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I open my mouth to speak, but his eyes narrow slightly.
“You’ll be living here soon enough, Pollyanna. As my toy. If asked, that’s what you are. A toy, a sub, and all mine. Understood?”
“Yes.” I lift my gaze to him. “Sir.”
“Attitudes like that will be beaten out of you. You will be disciplined. I can be very creative, Pollyanna. So unless you’re looking to meet the palm of my hand or the leather of my belt, then you’d damn well better watch your tone.”
This time I don’t say a word.
“You’ll wear what I tell you. Do what I tell you.”
“You really want me to move in?”
He shrugs, sits forward, and pulls out his phone. Mine vibrates in my pocket. “Not yet. But you have my number now.”
I don’t ask how he got mine. If this is his place, Mercer Vale is rich enough to get his hands on anything he wants. Well, almost anything except for the thing he needs me for.
“This is very important. I need to make sure you understand you meet my exacting standards, or this will fail.”
“And to do that I have to move in?”
He puts his phone down, raking his eyes over me, capturing mine with the heat of his own. I don’t think I could look away if I tried. “Eventually, but before then you, to the world, are my glorified whore.”
I swallow—disgusted, turned on, and humiliated at the same time. “And to you?” Now I squeeze my hands together. “What am I to you?”
“A means to an end.”
Mercer stands and picks up his phone, stares at the screen, then shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans.
Right now, he looks rougher, darker, deadlier. And…younger. The savage edge gives him that younger look, like he’s somehow closer to the young man I’d had a crush on than the debonair Devil in a suit.
“What about the other rules?”
“As we go. I just needed you here for a while tonight. Long enough for a good blowjob.”
I frown. “But?—”
“That pretty mouth will be wrapped around my cock sooner than later. And just to make sure you were listening, the rules I needed you to understand are what?”
I take a shuddering breath. “To the world, this is real and I’m your…pet?”
“You’re a fucking natural, Pollyanna.” He motions to the great room. “I have things to do. My car is waiting for you downstairs. Go.”
My legs wobble as I stand. I feel completely off-kilter, but I guess that’s what he wants.
Sadistic asshole.
I walk toward the door of the small sitting room.
“Wait.”
The slide of that smooth velvety voice stops me in my tracks.
When I turn, he’s there, staring at me with a hot, carnal hunger in his gaze. He grabs me and pushes me up against the wall so fast I can’t think. A rush of air explodes from my lungs. His hungry mouth is on mine and it’s a full-on assault as he kisses me, deep and dirty. Brutal.
I’m overwhelmed, consumed by all that is him. He has me drowning, caught in the pound of the pulsating beat of the music he’s created with his body and mouth. I freefall through the wild dips and highs of the changing rhythm. He plays me like a bass, like sweet, slow Miles Davis-type jazz. And then suddenly, the tempo changes and he’s raw in-your-face gothic punk.
Mercer bites and kisses and licks a path down my throat, then he rips up my T-shirt and bra. My bare skin burns and his mouth is hotter still as it closes over one nipple to suck andpull and bite. He shifts to the other one, repeating the delicious violations that I welcome with open arms.
