Temptation - Leigh Lennon Page 0,36

apologies, Kitten, but with you, I seem to do all things that are new to me. I’m sorry.

CW

This man must really like the idea of me taking baths. When I make my way to my bathroom, it’s decked out with more than just bath salts. Calla lilies take up almost every bit of counter space of my room. Tea lights set the ambiance, and a new robe with my name hangs on the towel holder. I’m in deep concentration and don’t hear the taps of the door, or for permission to enter my relaxed domain. “Kitten? You okay in there?” His voice is elevated.

“Chadwick, Sir?” I’ve not received a spanking, and I’m trying to keep it that way. My fear is with one touch of his hand on my bare ass, I’ll surrender to all his depravity. And this has now turned into my own fantasy. I’d be screwed. It’s the issue, the fact I want him to screw me, to drill me, and to claim me. Shit, but my hardheaded nature will win out. It needs to. This money is my ticket to a new life—one that I’ll covet once my head is clear of all the crazy shit he has me craving.

“Kitten, can I come in?” His question is sincere, like his note. “You must be covered with bubbles. I’d like to come in for a second.”

My mind is screaming, Retreat, abort, mission over. But the cunt of a bitch betraying me lets my mouth form the words. “Sure, come on in, Sir.”

He sits down on the edge of the tub and brings my hand to his mouth. “I wish those bubbles would disappear.” His words have a commanding tone to them, ordering the bubbles to dissipate, and I’m surprised they don’t obey.

“Good try. Just because most people listen to you doesn’t mean the bubbles covering the finer areas of my body will,” I tease, and the hint of his eyes are greedy. I wait for him to step over the line, but he doesn’t. I sometimes wonder what I really want from him.

“Kitten, I’m not sure how to proceed with you.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, in ten days, it’ll be over, and we can go our separate ways,” I add, not reaching his eyes with my own.

“Is that what you want, Kitten?” he asks.

“After you treated me like a bag of shit yesterday? Yes, Sir.”

He nods, standing up to retreat, and it’s the first time hurt can be seen in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll let you be until breakfast.”

His voice is not the commanding tone I’m used to. “Hey, Chadwick?” He doesn’t stop me or reprimand me for not addressing him as Sir.

“Yeah, Kitten?” he asks.

“Thanks for this.”

He turns around, and this time, his eyes roam over my whole body. “Sure thing, Kitten.”

And he’s gone. At this moment, something has changed, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Breakfast on the terrace is beautiful. When I ask about the raid yesterday, his chuckle and the bob of his Adam’s apple have me clenching my legs together. “Our lawyer has a woody for the district attorney who wants to close us down. It’s quite funny. Greer is used to getting his way, but fuck, I think he’s screwed in this scenario, and not the way he wants to be.”

It’s hard to explain how this man makes me feel at ease one moment—as is the case now—yet can push me to be a fire-breathing dragon in the next. “Kitten?” he asks. His tone is smooth but has me opening my eyes, trying to tell my body it’s not time to come out.

“Yes?”

“When do you think you’ll give in to this? Into us?” I’ve never heard the vulnerability, the shakiness in his voice as I do now. Oh, if he only knew what I wanted from him in the here and now. There’s no future with him. He’s already told me that’s what he does; he moves on with a new sub. My dream of a family has always been drilled into me as a young girl when my dad took me to the liquor store. I guess he was decent enough not to leave me at home by myself at the age of six. But I’d see happy couples with their children, holding their hands, laughing and smiling with them.

“Chadwick?” I question, and he doesn’t correct me for the second time today with not using the title of Sir. “You can’t give me what I want, and I can’t give