Page 69 of Stand: Part One
Taking victory in my silence, Darren grinned.
“Clive, will you please escort Mrs. Davis back upstairs to her little den before her doting husband breaks those same fucking bones again?”
Darren’s eyes pinned mine as Clive stood from his chair, and all I could do was stare back with as much defiance as I could muster, which turned out to be very little.
“Come on, Camaro,” I sighed, motioning for her to follow me.
“Camaro stays,” Darren ordered, his attention now focused on whatever the fuck was on his desk. I stopped in my tracks and practically snarled at him.
“What?”
“You fucking heard me, you little brat. Now go. I’ll deal with you later.”
If there was an order created for Camaro to go piss on his rug and chew up his chairs, I would have given it to her. Instead, I begrudgingly told my best girl to go lay in her bed in the corner of Darren’s office while Clive ushered me out the door.
“Is it possible for you to go just one day without pissing him off?” Clive scolded as we headed for the stairs.
“Not really. It’s kind of my thing,” I replied with a shrug.
Clive rolled his eyes as he impatiently escorted me back up the stairs, practically carrying me up each one.
“I can walk these now, in case you forgot,” I argued, pulling away from him, but he just gripped me tighter.
“Just shut up, Jaden. I don’t have the patience for your pride right now.”
I scoffed at his dismissal. “You had plenty of patience for it when you ate all those water balloons earlier.”
“That’s different. I was ordered to.”
I shook my head as we turned the corner toward my little J-den. Clive just clearly didn’t understand or appreciate how much Darren enjoyed being challenged by me.
As dumb as it sounded, it was actually a win-win for both of us. I lashed out whenever I felt inclined, and Darren got the pleasure of punishing me for it.
As much as he loved my submission, it was the act of fucking me into submission that he truly lived for. And then suddenly his mood would improve to a much more favorable temperature.
Hence, the dumb bitch juice.
Once I was inside, Clive abruptly slammed the door behind me, his footsteps thundering down the hall as he headed back downstairs.
I shook my head at his exit strategy. He was so fucking dramatic sometimes.
Blowing out a breath of irritation, I sank down into my couch and got comfortable. It only took about three minutes of staring out the window before I found my eyes struggling to remain open. The exhaustion of today’s final therapy session was suddenly catching up with me.
Lying my head back against the throw pillow, I propped my legs up on the cushions and closed my eyes. I had lay there like that for about fifteen minutes, close to falling asleep when the cuffs of my wrists were suddenly drawn to the cuffs at my ankles.
My eyes snapped open.
“What the fuck!” I screeched as I found my knees bending so my ankles could comfortably reach my wrists.
When my right wrist connected with my right ankle and my left wrist with my left ankle, I sat up with my knees tucked to my chest, my legs having no other place to stretch out unless I leaned all the way forward.
Oh, come on, not this shit.
Heavy footsteps vibrated through the floors, loudly informing me that nap time was now over. The door to the room was abruptly shoved open, an angry Darren barreling through and slamming the door closed behind him. When his hard gaze locked with mine, I felt my gut shrivel, but I remained steadfast.
“The fuck is this?” I asked, gesturing to the cuffs with my chin.
He scowled, anger blaring from his eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?” The threat in his tone was all too promising.
