Chapter 26

While driving us home from the pool party, Dave looked over and flashed a mischievous grin.

“Derrin called.”

In an instant, I stopped laughing with him at the last image of Sheila when we’d departed. From their home’s front bay window, her wide eyes had tracked the car. At any second, I’d expected her to dash from the house and leap right inside.

Heart seizing and chest tightening, I eased shiny fingers from my bikini bottom. As they pressed, quivering, against my shaking stomach, a machine gun of thoughts raced into my mind.

What does he want?

Why now?

Why had he called Dave?

Is he tired of trying to get hold of me?

Will Dave agree to me working again?

Or will my husband end everything?

Money was still pouring in. A lot of it. More than we could ever spend. My frame chilled.

“Well, actually, he returned my call.” Those chills shook me at his raised eyebrow. “It’s time to renegotiate your contract.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.” After grinning at me, he tugged on a string, tightening the tiny triangle on my tit. “Strip, slut.”

Renegotiate!

Gaze locked onto him, again focused on the road, I ripped the soaking bikini away.

He was going to keep me working for Derrin. My heart fluttered.

“It is who you are.”

At first, I nodded in agreement, then my heart staggered; he hadn’t spoken. But when Dave looked over at me, his eyes said it once more.

“It is who you are.”

It was. After spreading my legs wide, I splayed across the front seat as I often did on our usual display drives. When the windows descended with a whir, warm, humid air sluiced over my naked frame. He slowed as we meandered through town.

“Whose slut are you?”

“Yours, sir.”

In a replay of my night at the club, when Troy had played with me, his fingers eased apart my sloppy petals. As I smiled at him, the breeze slipping into my tight gate sent shivers through me. With a grin, he dipped a fingertip into me, and I whimpered, thrusting my hips upwards into his hand.

“Just remember that, little slut.” He lifted the glossy digit to his mouth and sucked.

“Yes, sir.” After dropping myself back to the car seat, I huffed and flicked my tongue over my lips while watching curious faces in the cars alongside us at an intersection.

“I’m serious, Laura.” His eyes, glinting with that scary darkness, fixed on me. That got me shivering even more. “Any deviation from our agreement and we’re through.”

Once more, there was that icy tone. After so long, his using it was shocking, and air caught in my throat as I struggled to answer. The image of that manila envelope flashed into my mind. He hadn’t tossed it away. Instead, it sat on a shelf behind the desk in the home office.

After a loud swallow, I licked my lips and gave him a quick nod. “Yes, sir.”

Never again would I risk my marriage or love for him. That’d never happen, so long as I was honest. Plus, paid him for my playtime. I would. And I’d love it. I already loved what he’d become and what he’d done for me.

“Yes, sir,” I repeated as he looked over and smiled at me. After lowering my fingers, I eased them into my sloppy folds. Then further. With them pressing into my sensitive flesh, my torso arched upward. More hungry moans slid from my parted lips as I gazed at him.

“Good little slut.” He flashed me a smile as we entered our neighborhood.

Through the pulsing haze that was my life, I smiled back. My gaze remained locked on the man I loved.

A week later, as heads turned to watch me descend on my husband’s arm, my heels clacked down wide, golden-trimmed marble steps. While leaving the luxury hotel, the myriad gilded chains between my boobs, free-swaying in a loose black halter minidress, clinked. Its tiny skirt was a mere afterthought; most of my thighs were on display.

As he flashed a bright smile, his eyes shimmered. Though we’d worn casual clothes for the short flight, now he wore a well-fitted, gray silk business suit. The enticing aroma of his cologne was woodsy, leathery, and oh, so very masculine.

A breeze caught the playful hem and cool air sliced over my bare flesh. He’d watch me shave. God, I loved that. Just then, the low hum inside me sped up, causing a dribble of soft rivulets that tickled my inner thighs. As he slid his hand from a pocket holding the phone, his smile widened. I played a trembling fingernail along the collar tight to my throat. In a nearby window, its shiny letters glimmered.

While we waited for our ride, ignoring the ogling stares, I leaned into him. No words passed between us. None were necessary. When his hand tugged me closer, I gnawed on his ear and over his neck. A whimper escaped me as widespread fingers slid under the dress to engulf one of my butt cheeks.

A brilliant white limousine approached. Once again, Derrin had spared no expense. But he had no clue what was about to happen.

When my husband helped me into the back of the long car, I chuckled into his ear, then whispered, “Derrin’s gonna play hardball.”

“I know. Countin’ on it.” After climbing in, he pulled me close and slid his fingers under my dress. “But I’m gonna play harder.”

With a moan, I dropped my head to his shoulder while his fingertips ran soft little circles around my gold-trapped swollen nib. Flaring heat zipped from it to my clamped nipples and flashed deep inside me. A much shakier moan escaped me as I arched into his chest.

“I have something he wants,” he said. As I sighed, dragging my tongue along his warm neck, he smiled. “Badly.”

And he was so right.

Neither Dave nor I had given Derrin any reason why I hadn’t worked since the after-party. However, he was well aware of how much money I—we—had already made. When Derrin had called me several weeks earlier, Dave had yanked the phone from me and told him to fuck off.

Fuck off?

Dave never cursed like that, and I’d gasped. But the smile he flashed me after adding that Derrin should call him from then on before hanging up warmed my heart. And parts far below my heart.

God, I love my husband.

Over the following weeks, Dave and I had responded to a lot of my fans—my hungry fans. And they wanted more of me. That’s why he’d called Derrin. And also why we were in that limo—together.

Just as we pulled to a stop, he removed and licked his fingers before attaching a long, shiny leash from the swaying chest chains. while gazing deep into my soul, he ran it through the black collar’s gilded ring. The driver said nothing as my husband tugged me from the vehicle.

The clicking of my heels as he led me up a short flight of broad stone stairs before the golden-trimmed glass entrance of a downtown building echoed like gunshots. Each step sent my heartbeat racing quicker. Unlike the last time I’d been taken into a similar place, I wasn’t drunk. Nor lust-crazed. No, despite the pulsing of the world, a strange calm wrapped me tight as the man I loved took me to our destiny.

Once we’d entered, my view swept a dark, polished wood-lined lobby. Anyone hearing those somehow louder click-clacks from my sharp heels turned. A few gasped. More murmured. But a quick glance at my wedding ring, glinting in the subdued lighting, brought a smile to my face. And, behind Dave, his gaze fixed forward, I mimicked him, striding for shiny, metallic elevator doors. That’s right, world. My husband is leading me, his slutty wife—read the damn collar—to her fate. Our fate.

Inside the elevator, he ignored another couple. With a curt tug, he pulled my swaying form closer. Ablaze with the most amazing glimmer, his gorgeous eyes delved deep into my soul.

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