Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
GRACE
I waddle through my front door, gritting my teeth as the leather edges of the chastity belt rub against the tender creases of my thighs.
Not only is it wholly uncomfortable, but the leather rubs against my clit with each slight movement, leaving me in a constant state of stimulation.
All I want to do is rip the thing off and jump under the covers with one of my vibrators, but unless Seven has decided to be merciful, I doubt that’s going to happen.
I gaze longingly toward the bathroom, knowing a nice warm bath would be the next best thing—but I have no desire to deal with a waterlogged belt after the fact.
“Fucking asshole,” I grumble, shuffling into my bedroom.
I stop short in the center of the room, my heart freezing at the sight in front of me.
Lying at the foot of my bed is a small brown package—similar to the one I found on my doorstep the other day.
A part of me wants to toss the thing and pretend it never existed.
But the larger, more rational part knows the consequences would be dire if I did something like that.
Seven would find out somehow, and I would pay dearly.
Swallowing hard, I reach for the box, my fingers trembling as I pry the top open. I hold my breath, squinting as I investigate the contents. Choking back a sob of relief, I lift the small silver key out of the box, clutching it tightly in my palm as if it might disappear if I don’t hold on tight.
Pulling myself together, I strip off my clothes, fitting the key into the lock at my hip. Ironically, I notice it's on the same side as my brand, so I have to stare at the tattoo while I work to fit the tiny key into the hole.
The chastity belt falls to the floor, and I let out a sigh of relief. I have the urge to throw the contraption out the window, but I doubt Seven would like that very much. Gritting my teeth, I pick it up and place it on the top shelf of my closet, hoping he will be unable to find it.
Now that I can relax, I head into the bathroom. I’m about to turn on the tub faucet when I notice another, larger package sitting at the base of the tub.
My smile falls from my face. I should have known Seven wouldn’t do something nice without following it up with something worse.
Stomach in knots, I open the box. Like the first time, there’s a note, and underneath, a bejeweled yellow butt plug—though, this one is noticeably thicker than the first plug he gifted me.
I place it in the palm of my hand, my stomach twisting with dread. Sweet Lord. There is no way this will fit inside me. No way in hell.
But that’s not what Seven thinks. I pull out the note and read his messy scrawl.
You were such a good girl today, I decided you can take your plug out tonight. In the morning, you are to replace it with this one. I’ll know if you disobey.
P.S. I left you some more gifts under the sink. They should help you relax for your *big* day tomorrow.
Love,
Seven
A big day? Ha-ha.
My heart thrums as I crumple the note in my palm, anticipation prickling the back of my neck. I should hate how dark and kinky Seven is, but I can’t help but love it. Something is seriously wrong with me, and I don't know if it's always been this way or if meeting Seven truly changed me.
Thinking about what the note said, I look under the sink, and sure enough, Seven left me more presents.
Dozens of brightly colored containers fill the space that used to be there—bath bombs, salts, lotions, scrubs, shampoos, soaps, and oils—so much variety that I’m unsure where to look.
I could take a bath every day for the next three years and still have product to spare.
My chest clenches with a foreign emotion, but I do my best to shake it off. Yes, this is sweet, but I can’t forget the other gifts he’s given me. I can’t forget how he torments me, stalks me, and uses me for his sick pleasure.
Though I’m itching to reach for one of the expensive bath oils sitting at the front, I refrain. Closing the door, I move back to the tub, reaching for my regular old bubble bath.
It’s not nearly as nice as Seven’s, but at least I won’t be thinking about him every time I catch a whiff of my shampoo at work tomorrow.
I spend the rest of the night in bed with a book and some leftover takeout, still cold from the box.
I assume I won’t be able to sleep with how my mind’s racing, but after a cup of my favorite tea, I’m relaxed enough to fall into a deep slumber.
When I wake, nothing in my room has been disturbed, but there’s a faint smell of leather clinging to the air, so I know Seven visited me last night again.
Remembering his note, I go into the bathroom to retrieve the plug I left on the counter, but when I feel the heft of it in my palm, I can’t bring myself to go through with the request.
I’ll just stick it in my purse or something. If he comes over and sees it gone, he’ll assume I’m wearing it. Everything will be fine.
There's a niggling in the back of my mind, warning me that this plan will never work, but I push those thoughts away. The sight of that massive plug was too disturbing to even think about going through with Seven’s twisted request. I need this to work.
As quickly as I can, I slip the plug into the depths of my purse and get ready for work. I opt for another peanut butter sandwich to keep at my desk so there will be no reason for Mr. Graves to tempt me into lunch, and race out the door.
It takes me just under twenty minutes to walk to the office—a record for me.
I normally wouldn’t move so fast, but the whole way, it felt like someone was following me, watching me.
By the time I plop down at my desk, my calves are burning, and a thin sheen of sweat coats my skin from practically running the whole way here.
All I want to do is head home and jump in the shower, but that won’t be for hours. I have to stay after hours today in order to work on the product information Mr. Graves needs.
I take a peek at Mr. Graves’s door, but it’s closed, and his blinds are drawn. He’s not in, which is strange, because he’s normally here before me.
Shrugging, I open my computer and get to work. Unlike yesterday, I’m able to focus until lunch rolls around—possibly because Mr. Graves still isn’t here to distract me.
I sit and eat my sad sandwich in silence, kind of disappointed that I’m not eating lunch with my boss. He’s great company, and I feel bad about how cold I was to him yesterday. I wish I didn’t have to hold him at a distance—but it’s for the best.
After lunch, I get back to work, going as quickly as I can so I’ll have time to get a head start on the project I’m working on for Mr. Graves tonight. I get lost in my work, tuning out everything else except the numbers on the screen.
I don't realize it’s five until Corey’s voice rings out over my shoulder, startling me so much I nearly fall out of my chair.
“So intense. You know, your face can totally get stuck like that if you’re not careful.”
Stifling my sigh, I swivel my chair to face him. “Thanks for the warning, but I’m kind of busy right now.” I gesture to the half-finished spreadsheet over my shoulder. “Sorry.”
I try to turn back to my computer, but Corey’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Don’t be like that, Grace. You know what they say about people who are all work and no play.”
I quirk a brow. “They get a regular paycheck?”
He scoffs. “No. They’re boring, silly.”
“Oh. My mistake.” Again, I try to turn away, but Corey’s not having it.
“You know, you really missed out last night. Abyss was lit.” He shoots me a wink. “It would have been better if you were there, though.”
I pry his hand off my arm, letting it fall to his side. “I’m glad you and Tricia had a nice time. I really need to get back to work now—”
“Is someone jealous?” His grin widens. “You know, all you have to do is say the word, and I’m yours, Grace.”
My face twists, muscles pinching in shock and disgust. Unfortunately, Corey doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m not jealous. I’m busy. And I don’t have time to talk about this anymore.”
“But, Grace—”
“I believe Miss Kent expressed a desire to be left alone, Mr. Pembrook.” Mr. Graves’s voice flows through the air, brimming with lethal authority. It flows over my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as I helplessly stare up into his dark red eyes.
He’s not looking at me, though. For the first time, his attention is focused on someone other than me—and he looks pissed.
Jaw twitching, Mr. Graves storms up to Corey’s side, gripping his shoulder in a similar way Corey had held mine.
Although from the pinch of Corey’s mouth, I’m assuming Mr. Grave’s death grip is much more painful.
“I think it would be best to follow her wishes,” he says, the words eerily controlled when compared to the rage simmering in his gaze. “Don’t you?”
Corey’s throat bobs as he takes a step back, putting some much-needed space between us. “Yes, of course.” He cuts me a worried glance. “I-I didn’t mean to bother you, Grace. I’m sorry.”
Before I have a chance to respond, Corey scurries away, leaving me alone with a very pissed-off-looking Mr. Graves.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice soft.
He nods, yet I can’t help but notice the muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Of course. Everything is just fine.” His expression changes then, the storm clouds parting to reveal an easy grin and bright eyes. “Well, I should let you get back to work. I’ll be around for a couple of hours in my office, if you need anything.”
He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and my breath freezes in my lungs. My skin prickles with awareness, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my desire or the way Mr. Graves is looking at me—like a hungry wolf watching a helpless little bunny rabbit.
In the next heartbeat, Mr. Graves pulls away, his lips tipping into a sinful smirk. “Keep up the hard work, Grace.”
He turns on his heel, and then he’s gone, leaving me hot, bothered, and all kinds of messed up. I watch his back all the way to his office door, unable to take my gaze off him until he disappears through the doorway—and even then, I stare at the spot he was for some minutes after he’s gone.
Shaking my head, I turn my attention to my computer, determined to focus on my work and keep my mind off how much I want to fuck my boss.
I finish up around 2 a.m. My eyes are burning, my fingertips are sore, and the only thing I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for fourteen hours. Surprisingly, Mr. Graves is still here, though he hasn’t come out of his office for several hours.
Since he’s here, I should probably let him know I’ve finished with the data he needed. Also, it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye.
Strangely nervous, I pack up my things and walk to his office, my heart in my throat as I knock lightly on his door.
“Come in.” His gravelly voice sends pleasurable shivers down my spine.
Swallowing hard, I open the door and step inside. The single dim lamp in the corner of the office casts a red hue across the walls, desk, and floor. I take another step inside, my heart thrumming as I breathe in his masculine scent clinging to the room.
Mr. Graves is hunched over something on his desk, his brow set in a deep frown. “Did you finish?” he asks without looking up.
“I, uh… yes. I just came to say goodbye.”
He looks up then, giving me a heart-stopping grin. “Thank you, Grace. You’re such a good girl.”
I blink hard. “Sorry?”
He turns his attention back to his paperwork. “I said that you’re a good worker. I appreciate your hard work.”
“I see…” I narrow my eyes at his nonchalant expression. I’m sure he said something else. I’d bet money on it. In fact, I’m beginning to think he's been doing it all along—teasing me, taunting me. Well, two can play at that game.
I step up to his desk, adding a little more sway to my hips than I normally would. I press my hips against the edge of his desk, placing a finger down on the top of his paper. “What’s got you frowning like that?”
Mr. Graves looks up at me, his dark lashes framing heated red eyes. “Something far less interesting than you.” The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “I could use your insight, if you have a few minutes.”
His tongue slides over his lower lip, and heat coils between my thighs as I imagine it moving over something else. “I… Of course I do.” I stumble into the large leather armchair on the opposite end of his desk, sitting way up at the very edge so I can see what he’s working on.
With nowhere else to put it, I place my purse on his desk, flinching at the loud clunking noise from the plug sitting at the bottom. Thankfully, Mr. Graves doesn’t comment on it—instead, he slides one of the papers over to me, his eyes shining expectantly.
“The design team dropped these off earlier today. It’s the last thing I have to decide on before I head home. What do you think?”
My face heats as I look down at two clear pictures of vibrators. Fancy vibrators. My mouth opens and closes without a sound, and it feels like the room spikes by at least five degrees. “I, um… this is a hard decision.”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn't comment on my unfortunate wording. “Would seeing them in person help?”
Before I can respond, Mr. Graves reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out two very large, very purple vibrators.
Both have a thick body for penetration and a smaller, curved projection for clitoral stimulation.
The only difference is that one appears to be a traditional vibrating one, whereas the other has suction.
“Well? What do you think?”
I’m certain I’ll combust on the spot if I look at Mr. Graves, so I focus hard on a spot on his desk between the vibrators and me. “I don’t—well, I just think someone else might be better equipped to answer.”
“Why’s that?” he asks, tilting his head.
“Well, I don’t have any experience with… these models…” Sweet lord, help me. “I couldn’t tell you which is better.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Graves nods, thoughtful. “Do you want to try them?”
“I—what?” My gaze shoots up to him in alarm, but Mr. Graves seems unfazed, leaning forward in his chair with a lazy smile.
“You heard what I said, Grace.” His gaze darkens as he reaches across the table, palming the vibrator on the left. “I really need to decide on this. Tonight.”
He gets out of his chair and slowly walks over to me. I shiver in anticipation, my skin heating from our closeness. He reaches down, grabbing my chin and forcing my eyes up to meet his.
“I want you, Grace. I have since the first moment I saw you.” His grip tightens, and heat curls in my lower belly at the hungry look in his eyes. “I’m tired of pretending I can fight this.”
Then he leans down, crashing his lips to mine. And I come undone.