Consequences(53)

Napping soundly on his large bed, late in the afternoon, Tony’s voice brought Claire back to reality. “We did it! The deal is complete.”

She pushed the sleepy fog from her mind and tried to concentrate on his words. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”


“I believe a celebration is in order!” Smiling at his enthusiasm, Claire began to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” His intimidating tone narrowed her focus.

She watched his accomplished expression quickly morph into a new menacing gaze. Claire felt a chill, despite the warmth of the blankets. “I thought you wanted to celebrate. I need to dress.”

“Yes, you do, but first, you need to undress.” Tony removed his Brooks Brothers suit jacket and silk tie, allowing them fall to the floor, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Our celebration will begin here.”

Claire hadn’t expected him to return this early and was napping in shorts and a camisole. Her instincts told her the vigor and energy acquired from his successful business dealings would be unleashed here and now. Thankful she’d napped, she obeyed and removed her shorts and top.

Apprehensively, Claire watched as Tony approached. His clothes created a trail from the doorway to near the foot of the bed. Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she beheld his completely nude body. She’d been groggy when he first entered the room, but something about his demeanor alarmed her, like the warning rumble of thunder indicating an imminent storm. Now, fully awake, her body quivered. Coming toward her, she beheld his wide chest, defined, and covered with dark hair, his trim abdomen, his narrow hips and waist. There was a light trail of hair, leading to where…Claire could plainly see he was ready to celebrate. Everything about his presence said power.

She steadied herself as Tony pushed his body against her petite form. Moving fast and rough, he pulled her into his embrace. Forcibly engaging her lips, she tasted coffee and attempted to slow his actions—trying to control his explosion of energy. It was a matter of momentum. Claire was helpless to slow this force of nature. Her only defense was to move with it. Anticipating his actions, she expected to be lifted onto the bed. Instead, he turned and pushed her to the bed. Her cheek felt the softness of the satin covered, down comforter. His plans were unexpected, and he hadn’t prepared her. She stifled the urge to cry out in pain, as her fingers gripped the cover, forming fists. Dominating, Anthony Rawlings showed no meekness, only total control.

His voracious need was only momentarily satisfied; he instructed Claire to kneel, held her head and dictated her movements until he was ready again. Insatiable, the afternoon went on and on. He took his time. His authoritative tone resumed, as did instructions and directions. Eventually, he led her to the shower. They needed to get ready to go out. The soap, the multiple shower heads—he continued.

Finally, gratified—Tony took shampoo and began to wash Claire’s hair. After ravaging her body, he reverently caressed her chestnut trusses. Suddenly, his movements were tender and gentle. Outwardly, she responded appropriately, but inwardly she burned with loathing. One day she wanted to help him, to be with him, the next he treated her like a whore. It made her furious and her heart ache, but she stopped the tears. He’d already taken too much. She wasn’t giving him those too.

That night, dressed in a sleek black strapless dress with black heels, Claire was escorted by Tony to Daniel, a four-star restaurant in Manhattan, located on the Upper East Side. It was known for its elegant ambiance and delicious French cuisine. En route, Tony reminded Claire about his rules: do as she was told, keep up appearances, and the severity of punishment for public failure. Perhaps he sensed her unspoken revulsion and her overwhelming desire to flee, and he felt the need to reiterate the consequences if she tried.