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I rub my temples, but the pressure only gets worse. The deep green canopy I’m staring at seems to sag a little lower over me.
Lie three: Leading her to believe, even for a moment, that any dealer has ever lived with me to be ‘trained’. There was Nessa, for that one night—but I let her go. I didn’t even fuck her. At times, I’ve almost wished I had. But it wasn’t like that with us. It’s still not. Oh, I wish it was. I wish it could be. Not because I would want to ruin our friendship that way, but because it would mean...
I close my eyes, and I remember the cool glass wall against my forearm. I remember how hot the cell phone was, pressed against my ear. I can hear the awful sound that came out of my throat April 29 when they called to tell me: the first domino that fell in this last chain of events.
I moved out of this bedroom because I couldn’t stand to see the window anymore. Because, after that moment four months ago, I dismissed my then-sub, Gina, without a single word, and told myself she’d be the last.
There were other lies today as well. The way I set Cleo up to come to my place. Having Matt tell Lora, Cleo’s friend, that he deals to other dealers sometimes. Intentionally omitting that if Cleo moves in with me, she’ll spend most of her time cuffed, suspended, or spread-eagle on the middle of this bed. On weekends, she’ll watch the sun rise and go down as she hangs here, getting fucked as often as I want to fuck her.
I’m not finished with this. I just... can’t be.
I swing my legs off the side of the bed and allow my toes to luxuriate in the thick rug before I grab my black silk robe from a hook on the door. I try the balcony, but despite its generous size, there’s not enough space. I feel pinned in. Edgy. It’s a problem I have often.
I go downs
tairs and grab a shake out of the refrigerator. Drink it down and fuck with my phone.
I’m still wired, so it’s the workout room, down in the basement. I run for twenty-seven minutes before my heart starts beating too hard, then hop off, pace around, lift some weights, and hit the elliptical for another numbing forty minutes.
I’m climbing up the stairs when I give in.
I read once that everyone has a finite supply of willpower, and tonight I’ve used up all of mine. Not going after Cleo and giving her the whipping she earned. Not calling one of the girls on my list of dirty fucks.
I pull up the text feature first, but I know as soon as I see it that I’m not going to text Cleo.
I need to hear her voice.
I punch her number in and sit at the top of the front staircase, looking down on the foyer: a dark cavern, sparkled and polished—all for naught. No one who comes here cares about those sorts of things.
No one but me.
I like order.
Cleo lets it ring so many times, I’m surprised when the ringing gives way to silence. A little rush jolts through my body when I realize she’s breathing into the phone.
“Cleo.”
It takes her a moment to answer, and when she does, she sounds... young. “It’s me.”
I curl my fingers around the phone, remembering how good she tasted on my fingers. My dick hardens, and as it does, my balls draw up and ache. I ignore the pain and focus on the pleasure. My hand drifts down and wraps around the thick head of my dick. I tug and grin, imagining how I’m going to discipline Miss Whatley as soon as I get the chance.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” I ask.
I know she’s got something to say to me. Otherwise she wouldn’t have answered my call. I wait a minute, stroking myself through the opening of my robe.
Finally she says, “What do you have to say for yourself? You made me feel cornered and set up. I don’t trust you. If you try to rat me out, I’ll say you lured me to your house and tried to force me. The bruise between your legs can back me up.”
I laugh—a low hoot, surprising myself. “Can it?”
“Yeah, it can. I don’t like you, Kellan. I don’t want to talk to you again.”
“Tell me—how does your pussy feel? My cock is wounded. Even now, as it salutes you, it feels... misunderstood. Discarded.”
“Are you really trying to sexy talk me after what happened today?”
“No trying to. I am. Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
“Is that a threat?” Her voice is high, like she really thinks it might be.
