33. Mandy
33
MANDY
S o, yeah, I was totally going to bash him over the head with a bottle, though maybe I shouldn’t since he does sign my paychecks.
Salinger’s clearly lost it, right?
Or maybe this is what he does. Maybe he gets off on locking whatever girl he’s screwing at the time in a swanky room in his obscenely large penthouse and having kinky sex with her. My stomach flip-flops as I suddenly remember the way it felt to have his fingers stroke me there . I am completely obsessed with his touch, and I haven’t even seen him naked. Pretty pathetic, right?
Right.
And, no, I am not fantasizing about being tied to a bedpost and fucked ’til I pass out, thank you very much.
I force myself off the bed, wrapping the robe around me. In all fairness, my prison cell-slash-guest room is very fancy and bigger than my studio apartment. One wall is an expanse of windows with a killer view over the skyline to the ocean. In the morning, I will be able to see the islands dotting the entrance to the bay, Salinger’s private island among them.
On an opposite wall is the breakfast bar, with a coffee maker, small fridge, tiny bar-sized sink, and a few contemporary European-style cups and saucers resting on a wooden tray. The floating shelf above the marble counter holds more glasses, a few plants, and some art.
Trailing my fingers along the shelves, I absently wonder how much input Salinger had in the decor. Did he just hire someone and move in, like one of those home-renovation shows? The bathroom is certainly nicer than anything I’ve seen on HGTV, with a freestanding tub that’s probably big enough for both him and me, though he is pretty large.
I so wish I had my phone. I’m dying to text Jess.
A chill washes over me.
I can’t really tell her what’s happening, though, since the only reason I’m here in Salinger’s house, locked in this expensively decorated room, is because I saw Jaxon at the club.
He didn’t see me. I escaped, I remind myself. Everything is fine. This is fine. Totally normal to be locked in your boss’s penthouse to hide from your stalker.
I’m suddenly shaking.
It’s because I’m cold, not because I’m still freaked out from earlier. The bathroom is freezing with all this marble.
“After dinner, I’m taking a bath,” I say aloud to try to ground myself. If I’m going to be stuck here, I’m definitely having a bath on Salinger’s dime .
It isn’t much warmer back in the bedroom. I long for Salinger’s arms to wrap around me.
The key grinds in the lock, and the door swings open. Salinger walks in, wary, carrying an open bottle of red wine with a fancy label and two glasses. His dress-shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows with neat cuffs, both sides exactly even. The top two buttons on the dress shirt are undone.
“1989 Chateau de Lune. An exclusive family-run vineyard.” He pours a splash into a glass and hands it to me to taste.
The wine is full and rich. I close my eyes, savor it. “Wow, you really do run an excellent kidnapping service, Mr. Svensson. Bravo. I will be leaving a four-star review for you.”
He pours more wine into my glass, and I toast him and take another long sip of wine.
“Mmm,” I moan. “This is really, really good. I’m going to up you to four-point-five stars.”
“Maybe this will get me up to five stars.” Reaching into his pocket, he takes out a phone in a familiar pink case.
“Ooh! Gimme.”
“Now who has a social-media addiction?” He smirks as I snatch my phone out of his hand.
“Wrong, doofus—I’m a workaholic.” I scroll through my emails and text messages.
Lauren has texted me to say that the guy she’s hooking up with surprised her in the club and got them VIP service. Austin is trying to make my scalloped sheet-pan potato recipe to impress a girl he likes and wants to know if he’s done it right. He has not.
“Who are you texting?” Salinger rests his chin on my shoulder .
“Not the police.” I throw the phone on the nightstand. “I wouldn’t call them on you until I see your dick.” The wine is really going to my head.
His mouth parts slightly, and his eyes narrow. “Now who’s getting off on this?”
“Since you have me as your prisoner…” My fingers tease the belt of the robe open. “Are you going to satisfy your every animalistic urge until I beg for mercy?” I can’t tell if I’m saying that just to get a rise out of him or if I really want him to treat me like his sexual plaything.
His eyes watch me hungrily. “I’m starting to think you read more than just the one book.”
“It really made an impact.”
“You’re just fucking with me, trying to make me angry, aren’t you?”
“More like being so obnoxious, you let me go home. I told you, I need to grocery shop.” I twirl the belt of the robe.
“Make a list of what you want. I’ll have it brought in.”
“I don’t know what I want. I like to see the new products.”
“Uh-huh.” He pours more wine for me then a glass for himself. Lifts it to his mouth.
I wait a beat, a little mesmerized by the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “So, is this like a kink thing for you, having a naked woman at your mercy who you can fuck whenever you want?”
His jaw is tight. “You’re the one who’s refusing to put on clothes.” He sets down the glass. “I told you, I’m trying to protect you.”
“But you clearly get a little off on it, right?”
Yeah, he’s annoyed now. He also left the door unlocked.
“I bet you like it.” I lean back and take a sip of wine, my feet kicking off the side of the bed. “You like knowing that you can come in here any time, whenever you want, and I have to give in to you.”
“That is not why you are here.” His voice drops an octave. I’m in the danger zone now. “I think the better question is…” He reaches for a button on his shirt. “Is this a kink thing for you? Mandy, my safe, boring little assistant. I knew you fantasized about me. I just didn’t know it was this.”
“About trying to kill you,” I remind him weakly.
“Wrong. About me fucking you. I see you looking at me. I don’t miss things like that—the desire, the longing. You want me to grab you by your hair, bend you over, force you onto your hands and knees, spread your legs, slap your ass when you don’t spread them wide enough, then make you scream as I take you with my huge, thick cock.” His gray eyes are cold. “You’re just too afraid to actually ask me for what you want.”
“You’re being an asshole,” I force out, because he’s right. I don’t have the cojones to actually ask him for what I want. Because I am afraid—not of him but of him rejecting me.
“On the contrary, I’m being very generous, because now, you can have me.” Two more buttons are undone. “All you have to do is ask.”
“Your offers always come with strings attached.”
He’s finished with the final two buttons. His muscles ripple as he twists off the dress shirt.
I take another swallow of wine, try to act casual, try to pretend like I’m not internally screaming about having my boss naked in my bed. Well, not mine—but you know, this bed is probably better.
The unlocked door is forgotten.
Gray eyes locked to mine, he slowly climbs on the bed. I lean back like a coward, trying not to let that delicious, bare chest touch me.
He hovers over me, his nose inches away from mine.
“Beg me for it.”
My glass sloshes, and I shriek as I spill wine all over my hand, red rivulets running down my arm.
His mouth is there, licking it off of me. He runs his tongue over the soft skin of the underside of my forearm, but all I can imagine is him running it between my legs.
He takes the glass and sits up, still straddling me. The heat from him is intense. If I had a little more wine or was a little less of a scaredy cat, I would reach up and palm the huge cock I imagine waits under those charcoal-gray slacks.
His head tips back as he drains the rest of the glass. His other hand goes to his belt, unbuckling it, slithering it out of the belt loops, tossing it to the floor with a soft clank of metal.
I taste the tannin of the wine on his mouth as he kisses me, long and slow. Languid is the word, though I want it hard and fast.
“I want…” I murmur against his mouth.
“Beg.” His teeth nip my lip. “No?” He sits back up.
I grasp desperately for him.
“Too bad.” He gazes down at me, dispassionate. “It would have made what I did to you in my car look like a joke.”
If he was wearing his tie, I would have grabbed it and pulled him back down to me. Instead, I grab one bulging bicep and haul myself upright, the robe half sliding off my shoulder .
“I want…” I slide my arm out of the sleeve. “I’m begging you…” The rest of the robe falls away.
His eyes flick down then back up to mine. “Better.”
I’m mesmerized by the way his mouth moves. I lick my lips. “Please use me.”
“How?” His hands cups the back of my neck.
The words are cool on my mouth. “Dominate me. I want to feel you everywhere.”
“Much better.” He crushes our mouths together, his tongue claiming my mouth. The squeezing of his hand on the back of my neck makes me feel lightheaded, and my heartbeat is pounding in my brain.
“Make me yours.”
His hand tightens in my hair, then he’s dragging me screaming down the mattress while my fingers grab for purchase.
I land in a heap on the soft carpet.
“Say it.”
“I want…”
He steps around in front of me.
“I need… to see it before you…” I trail off, not able to say it.
“Fuck your pussy raw?” It’s the same bored, professional tone, like we’re in a meeting discussing dividends, not about to… you know.
He forces my head back so I look up at him and slides two fingers in my mouth. I suck on them like I would suck on his cock. I slide my hands over my tits, playing with my nipples, imagining his mouth there.
“You know what your problem is?” He’s trying to be the cool and collected boss, but there’s tension in his baritone. “ A lack of specificity.” He withdraws his fingers and moves them to my breast, pinching my nipples.
He’s behind me now, forcing my head forward until I balance on my hands and knees.
“Spread your legs. Wider.” He kicks my legs apart. His spit-wet fingers poke at me—no, not there. Higher. “I want to see all of you. Everything that’s mine.”
Is that how he’s going to use me? I’m so wet that it’s running down my thighs.
“You said you want me to use you however I want, but you didn’t say how,” he continues.
Shoot, is it going to hurt? Is he just going to ram himself in there and fuck me ’til I pass out? I practically come just thinking about it. His fingers move lower. I moan low in my throat, arching my back. That definitely earns me a ragged breath from him.
“I know you want me to fuck your pussy raw, fuck you ’til you squeal, ’til you’re addicted to my cock. Unfortunately, you didn’t say that.”
“Wh-What are you going to do to me instead?” I stammer.
He laughs softly. “I’m certainly not going to fuck you.”
“What?” I squeak. If he didn’t have his hand in my hair, I would turn around and curse at him. “Dickwad.”
He responds by stroking me hard, making me shudder.
“I told you. I really need you to work for it, show me you’re worthy of my cum in your mouth. You know I only want the best of the best.”
I can’t see him, but I know he’s smirking. “No, please, I want— ”
“Too late. The terms of tonight’s agreement have already been negotiated. I’m just going to eat you out until you beg for mercy.”
My whole body shudders as his presses his mouth between my legs, his tongue licking up the slit to my ass.
“God, your cunt tastes so fucking good. I’m going to enjoy this.” His fingers tighten in my hair, the only indication that I’m having any effect on him at all.
Me? I’m ready to explode.
“Please, Salinger.”
“It’s Mr. Svensson in bed.”
“Fuck you, Salinger. Give me your cock.”
“Where? Here?” Two fingers slide into me. My pussy flexes around his fingers as he thrusts. His fingers curl. “Like that?”
“Man up and fuck me,” I pant as he strokes me.
He responds by sucking on my clit. With him fingerfucking me, his tongue swirling and sucking on my clit, I’m gone, choking on a scream as the orgasm hits me in waves.
“Shit.” My thighs are trembling.
“We’re not done.” His grip leaves my hair, then both hands spread me as his tongue laps at my opening.
“I don’t know if I—”
“I told you, Mandy.” He licks me again, making me quake. “I need star players.”
My head lolls forward.
“Let me hear you. Tell me how good it feels.” He gives me a long, slow lick.
I moan in pleasure.
“Louder. ”
I cry out as he sucks my clit, working it with his tongue. My hips rock back against his mouth, making needy circles, spreading my juices all over his face.
He reaches forward, teasing my nipple and driving me over the edge of pleasure, then he pauses.
“Please,” I whine, “let me finish.”
“I told you, I like begging. It’s highly motivating.”
“Please, Mr. Svensson,” I beg as he plays with my tits, not touching my pussy, leaving me there hanging by a razor-sharp thread. “Please, I’m a good girl—I’m a good little prisoner.”
“You tried to escape.” He pinches a nipple, making me cry out.
“I won’t anymore. I’ll be here waiting for you. Anytime you want my pussy, it’s yours.”
“That’s what I need to hear.”
I groan in relief as his mouth is back on my clit, licking me, sending me over the edge.
“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Svensson, thank you,” I chant as he milks out the orgasm.
“Shit, Mandy, that’s fucking hot.”
“Yeah, that was pretty hot.”
“Was?”
“Seriously.”
“You’re not begging for mercy.” His hand is back in my hair.
He pushes my head forward until my nose is almost on the ground. My arms tremble, my ass up in the air. His breath is hot on me. I can’t even cry out as I’m swamped by the sensation of him. All I can do is moan helplessly as he rubs my clit, aching and raw but still craving him. His tongue fucks my pussy then moves up higher to lap at the tight opening.
“Shit,” I pant, my hips bucking forward at the sensation.
“Yeah, I like this.” His breath is hot against me. His thick fingers spread my cheeks so he can tongue me, giving me enough of a taste to make me long for his cock.
I come with his fingers on my clit and his tongue licking my hole.
He slaps my ass, and I collapse on the floor.
“I want to fuck your ass so bad right now.”
“Do it,” I say, or at least I try to. It comes out like I’m trying to talk through a mouth full of oatmeal.
I hear wine pour into a glass.
“Get on the bed,” Salinger says.
I groan.
“I said, get on the bed.” His hand is back in my hair, yanking me upright.
I stumble to sit on the bed. He lifts the glass to my mouth. I swallow some wine.
“You ready for round two?”
“Round two?” I squawk.
He’s wearing his trademark smirk. Also, considering he’s had his face in my pussy for the last twenty minutes, his hair looks unfairly awesome. He drains the glass, puts it aside.
I fall back onto the bed as he kisses me. His fingers are insistent on my aching pussy. My body seizes up. I rake my nails on his back, in his hair, as he eats me out. It doesn’t take long. He keeps going. If I could remember how to talk, I would beg for mercy.
He’s not holding me down anymore, not that it matters. My limbs are jelly. I’m not going anywhere .
Does he mean it? I wonder deliriously as the waves of pleasure build again. Will he literally eat me out until I beg for mercy?
I come again with a low moan and lay sprawled there.
“You want to quit?”
“I’m not letting you win, asshole.”
Yet it still wasn’t enough. I know that if he gave me his cock, I would have a real orgasm, the life-ruining kind that could make you fall for Mr. Absolutely Not.
He’s spreading my legs again, and I’m wondering if maybe I’ve made a horrible mistake, when my phone lights up on the nightstand, the FaceTime app ringing.
I glance over.
Unknown Number.
Panic sets in, chasing away the floating, drugged-up post-sex haze. “It’s him,” I choke out before I can stop myself.