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NINE
Jarradek
I force the corners of my mouth to stay in their position—curved into a smile I don’t feel. My cheeks ache and my neck is tense, and between my horns a headache is budding.
Tonight.
I only have to make it through another few hours and then she’ll let me come.
It’s not fucking natural. I’m a twice a day kind of bull.
This last week has been a special kind of hell. And I’ve had to do it all while on the campaign trail. After each long, long day was done, I didn’t even feel like I could go for a drink or out for a nice dinner. Scared of what I might do when presented with temptation, I hid away at my penthouse, ordering in, and basically living like a recluse.
All so I can please her.
My god, I hope she’s pleased with me when I see her. Even if she only tortures me the way she did last week. Even that would be bliss compared to what I’m suffering.
When I finally make it to the executive suite of the West Boulevard, the steaming shower I take does nothing to loosen my muscles or wash off the stink of raw need I know must be emanating from every pore.
Leaving the door unlocked, I ensure the writing on my belly is in place, then kneel and wait.
A soft tap at the door minutes later makes my heart thump and swells my cock to semi-hard instantly.
“It’s open.”
Lady Mel pushes open the door. At least, I assume it’s her. She doesn’t speak. From my position with my head lowered, I can only make out her legs and feet as she strides into the room. She is wearing the same heeled black boots from the first night we met. When she stops in front of me, I force myself to remain still, head bowed.
“Who told you to kneel?”
“No one, My Lady. It seemed right. Does it please you?”
There’s a long pause.
A troubling pause.
Her voice is soft when she answers. “I like the sentiment. But I think I like it better when I can see exactly how big and strong you are.”
