“Checkmate.” It simmered with irritation from him because he found the victory hollow. “You were distracted tonight.”
My pulse mirrored a frantic trader on the floor during a massive selloff. “Yeah, I . . .”
Was I really going to do this? There’d be no turning back.
I said it quickly before I lost my nerve. “I’m ready to play the other game.”
There was no reaction from him, other than his calculating eyes assessing me for the truth. Whatever visual test he’d given me, I must have passed, because he rose from his chair and went to the spot where he’d tucked the dreaded box away.
But once he had it, he didn’t give it to me. He stood with the black box in his hands, the black bow at its front taunting me. “What makes you think you’re ready now?”
“I’m motivated,” I said.
He lifted a curious eyebrow. “Why?”
The question had an agenda. He wanted to know not only what had happened, but how badly I was motivated to see if he could squeeze even more out of me.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need a space that’s my own.”
He scowled. “You have a room here. If Royce is not respecting that, tell me, and I will take care of it.”
Of course he’d think Royce was the problem and not himself, even though he’d been the one waiting for me in my room the night Emily had gone into the hospital.
“I’m not really talking about a physical space,” I said. “I need a place free from rules and obligations, where I’m the one in control and making the decisions.”
He appeared to find the answer satisfying. He set the box on the desk but left his hand on it, his turn not yet complete. “Explain to me the rules, so I know you remember how we’re going to play.”
Oh, Jesus. I swallowed hard. “At ten-thirty I use what’s inside the box. When it’s over, I text you the number.”
His face took on a wicked cast. “The number of what?”
My heart was in my mouth and got in the way of my tongue. “Orgasms.”
If I wasn’t so anxious, I might have appreciated the way he looked when he was satisfied. It was such a rare event.
“Are you allowed orgasms outside of our arrangement?”
“No,” I said.
“And so we’re clear,” he pushed the box to me, “by accepting this, you are entrusting your experience to me and surrendering control.”
It was impossible to catch my breath, but I got the word out. “Yes.”
The box was heavy, weighed down with a million reasons why I shouldn’t have agreed to his deal.
“Excellent.” His low, seductive voice was a fog that enveloped the room. “I look forward to receiving your text this evening.”
I said nothing as I wrapped the box in my arms and fled from his lust-filled blue eyes.
TEN
TEN-THIRTY CAME MUCH TOO FAST. Time seemed to go impossibly slow whenever I was with Macalister, but now I was locked alone in my own room, and the minutes raced by.
As soon as I’d left the library, I’d hurried down the hall and was thankful I didn’t run into anyone else. It felt like I was carrying a bomb and it’d explode if Royce saw me with it. So, I stumbled into my room, shoved the box under my bed, and pretended if it was out of sight it ceased to exist.
But the goddamn clock kept ticking, and soon I’d have to unleash all the evils inside Pandora’s Box.
At ten, I changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, curled up on the couch, and tried to read, but every few sentences my gaze would drift over to the bed. Where would I do it? There? And how exactly did the strange vibrator work?
I only made it ten minutes before I sat on the floor, my back against the side of the bed and the box on my lap, the ribbon undone. My mouth went dry as I read the instructions. Half of the thing—the smaller end—went inside me. The wider, fat end would press against my clit.
Of course, I considered not using it and faking the ordeal, but I was sure he’d know somehow. And it was wrong, but I couldn’t help but be a little curious.
I’d never admit it to Macalister, but I’d never used a vibrator before. Like a fool, I’d thought my parents watched the credit card statements, and I would have been too embarrassed to be caught buying a sex toy with their money. Plus, I’d been a virgin and able to get myself off just fine with my own hand, so I never had much drive to seek out additional help.
When the time drew near, I was strangely numb to all emotion—other than anxiety—like I’d been with the initiation. It seemed weird to have the lights on, so I turned them off, and only moonlight lit my room as I climbed onto my king-sized bed. I pulled off my clothes, wiggled under the covers, and sucked in a deep breath.