Page 57 of Five to Love Him
I shrugged at the exact moment my phone dinged. I glanced at it to see that Tate had texted me back a Yes, please.
“You’re a hive. You can take care of more than one person occasionally. I’m just going to go and hang out with Tate in the cafeteria, okay?”
The hive held me for a long moment before letting me go. From what I’d learned about them, I knew they hated being apart from me. I agreed with them a little more each day.
twenty-six
I observed my secretary with two of his hivelings from behind my office door, open just a crack to allow me to remain undetected while I watched them.
“The fuck’re you doing, Farrow?” the cretin of a manservant asked from one of my armchairs. He’d propped his booted feet on my coffee table as he lounged there like the scoundrel he was.
“Shush. I’m watching the secretary and the hive.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Language,” I said automatically, not meaning to. I had no issue with blasphemy, but my parentage had drilled the avoidance into me, something Conrad loved to exploit in order to annoy me.
“It’s language all right. What, are those two fucking in the corridor?”
I made the most dismissive sound I could muster. “Of course not. I hired a human who knows how to behave. He’s mild-mannered and does whatever task I set him to, unlike other people I could name.”
A dark chuckle filled the room, and Conrad stood. I hardly needed to turn to know how he looked, moving toward me, all swagger and long legs, the scar on his lip stretched to paleness as he watched me like a tiger might a fawn.
“You want to call me out on misbehaving when it’s you who has the stick up his ass?” he whispered, his lips close to my ear though never touching. “Wait. I’m taking that back. You don’t have anything up there, which is entirely the problem, isn’t it? Is that why you’re watching those two vanilla idiots?”
“There are two hivelings out there with him. Your arithmetic is failing you. We have classes for that.”
He exhaled, his face still so close to my ear that I heard the whooshing of his breath.
“If you’re so good at counting, Farrow, how about I bend you over my leg and slap that little ass of yours while you count the hits, hmm?”
I carefully closed the door though I didn’t flip the lock. “You are the most base creature I have known in all my years. My blood in your veins is wasted, you little—”
His big hand came down on my butt, hitting right in the center so that I clenched.
“Right. You keep yapping, Farr. You can run your mouth all while I’m slapping this beautiful ass of yours raw, and then you can keep on drooling your vitriol while I plug that hole and spill inside you. How’s that sound, you highborn piece of trash?”
“How dare you? How dare you insult me like that, after everything I’ve done for you and—”
Conrad had excellent hands. They were strong, dexterous, and he’d taken much care to keep them clean and smooth, though when we had still been human, they had been rougher than my own.
Using those strong hands, he squeezed my behind, forcing me to clamp my mouth shut lest I scream out and alert the newest member of staff to Conrad’s escapades.
“That’s right. Someone hints you might be getting it good, you shut right up and stretch out your tight little ass. Lean against the door. I don’t want to have to look at your face during this.”
“You insolent fool. Or no, are you afraid to see my superior breeding when you look upon my countenance? You may bow, Conrad, and kiss the ground I walk on. Take your paw off me.”
He snickered. “Fuck no. Your ass is mine now. I’ll cum so deep in there that your belly will bulge with it.”
“Hah! As if you had the skill! People like you are nothing more than handsome stallions in rut. You don’t know what to do with that cock of yours unless you find a master who can show you the way.”
“Right.”
He pushed me against the door and kicked my legs apart with his sodden boots. Those really were ugly, though not as bad as those flip-flops he had taken to wearing at home to extinguish the last fiber of patience and rational thought his constant disrespect had left me with. It had made me be late several times already this summer, and I regretted none of the tardiness whatsoever.
“Unhand me,” I said when he worked open my belt and trousers, those hands of his too quick and smart.
“Don’t wanna.” He pulled down my trousers just far enough that he could rub against me—which he didn’t do. His palm came down hard and fast, the slap of skin on skin loud in my otherwise quiet office.
