Chapter 39
GRACE
Ishould be on top of the world.
My manuscript is more than halfway done. Fifty thousand words in less than two months, a pace I've never achieved. The story flows like I'm channeling something beyond myself, each scene sharper than the last.
And my sex life is unreal. Asher's pleased with me. He tells me so every night when he comes home and asks how my day went. The praise in his voice does things to me, makes me want to write more just to hear that approval again.
But I’m stuck.
Something needs to happen in this story, something beyond sex. The characters need to grow and change, but the only ideas I channel into the book are more kinky sex scenes. And maybe that’s because all that’s happening in my relationship is sex.
There are moments, like when he’s warming dinner and asking about my day, or when we do mundane things like watch TV, that I think, maybe this is something more. And then, I squash that thought before it can grow legs, before I can dream up a future for Asher and I that goes beyond December.
This is temporary.
Six more months and this all goes away.
That’s all this is.
I close my laptop, pressing my palms against my eyes. The pearls at my throat feel heavier today. My collar has an expiration date stamped on it, like everything else in this arrangement.
You're not really his wife.
This isn't really your home.
Those women at the Hamptons were right. You don't belong here.
My chest tightens. I stand, pacing to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan sprawls below, glittering and vast and utterly indifferent to the small-town girl pretending she fits into this world.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over Kacey's contact.
I could call her. Tell her I need coffee, need to talk, need something to ground me.
But what would I say? That I'm falling apart because my fake marriage feels too real?
That I'm terrified of what happens when the contract ends and I have to walk away from the man who's made me feel more seen than anyone ever has?
The phone goes back into my pocket.
I move to the couch, curling into the corner with a throw pillow clutched against my chest.
You signed the contract.
You agreed to this.
You knew what it was.
But knowing and feeling are different things.
And right now, I feel small. Like I'm playing a role I was never qualified for, and no matter how much I love it, it's still going to be ripped from my fingertips.
And there's nothing I can do to stop it.
A ding in the penthouse, accompanied by the sound of the elevator doors sliding open, precedes footsteps echoing across the floors as Asher comes into the living room.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. I’ve lost track of time, and I’m not waiting at the door like I’ve agreed to.
He pauses in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand while his eyes sweep over me.
Shrugging off his suit jacket, he drapes it over the chair before coming closer, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"How was your day, Sugar?" he asks, settling next to me on the couch. He’s ignoring the fact that I didn’t follow his orders, but I know he hasn’t forgotten.
"Okay." I force a smile.
Asher doesn't buy it. He studies me for a moment. "How many words?"
When I don't answer, he reaches for me, his thumb tracing my collarbone, right over the pearls. "Grace," he says sternly.
Heat crawls up my neck. We've had this routine for weeks. I write two thousand words by the time he gets home, and then we have amazing sex as my "reward." I've never not hit my writing goal since we've started.
"I wrote some..." I lie, the words tasting like ash.
He tilts my chin up, gray eyes locking onto mine. "How many?"
My throat tightens. "Two hundred."
His jaw tics. "Grace."
"I know." I pull away, staring at my closed computer as if it's at fault. "It was a bad day."
“And why weren’t you waiting in the foyer?” he asks.
My head drops. “It was a bad day,” I repeat.
“Mm. I’ll give you a choice. Would you like your punishment before or after dinner?”
I swallow as dread twists in my gut, mixing with that low hum of anticipation. I've been waiting for the first time he'd punish me, but up until now, he's never had a reason to.
"It's just one day…" I groan out.
I'd be lying if I said there wasn't something stirring inside me. A part of me that's curious about what an Asher punishment would feel like. And right now, I could use the distraction that being out of my head brings.
“Now,” I answer breathily.
For the first time in our relationship, Asher brings me upstairs to his room. Sex between us has happened everywhere in this penthouse but this room. I take in the dark fabrics, the large king-sized bed, the lack of personal details as Asher begins pulling my clothing from my body.
“On your knees,” he orders, and I drop down.
There's something completely freeing about being naked and on my knees. If you would’ve told me a year ago that I’d feel this way, I would’ve laughed in your face.
But now, my mind slows, my breathing even as Asher ties soft silk around my wrists, binding them in place behind my back.
There's a juxtaposition in how gentle he is when restraining me and how harsh he is when he uses me.
It's also in the way he stands before me, still fully clothed while I kneel completely naked.
But I think he knows that it only serves to make me needier for him.
If he dipped a finger between my thighs, he'd find me dripping.
But he also knows that. Asher knows how to work my body without even touching me. With his words, his movements, everything he does has a reason, and right now, his reason is to bring me immense pleasure in the most degrading way.
He trails his finger over my collarbone, up to the strand of pearls that's locked around my throat. The collar that signifies I belong to him, even more than the ring that’s on my finger.
My core clenches. I'm dying for his hand to travel lower.
But that won’t happen.
This is part of his game, a punishment for not following orders.
I could stop this.
One word and Asher would release me. He’d probably wrap me in a blanket, pick me up, and carry me to bed.
But I won’t say the word.
Because as much as he’s enjoying this, I am too.
"I have a challenge for you tonight, sugar." My pet name sends butterflies swarming through my stomach, and the idea of a challenge gives me something to focus on, some way to please him. "If you do a good job, I'll reward you."
His task hacks my brain, encouraging the parts of me that desire to be perfect. He gives me the opportunity to please him, and when I do, I'm rewarded with the warmth of my Dom.
Asher steps away, and when he comes back into view, he's holding a book. I can tell from the colored hardcover and the painted edges that it's one of my Bridgerton books, the first one, The Duke and I. I nearly gasp, but I keep my lips sealed, eyes on Asher as I wait for his instruction.
There’s a devilish smile spread across his lips as he steps toward me. He places the book on top of my head as if it’s a hat. It’s balancing there delicately, and I know one wrong move would make it topple to the ground.
“Think you can hold that, sugar?”
“No,” I answer honestly. As soon as he touches me, the book will fall.
The answer makes him laugh, and he squats down so his face is level with mine. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he brings his palm to my chin, stroking his fingers against my cheek. “But you’ll do it for me anyway, won’t you? Because you’re such a good girl.”
I practically mewl, desperate for his praise and attention. His words send a bolt of electricity down my spine, excitement circuiting through me and landing between my thighs.
I gulp, then whisper, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” One eyebrow tics up with the question.
“Yes, Sir.” There’s always a gleam in his eye when I use the honorific, something I’ve grown to enjoy.
“Open your mouth,” he demands, and I do, eagerly parting my lips and flattening my tongue.
Asher takes his time lowering the zipper on his black slacks. He frees his cock without even fully undressing and brings the tip to my lower lip.
I’m longing to taste him, and my tongue darts out, caressing the underside of his tip.
“Patience, baby. Can’t let that book fall, remember.”
I try my best to steady my breathing and keep my body still as he slowly moves his cock into my mouth, relishing the feeling as he presses all the way to the back of my throat.
The book doesn’t fall, even though I know it won’t be long until it does.
As he glides his cock back down my throat, using my mouth and rewarding me with a rumbling groan, I do my best to stay motionless. With one deeper thrust, I can’t help but gag, and the motion makes the book fall. Asher laughs when I pout up at him.
“Uh oh,” he patronizes. “I guess I’ll have to punish you now.”
I thought this was my punishment, but I can’t deny that the idea of further punishment makes me wetter. The longer he waits, the more I want him inside me, fucking me until I cry and beg to come. And Asher will only let me once I’m begging and writhing, once I can’t take it any longer.
Knowing that only makes me want it all so much more.
I try to temper my excitement. Try not to let him show how much he affects me, because pretty soon, this will all be over.
I have to remind myself constantly that this is just an arrangement. A year of a fake relationship in exchange for more money than I’ve ever seen. And the submissive part? That’s just a bonus.
Eventually, Asher will be announced as the next CEO of Sanctum International.
And I’ll just be the woman he was once married to.
Another name on his list of submissives.