Chapter 47 Sloane
Sloane
Two weeks had gone by, two whole-ass weeks, and Darren still wouldn’t let me see Katherine. Though I could always see Ella any time I wanted.
He was testing me, and I knew that. My ability to act like the good and obedient little housewife he suddenly desired was on trial every second of every day. And I’d been nothing but a perfect fucking angel just to spite him.
I understood the shift, and it was my own damn fault. But goddamn, even I was bored with our interactions, annoyed with myself, and hating the sweet and innocent personality I had adopted as I pretended everything was fine.
Every day was a “yes, Darren” day, and it made things so dull when I couldn’t antagonize him just to take a swing at his face anymore. But that certainly didn’t stop Darren from taking a swing at me.
Catching on to my malicious compliance, he slapped me across the face, telling me to stop being annoying even though I was just doing what he said he wanted.
It was the only indication I had received that told me I had met my mark.
So I switched my personality from sweet and annoying to silent and boring.
After that, he acted like nothing was amiss, and I guess, technically, it wasn’t. He remained surprisingly less antagonizing, actually avoiding intentionally taunting me so I wouldn’t be tempted to argue with him.
There was no more playfulness to him, it was all business now. He laid out his orders for the day as if he were announcing the weather and expected full compliance without issue. And that was exactly what I gave him—boring, robotic compliance.
I wanted to bait him so badly, to remind him when he was being stupid and pig-headed. My nature to raise hell was a constant urge I had to beat back like a rabid dog, but he just wasn’t worth testing anymore, not with his threat of harming others hanging over my head.
In fact, I made sure to say as little as I possibly could to him, speaking only when prompted.
But if I was being honest, there wasn’t much time for conversation when he preferred to spend it fucking me as often as he could in every which way possible.
What was worse, he’d removed all of my thongs and replaced them with these ridiculous special G-strings made of nothing but a thin waistband and a string of pearl beads down the center.
I knew immediately what they were for, but I just didn’t understand why the sudden change. But when Darren noticed me frowning in the mirror, he informed me I was expected to wear them all day, every day, with no exceptions.
I could feel the annoyance heating my face, but instead of lashing out, I decided to test my new strict boundaries by asking a seemingly innocent question.
But the cold dark fury I received in response had me retreating a few steps back to avoid being swallowed up by his approaching towering frame. I didn’t push it any further by objecting to his answer that I was, in fact, still expected to wear them even when I was training or working out.
I had to suppress the urge to ask why, but it would be a fruitless pursuit that wasn’t worth testing the consequences for. So I gave Darren the submissive little nod he wanted and finally released the breath I had been holding when he left the room.
Begrudgingly, I slipped them on, dreading the frustration I knew they were going to cause me as the string of pearls slid between my legs to press gently against my clit.
With even the slightest of movements, the pearls would massage all the right places, keeping me in a constant state of soaking-wet need.
I already had enough reasons to kill Darren, but this was now in the top five.
The never-ending sexual frustration left me in an irritated mood, the perpetual mess between my legs requiring more discretion than I liked in order to avoid leaving wet stains anywhere I sat.
There was barely any relief throughout the day.
Even after Darren fucked me, he still expected me to keep them on after. At least he hadn’t forbidden me from orgasming on my own if I needed it. He told me I could make myself come as often as I wanted, but the pearls would remain in place.
From then on, every time Darren saw me, even if it was just a passing glance in the hallway, I’d find myself bent over something nearby. He was suddenly a fucking machine, and I didn’t understand why he was so hell-bent on making sure I couldn’t walk straight by the end of every day.
If I wasn’t so sexually frustrated and horny all the time, I would have avoided him like the plague just to give my poor pussy a damn break.
One day, I had tried to cheat for a few hours by pushing the pearls between the crease of my leg, just for a few moments of relief. When I realized Darren was looking for me, I quickly slipped them back into place, but there wasn’t enough time for the desired effects to liquefy before he found me.
When he saw that I wasn’t soaking like he expected, he slammed into me dry as punishment.
Thankfully, it only took a couple of strokes for my body to get with the program, but those first thirty seconds were brutal.
It seemed those pearls served an important purpose I finally understood—to protect me from Darren’s new unhinged impatience.
Toward the end of that second week, he called me into his office, making my legs immediately tremble and my stomach clench. He had already fucked me four times today, and it was barely 3:00 p.m.
With Camaro at my side, I reluctantly made my way down the hall to find the doors wide open and Darren sitting at his desk. I approached tentatively, hoping he had another objective on his mind while my clit, still swollen from the pearls, had different hopes.
“Come here, Jaden,” he ordered, his fingers waving me closer, a sultry look on his face.
I physically stumbled to a stop. “Darren, please, I swear to God, if you fuck me one more time today, my vagina is going to shrivel up and die.”
Fuck, I hope that wasn’t an overstep.
My stomach flipped at the curse, but I noticed Darren didn’t seem to punish me if I was referring to the act rather than using the word for verbal decoration.
A dark smirk formed its way into the corner of his mouth. “Fine. I have someone I want you to meet anyway.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging, only to briefly pause and cocked a brow. “Who?” I asked.
“Your new bodyguard.”
I stilled for a moment, my nerves catching up with his words. Slow, heavy footsteps thumped against the hardwood of the floor, the sound bringing my attention to the person I hadn’t realized was standing behind me in the corner of the room the entire time.
Turning around, I widened my eyes as I watched my new bodyguard approach me, surprised at Darren’s choice. Standing before me was a very tall, well-built of a woman.
She had the typical haircut of a man—longer at the top with a high fade at the sides. But the fresh buzz cut revealed a sweet ass black and red oriental-looking dragon that was tattooed into the side of her skull.
The tattoo was so fucking cool that it nearly distracted me from all the other scars spread across her hardened, but still surprisingly, pretty face. She had to be at least six feet two, maybe six feet three, and built like a fucking tank. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I was in complete awe.
“Wow,” I whispered, just gawking at her like a dumbstruck idiot. My clit suddenly pulsed as it brushed against the pearls.
Am I in love?
“Jaden.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
Darren’s gaze hardened with perplexed annoyance. “This is Sloane. She’s your newest Camaro,” he informed me.
Turning my wide stare back to the incredible , I gave her a pitiful little wave. “Hi,” I breathed, sounding like a dazed child.
Her eyes warmed as the corner of her lips lifted. “Hello, Mrs. Davis. It is nice to finally meet you,” she said politely, her accent noticeably Russian. It wasn’t heavy, but it was definitely obvious.
Camaro walked closer to Sloane, her head tilting left and right as her nose sniffed the air around her. She must have been satisfied because she turned her nose down and moved back to stand beside me with a yawn.
“Only one?” I asked Darren, surprised he didn’t replace both Clive and Owen.
“For now,” he answered seriously. “That will change by a lot if or when I decide you can leave the house again.” I nodded solemnly, hating the way he phrased that.
But he continued, tilting his head with an odd sense of pride at the giant of a woman behind me.
“Sloane surpassed all the trials far better than any of the other candidates. She will make an excellent addition to your security team.”
I raised my brow. “She outperformed the men? Imagine that,” I commented as I turned my gaze back to Sloane, catching the flash of humor in her eyes.
It was a subtle taunt, but I couldn’t help but point it out. Even Darren had to admit that women could serve as more than just a profitable wet pocket for men to use.
“You know I prefer intelligence to brawn any day,” he responded darkly.
I nodded in acknowledgment and pursed my lips for a moment. Muscle wasn’t everything in this world.
“Is she aware of what happened to my last bodyguards?”
Darren’s gaze narrowed. “She’s well aware of their failures, yes,” he replied, his voice laced with warning.
I tried not to glare back at the insult, instead turning my gaze back to Sloane to find her standing like a proud soldier, like she was ready to lay down everything on the line.
But given the risks, why would anyone even want the job in the first place? If the ultimate end was to die for me, what benefit was there for them? What was Darren using to secure the role? Were these people just suicidal or something?
“What made you want the job?” I asked Sloane directly.
She didn’t even look at Darren before answering. “It’s a great honor to protect you from harm,” she answered confidently. “For both me and my family.”