Chapter 50
His stupid little contract…
Delaney
Sitting at my desk, scrolling through a massive list of unread emails, struggling to focus on work; my mind kept wandering to the same thing over and over…Dallas.
I bit the corner of my lip seductively, replaying all the dirty and delicious things he did to me. Every cell in my body responded to his every move, and suddenly, the thought of his touch alone got me all hot and bothered. His command over my body like he owned me sent a shiver down my spine.
And like a good little slut I obeyed his every order without hesitation. In the moment, in that dark dimly lit room, as the red hues glistened off of his muscular body and that mask.
Every minute took me closer to the raging orgasm that crept to the surface and threatened to step over the threshold of euphoria, only for Dallas to yank me back and start the build up all over again.
How thrilling to hear those direct and degrading words cross his lips to meet my eager ears as his hand wrapped around my throat.
Then, after I obediently released my orgasm right on his command, my body trembling under his hold I felt a sensation I could only describe as a totally out-of-body experience.
I craved his mighty roar that bellowed from deep within his broad chest as he rode the wave of his own release.
His warm, sticky mess is like a masterpiece left on my skin from our excursion into mutual ecstasy.
I was pulled from my lustful thoughts when a manilla envelope stuffed to the brim fell onto my desk with a boom.
Trent, the mail guy, eyeing me as if he could clearly read my thoughts. That part may have just been my imagination or he might have been responding to the flush I was more than certain had crept over my face and chest by now with what was on my mind.
I looked down at the parcel then back up to Trent who was still standing at my desk. “What’s this?” I pointed to the thick parcel.
“It’s for you, some guy brought it in earlier. He said to be sure you received this before you left for the day.” He announced passing by me as he replaced the earbud back to the nook of his ear and walked away slowly, pushing his mail cart along and nodding his head politely.
I glanced back down at the envelope and cautiously examined it, turning it over in my hands. It was thick and heavy. I reached into my top drawer to pull out a letter opener, carefully slicing the top open to reveal the parcel’s contents.
There was something suspicious about the envelope. It had no address or label on it and the smell that came from it was somehow familiar. It was a pleasant woodsy scent, barely noticeable, yet so overwhelming. I have definitely smelled this scent before…
My mind raced trying to place it as I spilled the contents of the envelope out onto my desk.
My attention shifted immediately to the stack of black and white photos of Dallas pressed against some woman dressed in nearly nothing.
His face was nestled into her neck, obscured by her hair but I knew it was Dallas by the tattoos.
I diligently memorized each one of the beautiful pieces of art that covered his skin.
I looked at each photo carefully, searching for answers, trying to find any reason to believe that the photos were old or somehow irrelevant.
I was pretending that I wasn’t raging with undeniable jealousy, but who was I kidding?
I was hot with anger when I saw what I was looking for in the corner of one of the photos.
The photo of these two getting all chummy on a balcony, where he had her pressed against the railing, one hand on either side of her gripping the metal so tight that his knuckles were turning white.
Right there, I saw what I needed to see: a time stamp.
It was dated for the day we returned from the beach house, the night he left me at the penthouse alone.
The night I spent laying awake worrying, wondering if I had done something wrong, if I had done something to push him away.
The gut wrenching realization hit me hard as I stared deep into the photo in front of me. He isn’t mine, not really. He was free to do as he pleased with whoever he wanted, I had no right to be upset.
So why did I feel so heartbroken? I was only his under a contractual agreement, there was never supposed to be anything real, so why did seeing that photo make me feel like he betrayed me?
My mind reeled as intrusive thoughts of self doubt and worry filled my head, staring at the stack of photo after photo of the two of them together, until my overactive imagination took the reins and forced me to imagine the two of them doing the things he did with me.
It was only then did I admit what my heart knew all along: I officially fell for him.
I had fallen for Dallas Kingston, the owner of Club Crawl, the most elite kink club in L.A.
A man that could have any woman he wanted at the snap of his fingers.
I stupidly fell right into his game and opened myself up to vulnerability, unknowingly putting myself in a place I never wanted to be.
* * *
After packing up my laptop and the pictures of Dallas and the nameless beautiful redhead, I started toward the front doors of the building. I stopped short remembering that Trevor was outside waiting for me like he had been since starting this whole arrangement with Dallas.
I didn’t want to see him or anyone associated with Dallas. I just wanted to go back home to mine and Lacy’s house and just forget I ever met Dallas fucking Kingston. She was right. He really was an arrogant asshole.
Because despite the right that I lacked in feeling deceived, I was still definitely feeling hurt.
I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to sign his stupid little contract but to see it in my face with my own eyes like that…
that was harsh, and eye opening. I would never be more than just a Sub to him.
I turned on my heels and headed for the back entrance where I could make an escape without having to answer to Trevor or anybody else, more specifically Dallas.
He said I was allowed to leave whenever I wanted since the contract was not legally binding despite the formality of actual signatures.
He said he wouldn’t judge me if I chose to walk away, if I didn’t like my experience.
I think that was more so out of anticipation that his preference for a more kinky lifestyle would be too much for me, or that I wasn’t ready for the intensity of the sexual endeavors.
I was fuming, full of sadness, confusion, shame, and anger, all a mess of intense emotions now fueling the urge to walk away, pushing me closer towards the door that led to the alleyway outside.
Then it hit me: nobody actually had any knowledge about our contract, and nobody knew who Dallas really was without his mask…
so how and why would anyone link the two of us together to think that these photos had the power to hurt me?
Were the photos some sort of plot to get me to leave Dallas alone? Or worse, to get me alone?