immediate submission to me. It’s wrong to think that way and I ignore it, shoving it down and pretending it doesn’t exist.
“Arianna,” I say her name for the first time. It feels forbidden, too sweet to taste. The syllables linger in the air as she slowly raises her chin, her head still bowed slightly and her gorgeous eyes stare into mine. Deep into me, as if she can see through me.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, taking the attention off of me and back onto her lush lips. They’re on the pale side, but a soft pink. Her makeup is soft and only there to emphasize her natural beauty.
“Whatever you wish, Sir.” I nearly groan at her response. I’m not into power play in the bedroom. I have enough of it throughout the day to fulfill those needs. But she tempts me. It’s the look in her eyes that tells me she needs what I can give her. She needs to be dominated, but not like this.
“May I call you Sir?” she asks me in a delicate voice that begs me to take her.
Her soft voice and perfect submission call to me. But I’m not interested in rules and games. The stakes in this game are much too high to play.
It hits me then, with her question, that she’s mine. That I can do with her as I please. My dick hardens in my pants just thinking about the sweet sounds that would pour from her lips. I keep my back straight as I adjust my cock to keep it from pressing against the zipper.
I’d love to get lost in her lush curves and bury myself deep inside her. But this is business. And the desires I have aren’t right. I tear my eyes away from her and look at the clock on the far wall. The second hand moves slowly, not a single tick audible as it moves seamlessly across the face. Counting time. That’s what I’ll be doing over the next month. That’s all this is.
She’s just another woman. My right hand sitting on the table balls into a fist at the thought, knowing it’s not true. I rap my knuckles against the table. The steady tapping fills the room as I realize how fucked this situation is.
She’s not just another woman. This would be too easy if she were. I wouldn’t have come here if it were true.
“Do you know why I bid on you?” I ask her as my eyes lift to her heart-shaped face.
“Because you wanted me to obey your every wish,” she answers in a gentle voice, the last word hanging in the air as I stare at her. Yes, a voice in the depths of my depravity calls out, begging me to take her as she offered. To give in and simply enjoy her.
“Do you know your Master offered you to me?” I ask her, although it’s not really a question. I shouldn’t have told her, but I want her to know, I want to see her reaction even more.
“Because my Master owes you?” she asks in a voice that doesn’t show what she’s feeling. It’s all a cognitive process, with no emotion involved. She’s hiding it from me.
“Yes, because your prick of a boyfriend owes me.” I’m intentionally cold, wanting a response, and she gives it to me.
Her eyes whip to mine and her lips press into a hard line. For a moment anger rises inside of me at the thought of her defending him, but her words cut through it, silencing it.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” As soon as the words are spoken, her posture returns to what it was.
More than her submission, her anger and her determination that she doesn’t belong to him make me want her that much more. Because she doesn’t have any claim to him anymore. Now she’s mine.
I haven’t wanted anyone like this in a long damn time. Maybe not ever. It must be the forbidden aspect of it, the dark desires I’ve only ever observed from a distance. My eyes glance over her face, waiting for more from her, trying to determine what it is about her that’s forcing my hand and only making me want her with more desperation as every minute passes.
She’s a siren. Luring me to a depth that already has me making mistakes.
She’s the reason I’m in this mess. I felt for her. This business isn’t about emotions.
I rest my elbow on the table and lean forward, the legs of my chair scooting across the floor and making a screeching noise.
“Can I trust you?” I ask her, finally feeling a hint of a smile reaching my lips.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Don’t call me Sir,” I immediately say and my command comes out sharp, but she doesn’t flinch. My harsh manner doesn't affect her in the least.
“What would you like me to call you?” she asks in an even voice, perfectly still.
I let out a heavy sigh and sit back in my chair. My ankles cross as I look back at her.
“My name is Zander, and you can call me that.”
Her lashes flutter as she nods her head and answers obediently, “Yes, Zander.”
“I don’t really like… the lifestyle,” I tell her, that smile apparent as I start to spin a beautiful web, something to distract her maybe, something to hide behind. “As a kink, I understand it. But I’m not interested in having a Slave or a twenty-four seven power exchange.”
Her posture relaxes slightly. “What do you like?” she says, and as she asks me the question, she licks her lips in a nervous manner and clears her throat, setting her clasped hands on the table. Her own mask is crumbling into pieces, and her true emotions are showing. Her voice is lowered and flat.
She’s nervous, unhappy even. I’m taken aback for a moment. I hadn’t expected this reaction.
“What do you think I like?” I ask her in return. My eyes travel over every one of her features, waiting for more information on her. Everyone has a tell, and I can spot a lie from even the most deceitful men.
“I’m not sure, to be honest.” She swallows again and stares at her hands as she fidgets and pinches her fingertips. “I know I’m here to pay a debt. And that you’ll use me,” she adds and closes her eyes and takes in an uneven breath to steady herself. The smile falls from my face completely.
“I won’t do a damn thing to you that you don’t want. Let’s make that clear right now.” My firm voice makes her open her eyes. They’re glassy with tears and something else, distrust.
“I promise you. If you don’t want me in the least, you can walk through that door and this all ends.”
“He’ll-”
“He won’t do a damn thing to you. Daniel Brooks owes me money; you don’t owe anyone.”
“I owe him,” she breathes the words her face a reflection of nothing but pain. “I do,” Arianna starts to say something, but she doesn’t finish. I feel my forehead scrunch as I try to figure out what the hell she’s getting at. And then it hits me.
“If you don’t want me, you can simply leave.” The words, I’ll forgive the debt and you’ll be free are on my lips, but a hiss of a whisper in the darkest part of my mind pleads with me to wait for her reply.
“I do want you,” she says and her gorgeous eyes stare into mine again, piercing through me and threatening to learn every secret I hold.
I want to tell her to leave, to get rid of her. She already has too much power over me; she makes me weak. She makes me foolish. But she wants me. And I can’t deny I crave the idea of her submitting to me.