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Chapter Twenty-One
RORY
The sound of my alarm ringing next to me has me groaning. Blindly, I reach out and smack the fucking phone to try and turn it off. My eyes are bleary, and they sting as I force one open, squinting to allow as little light in as possible.
The alarm continues to ring, mocking me as my stupid fucking fingers fumble with the touch screen. Finally, after a long hard battle, I manage to turn it off and flop back down on the bed.
Mischief glares at me, then groans before letting out one of his infamous dog farts.
“Eww, you stinky fuck!” I shout at him, nudging his little doggy butt with my foot, but the fucker doesn’t even budge.
Now wide awake and wanting to escape the fart mist, I stumble from the bed and glance at my phone, seeing it’s only five forty-five AM. I still have plenty of time to get ready and beat the guys into the office.
Last night’s events run through my mind as I wake up. Maddox acting strange, well, strange even for him. The walk with Alistair, where we strolled for at least an hour. We talked about everything and nothing, and at the end, he dropped Mischief and me at the door with a “Be good” and a wink before disappearing. The whole thing was so casual, as if we were dog walking buddies who met up once a week to walk our dogs together.
After peeing, taking my pill, and washing my face in my elaborate bathroom, I head into my closet, which seems too diminutive a term considering its size, and begin to get ready. Just like yesterday, my clothes are set out for me down to the jewelry, a matching set of bra and panties, and the exact complementary shade of lipstick. It doesn’t even make me pause that again during the night, one of them was in here while I was asleep.
As much as it bothers me that they seek to control so much of my life, I have to admit that part of me finds it comforting. For once, I don’t have to worry about what I’m going to wear, if it has holes in it, or doing a smell test to ensure it doesn’t stink too badly before throwing it on. Nope. I just waltz in here and find everything is already done for me.
Stripping off the silky green nightie with lace trimming, which I grudgingly admit was comfy to sleep in, I begin to get dressed. I can feel the scowl growing on my face when I pull on the black lacy panties, only to discover the fucker is a thong. Pulling them up over my hips, I settle it into place, the string embedded in my ass crack. I can’t help but wonder how the fuck women wear these things. This has to be a man’s creation, because no one in their right fucking minds would be like,Oh yeah, let me just walk around all day with a wedgie stuck far up my ass.
How does one resist the urge to pick it out of their crack all day long? Those women are stronger than I am, that’s for sure. This has got to be worse than the shoes I had yesterday, and those sucked a big bag of dicks.
Groaning, I snatch up the matching bra and my scowl deepens. This isn’t a bra, no, this is a fucking harness. Black straps wrap around my breasts like rope but don’t actually cover them. I mean…I’m all down for the free the nipple movement and all that, but the last thing I want is hard nips all day at work for several reasons. One being that I know the guys will be staring, which will only make them harden further. And two, I’ll be completely self-conscious, knowing they can see them…which is why they probably did it. Assholes.
But what fucking choice do I have?
Turning to face the full-length mirror, I stand and admire myself.
Shit.
I look fucking hot, like a kinky sexy kitten or something.
But then I remember that the guys, or at least one of them, will know I’m wearing this, and all that confidence melts to unease. Tearing my gaze away from my reflection, I seize the dress draped over the back of the chair and slip it over my head. After threading my arms through, I pull the short outfit down over my hips, feeling the warm material rubbing against my skin.
It’s a super cute, dark gray sweater dress, but it’s short, barely covering my ass. Literally barely covering it. I’ll have to be super fucking careful how I bend over today if I don’t want anyone in the office getting a full moon view of my ass cheeks. Are they just going to keep picking shorter and more revealing clothes every day? Something tells me yes.
Turning back to the mirror, I raise the zipper up and over my breasts, closing them in. The neckline is a modest scoop, covering almost all of my chest. Well…it will as long as no one named Alistair takes it upon himself to unzip it.
My bra is hidden beneath the fabric, but shit, the thick material of the sweater has my hard nipples looking even more obvious. With my cheeks heating, I move to sit at the vanity and finish getting ready.
Today they want my hair up it seems. Next to a black hair tie and silver barrette is a thick curling iron. I turn it on and open the makeup bag, quickly applying my concealer, smoky eyeshadow, and mascara. I save the lipstick for after I brush my teeth.
I curl my hair and pull it up into a loose ponytail, tugging out a few strands to frame my face before fluffing out the curls. I give my hair a few spritzes of hairspray, then swivel on my chair. Tall boots are waiting for me, and I pull them on one at a time. The low heel is a blessing after walking around in heels all day yesterday, but damn these fuckers just keep going. Leather encases my legs all the way up past my knees.
In reality, I look like a hooker with my nipples pressed against my dress as I wear a lacy thong and thigh-high boots… Yeah…
Opening the jewelry box, I secure the dangling emerald jewels to my ears and affix the matching necklace at the nape of my neck. Then I stuff the same purse as yesterday with my lipstick before forgetting one crucial part of my outfit—the fucking wire.
Damn this wire. It’s seriously going to burn a hole through my skin. And how the fuck can I even hide it today? There’s no bra to sneak it inside of.
Cursing Bronson, I make a mental note to stop by and see him before next week, then pull the wire off its charger. Luckily, it’s small, and I’m able to hide it under the wire below my right breast. But it’s uncomfortable, like the kind of discomfort you get when your wire bra breaks and just pokes you like an annoying little kid.
Gonna be another long fucking day.
Great.
The second alarm sounds, and I rush from my closet to my nightstand, turning it off successfully on the first try. I pull it off the charger and shove it in my purse, then head into the bathroom. After flossing and brushing my teeth, I pat my leg and call Mischief to follow me, needing to walk him before I head into work.
