Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Fifteen

“But what does he do?” I ask Miranda for the fifth time, following her around the huge living room I haven’t even had a minute to admire. There’s a whole wall of books, from floor to ceiling and it even has a ladder – I’ve only seen that shit in movies!

But I’ll check that out later. I need intel.

“Mrs. Farrow, please,” She huffs impatiently, “I have work to do.”

“You’ve fluffed that pillow three times.”

She gives me a withering stare and moves on, “Don’t you have something to do?” She presses.

“Nope, I’m free as a bird.” I tell her. “I just need like a routine or something?”

“Why?”

“I’m his wife,” I say, lying about my motivations, “I should know my husband’s schedule.”

“It didn’t seem like you wanted it this morning when he was bashing down the door.”

I cringe, “Yes well,” I wave a hand, “That was then, and this is now.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously, “He works a lot.” Is all she gives me.

Work? Pfft, that isn’t work. That’s preying on the helpless.

“And when he is here?”

“He rides the horses. Works out. That’s it.”

I know she’s bullshitting me.

“Is there a gym here?”

She nods.

“Where?”

“Mrs. Farrow, if you’d please let me get on with my work.” She dismisses me, her chunky heels stomping on the floor as she runs away from me.

Fine. Before I go in search of someone else more willing to cooperate with me, I wander toward those towering shelves. So many books, there’s some ancient ones on the shelves, with leather spines and crackled gold lettering, newer works and biographies. It’s a book worms dream. I let my hands trail over the works, admiring the array of colors on display. It’s the main feature in this room, not the grand fireplace dominating the other wall, or the several plush sofas or the expensive sculptures.

Deciding I’ll revisit and select a few books to read since I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time on my hands, I go in search of someone else.

And find no one.

This whole house is filled with staff, they’re always around and yet I can’t find a single one. Miranda probably told them all to avoid me though I have no idea why they’d want to keep the information from me.

It’s the first day I’ve been truly alone here.

Pulling out my cell, I dial Willow’s number and she answers on the first ring.

“Bitch!” She hollers down the phone, “What the fuck happened!?”

“What?” I frown.

“You disappeared and then Malakai had everyone leave. He cleared the whole place out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After that hoe bag threw her wine on you,” she says by explanation.

Oh. That.

“I passed out.” I admit.

“You passed out,” She repeats, “Malakai was pissed, Oli. Like scary mad.”

“Just showing you the real him,” I shrug even though I’m wondering if that’s even true. Which version of Malakai is the real one?

Shaking my head to myself, I wander upstairs to the bedroom. It’s been cleaned since this morning, new sheets fitted, the hamper emptied, and the bathroom tidied like no one has even stayed in here.

It’s nothing like my apartment. Sure, I had the penthouse, and I loved it, the space, the view but it was lived in. I had dirty glasses in the sink and laundry in the basket. There was dust on shelves and limp looking plants on the sides. It was a home but this, this just seems like a show room. You can look but don’t touch.

Shaking my head, I take a seat on the end of the bed before I flop down onto my back, looking up at the white ceiling.

“I don’t know,” She answers my previous statement, “He doesn’t seem that bad.”

I roll my eyes though she can’t see me, “I woke up next to him this morning.”

“What!?” She squeals.

“Nothing happened. I fell asleep in his bed and when I realized I freaked out so bad I fell out of it. Then his dick was in my face.”

“Wait. Hold up. Nothing happened but you had that man’s penis in your face?”

I laugh to myself as I remember how ridiculous it was, “Sure did. It was hard for it not to be. I was on the floor; he was stood up.”

“But you didn’t put it in your mouth?” She hedges.

“No!”

“I bet that man is packing some serious heat, am I right?”

My cheeks burn with the memory. Those flannels didn’t hide much, and Willow isn’t wrong. Thick, hard, long…

“Oli!?” Willow snaps my name, bringing me out of my own head. “Were you just picturing his dick?”

“Stop talking about his dick,” I sit up, fidgeting to try and disperse some of this tension in my muscles.

“Okay but can you confirm first? I need to know for research purposes.”

“Research?” I scoff incredulously.

“Yes.” She states matter of fact.

“Fine. Yes.” I give up the information reluctantly, wiping the back of my neck.

“I knew it!”

“Okay new topic, did you fuck Sebastian?”

“No,” I can hear her pout through the phone, “He told me I was too drunk and to go home and sleep it off.”

“Wow.”

“Mmhmm,” she grumbles. “I don’t like this topic.”

I laugh, “Well I’m bored out of my mind. Malakai is off in the city and all the staff here are avoiding me.”

“I see you’re making friends,” she says sarcastically.

“Whatever. I’m going now.”

“Don’t be sour,” she laughs, “You’ll settle in soon enough.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say, “Love you, bye.”

“Loveyoubye!” She says it so quickly all the words roll together and then the phone disconnects, leaving me in a silent room.

Snow is gently falling beyond the window, settling onto the already frozen ground but as peaceful as it is, I can’t relax. It has a lot to do with this morning. Now I’m a woman who has control over herself, one bad experience some years ago sort of forced me to do it, but seeing Malakai like he was this morning…

All those muscles, that lazy feline grin on his face, the hard length of his erection.

I squirm, the heat building in my core making my thighs ache.

“Don’t do it, Oli,” I talk to myself, “You’re not getting off to images of the husband you didn’t want.”

But fuck, I’m horny.

Rolling my neck side to side I walk into the closet, searching through all my things for the little box I know I packed and sent here. There wasn’t much inside, a couple of vibrators but they did the job, now where is it?

I rifle through the whole closet, but I don’t find it anywhere. Where would they have put it? Fuck. Did they open it?

I’m too turned on at the moment to give a shit.

“Fuck it,” I grumble, crossing the room to the mammoth bed, I crawl up it, settling myself into the mountain of cushions as I let my hand slip beneath my leggings.

My eyes shutter closed at the first swipe of my fingers against my pussy, the wetness there helping the glide as I work myself slowly. I feel ridiculous, to be so worked up over something so miniscule so I decide I’m putting it down to how long it’s been. I slip a finger down, sinking it inside of me as I press the heel of my palm to my clit, allowing myself the friction as I work my finger in and out of me. My other hand trails up and under my sweater, sliding over the warm skin of my abdomen until I cup my breast, squeezing my nipple between my thumb and finger.

My little whimper seems obscenely loud in the silent bedroom, but I work my hand faster, applying more pressure as my muscles begin to spasm. My hips lift from the bed as if searching for more and I add a second finger, pushing myself over that edge with a loud moan.

I keep my hand moving until the aftershocks of my orgasm subside and slowly pull my hand from my leggings, releasing my breath.

“Quite the show, kitten,” his voice startles me enough I let out a scream and my eyes snap to him. He’s leaning on the door, legs crossed at the ankles but when my lips part and heat floods my cheeks, he pushes away from the door, prowling toward me. There’s a heat in his eyes and determination in his steps.

I’m lost for words.

He watched it. He watched it all.

Frozen solid and slowly dying a little inside, I can’t take my eyes off him as he moves to the edge of the bed closest to me, grasps my wrist gently and brings my hand toward him. My eyes widen as a new wave of arousal floods me when his lips wrap around the fingers I’d just had inside of me, and his tongue licks them clean.

I’m completely floored, even when he steps away, straightens his suit jacket, and leaves the room.

“Meet me downstairs,” He calls before he can completely disappear, “You’re due a tour.”