Page 9 of The Contract

Rafael leaves the piano, turning on some recorded music. He joins Dante in the banquette, but they don’t speak. Weird.

When there’s a lull, I take my break. I need it. I’m so wired, and I have to calm down so I don’t draw attention to myself.

The breakroom is an actual freaking lounge, complete with a leather couch and coffee table. The walls are painted a deep red, making a perfect backdrop for the sexy black-and-whitephotographs hanging against them. They’re mostly of men. Hands. Throats. A turned head. Everything is half glimpsed. Saylor told me that Rafael took them. She says there are more erotic ones downstairs.

I shut myself in the bathroom, which is complete with a shower and a rack of nice towels. No expense spared even here.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Dante is right fucking there. Actually, he’s by the couch, but with his dark eyes burning on me like that, it feels like he’s a lot closer. The tumbler of bourbon is in his hand. He lifts it as though in salute, sets it to his lips, and downs it. I watch his throat as he swallows. How have I never noticed how incredibly sexy a man’s throat can look when he swallows?

My heart skips when Dante sets the glass on the table by the leather couch. I eye the door, which he’s closed. He shakes his head.

When he steps toward me, I take an instinctive step back into the bathroom. He grabs my wrist and yanks me toward him. I don’t know exactly how it happens, but somehow, he gets me bent over the back of the couch. He smacks my ass.

“Hey!” I shout, instantly furious. “What the fuck!”

I try to yank up from the couch, but he has me in some kind of weird wrestler’s hold or something. Where my ass cheek stings, a large, firm hand settles, massaging.

“That was very naughty,” he rumbles at the shell of my ear. I shudder. For some reason, my cock is hard.

“I don’t know what you’re—ow!” I yelp at the second, harder slap. “Let me go, you fucking psycho!”

He slaps me again then soothes the spot. Tears spring to my eyes. I’m panting. I’m scared. And I’m so fucking turned on I don’t recognize myself. What the hell is happening?

“Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

“Forwhat?” I gasp.

“Was it worth it, buying me a four hundred dollar drink just so you could refuse my command?”

“I didn’t …” I trail off. Shit. I did buy him a four hundred dollar drink. That’s coming out of my pay. Shit, shit, shit.

“Lesson one: don’t buy drinks for men. Not for me, and sure as hell not for anyone else.” His hand grips the back of my leg just below my ass. Electricity zips through my blood straight into my cock as his thumb presses in close to my taint. “Do you understand?”

I’m panting so hard that I’m dizzy. I can’t answer him because I’m trying too hard not to moan.

“We’ll come back to that,” he says. “Lesson two is more important. When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

He releases his grip on my thigh to slap me again. I cry out. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

He soothes the sting. Then his hand glides along the crack of my ass. I gasp at the unfamiliar touch. Even through my pants and briefs, I feel his fingers slide over my hole. He presses along my taint then brushes my swollen balls through my pants.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “Shit.”

“Mmm,” he hums in a soft, deep voice as he massages my balls. I squeeze my eyes shut, shocked by the sensation, unsure whether I want him to stop or continue.

He takes a deep breath and draws back, releasing me. I sag against the couch.

“I can’t go any further without a contract.” His voice is raspy but tight. “Tomorrow,” he says shortly, but I’m too overwhelmed to process any of that.

I don’t look up as he leaves. Even when I hear the door open and close, I keep my face pressed against the leather. I just breathe. Then I stand up and return to the bathroom.

FOUR

Tristan

He said tomorrow, but I haven’t seen him all night and it’s almost closing time. And what did he mean about a contract?

I’m anxious. Sweaty. Sick to my stomach.