Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(56)

I processed their words, the way they both implied that she was somehow working for me. It was a baffling development, but I didn’t comment.

“I’m making you vegetable omelets with feta, as you requested, Mr. Cavendish. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“We will be in the dining room, Marion. Just serve the omelets when they’re ready. That will be all.”

James held the door open for me, and I moved into his grand dining room. He pulled a chair out for me and I sat. He took the seat next to me at the head of the table. He stapled his elegant fingers together on top of the heavy table.

I watched those hands as I spoke. “What happened to the other housekeeper?”

“I had to let her go. She proved to be…unprofessional. She seemed to think that, because she had worked for me for eight years, she could interfere in my personal life. I found some of her actions and words unacceptable.”

I mulled that over for awhile, still watching his hands. Even those hands were like eye candy.

“She seemed like an unpleasant woman, though she and Jules appeared to be close,” I said absently.

“She was pleasant enough to her.”

I watched his hands squeeze together very tightly as I spoke. “Yes. And that was the problem. She let her into my home against my wishes, and then she made the fatal mistake of insulting you, Love. I fired her that night.”

I took a deep breath, savoring that light endearment. I was starved for his affection.

Marion served us quickly, withdrawing with a smile. We ate the delicious omelets in silence. James finished before me. I could feel him watching me as I took a drink of water. He stood the instant I swallowed my last bite. He led me by the collar through the multi-floored penthouse, heading to his bedroom without further ado.

I was more than happy to go. I had been living in a world of tortured anticipation since he had pinched on my nipple clamps, just waiting for him to get me alone like this.

He took me into his colossal bedroom closet.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded, shrugging out of his shirt, his back to me. I obeyed without a word, taking off everything but my jewelry. He took off my watch and cuff, putting them on a little tray on the huge dresser in his closet. My eyes had moved to his feet as soon as I was undressed. He was barefoot now, wearing only his slacks. I thought about how even his tan feet were sexy.

He threaded a silver chain through the hoop at my collar. It attached to each of my nipple clamps, raising my ni**les.

I winced, rubbing my thighs together restlessly.

He fastened a sheer black half-slip over my hips. I had worn it just once before, in his playground. It covered nothing, but the sight of it turned me on. It made my body look sinful, with just that touch of black. I bit my lip, arching my back a little.

To say I was turned on was a vast understatement. I was so far past that point. I raised my gaze just enough to see the hard ridge pressing against the front of his navy slacks. I moaned at the sight of it.

“Don’t try to tempt me, Bianca. You’ll be punished for that. Is that what you were trying to do?” I shook my head, out of my mind with wanting him.

He led me by my collar to the elevator that went directly from his bedroom and into his private playground. I mewled at the cruel pressure that pulled at my ni**les. He slapped my ass hard as we descended to his 4th floor. For making the noise, I thought.

He pulled a length of black cloth from his pocket, stepping behind me in the elevator. It was a blindfold, I realized, as he covered my eyes, tying it firmly in the back. The material was silky and luxuriously soft.

The elevator stopped, and he pulled me forward by the collar. Our footsteps seemed loud in the hallway, but the padded flooring once we got into the playroom made a softer, muffled sound. He led me only a few steps into the room before stopping.

“Get on your knees,” he told me.

I obeyed, raising my chin. I heard him move away.

I heard him opening drawers across the room. Some sort of machinery whirred softly, the sound of chains clinking together following immediately, and I had no idea what would make such a noise.

I sat back on my heels, my hands flat on my thighs. I began to rub them slowly over my own skin as I waited, anticipation and fear a palpable feeling along my skin. As my hands rubbed, I shifted my arms, moving them against my br**sts, pushing the round globes closer together to rub against each other, craving contact, even if it was just the contact of my own skin on itself.

“Stop that,” James snapped from across the room. “If you pleasure yourself, then that’s all you’ll do.

All you’ll get is a dildo to relieve your ache, if you keep that up. Which would you prefer? My cock, or a dildo?”

I gasped, and stopped moving, though I wanted more than ever to move after hearing his words. “Your cock. Oh god, I want your cock, James.”

“It’s Mr. Cavendish, or Master, in here, Bianca.”

“Yes, Mr. Cavendish.”

There was a noise, like chains clinking together, and then he was pulling me to my feet by the collar. I

gasped at the rough pull on my ni**les. They seemed to be getting more sensitive, not less so, the longer

those mean clamps stayed attached.

He pulled me across the padded floor. He pulled me maybe twenty feet before stopping abruptly.

Finally he touched my skin, pulling my wrists together in front of me. The action rubbed my br**sts together, and my back arched. He placed something soft around my wrists, closing it with a loud metal clink on first one wrist and then the other. Padded handcuffs, I thought.