Page 38 of Forbidden Mistress

Whatever the fuck that was, I sure as hell wasn’t ready for it.

His cock is straining, red and angry, pointing as if reaching for me. I still want it so bad, but I’m afraid he might take things to a level I can’t handle. I’m pretty much already there now.

For a few seconds, he stands stock still. Then, without a word, walks over to the wardrobe, pulls the doors open and returns to me with a bottle of lotion in his hand. His jaw is still clenched in anger. When he steps up to me, I flinch. That only seems to make him angrier. He curses, then curls his large hand around my upper arm and brusquely flips me back onto my stomach. Before I can even protest, he’s smoothing coconut-scented lotion all over my ass. It feels cool against my skin, and I sink into the mattress, thoroughly enjoying the firm pressure he uses to massage the lotion into my heated skin.

He does all of this in silence. All I can hear is his heavy breath and my own sniffles as silent tears continue to flow. Once he’s done, he sets the lotion aside and pulls on his pants, then tugs his shirt over his head. I’m half-turned on the bed, watching him thread his belt back through his pants with short, clipped movements, the veins on his forearms bulging.

“Have I done something wrong?” I ask, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I won’t cry in front of him. I refuse to do that, but that doesn’t stop the stab of pain in my chest.

“I need to speak with Willow,” he says flatly. There’s no emotion in his voice, nothing to give me an indication of how he’s feeling.

His mentioning Willow is like another stab to the heart. Has he realized she’s better suited to him sexually? She could take a whipping, and she’d eat it up. She’d never tell him to stop. During my observations, she’d never asked him to stop, and in fact, the more violent his behavior, the more pleasure she seemed to derive from it. She’d take everything he would give her in silence and the outright obedience he craves.

That’s obviously the kind of woman he needs. Not me, Ms. Plain Vanilla. I can tell he’s practically vibrating with unpent need, his huge erection easily visible even under his pants. Do I really want him going to Willow in that condition?

I swallow, and when I speak, my voice is small. “What will you tell her?”

His voice is stiff like he’s trying to keep a handle on his anger. “I need to set clear boundaries with her.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what those boundaries will be because I’m dying to know. He’s already said he won’t fuck her while he’s fucking me, but what does that mean, exactly? Is he just going to tell her to lay low until my three months with him are done, then they can resume their arrangement?

I hate not knowing. But asking him when he’s in this state doesn’t seem like a good idea. Maybe I can bring it up tomorrow, after he’s had a chance to cool down.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulls on his socks and shoes, then stands and stares down at me for a second. He takes a step forward and kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll text you,” he says quietly, then walks out.

I sit in the middle of the bed, naked, dumbfounded, and wondering what the fuck just happened. The sinking feeling in my gut tells me this might not just be until tomorrow. He could be dismissing me forever.

And as time stretches on after I pack up and leave Obscura, I think my gut feeling that night was right.

“He just left you sitting there?” Haley asks, horrified. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yup,” I say, still in a bit of a daze. It’s been two days, and just as I feared, he hasn’t texted me. But when I woke up this morning, I had an additional three thousand dollars in my account. Guilt money? Or maybe it’s his final send-off? There was no note attached, no email or text explaining the money.

Nothing.

Haley shakes her head. “Wow, fuck that guy.”

I lean back against my bed pillows. I’ve been trying to take an afternoon nap, and when Haley came in to grab something, she caught me staring up at the ceiling. Now we’re each lying in our beds, talking. I push out a breath. I have this sinking feeling in my chest, a dark knot of uncertainty, and I can’t fucking stand it.

“I think I’m just going to pop up at Obscura tonight. I mean, he owes me an explanation, at the very least, right?”

Haley fiddles with a loose string on her comforter. “Yeah. Totally. But…I don’t know, do you think it’s safe? Hart sounds like he might be a bit dangerous.”

He’s dangerous, all right. Just not in the way she thinks. I shake my head. “He stopped the second I told him to.”

It’s true that there’s an air of danger about him, but somehow, I know instinctively that he would never truly hurt me. Maybe that makes me naive, or idealistic, but I’ve learned in the past to trust my gut feelings.

Haley is now fiddling with her hair, making a little side braid of reddish-brown hair just above her ear. “You don’t think he dropped you in favor of Willow, do you?”

I shoot her a wry look. It’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about, pretty much non-stop, since he walked out of his suite at Obscura to go “establish boundaries” with her. The lack of reassuring text from him has only compounded that feeling.

“You should probably confront him, then. It might be good to get some closure.”

At that moment, my phone chimes, and I jump. Is it Hart? I turn the phone face up, but as soon as I see the notification, my mood drops. It’s from Liam.

Stop harassing my assistant.

With a sound of disgust, I throw my phone to the end of my bed.

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