Chapter Nineteen

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After eating, light conversation engulfed the table, all except me. I was content simply gazing off and studying the people of the restaurant. The hostess with blonde hair rolled her eyes after customers stopped her and practically asked her to do their servers job; fill drinks, bring out their food, take back any mistakes, take their plates, etc. A waiter who served the tables beside us got flustered easy, and never walked slowly. He speed walked, rushing with whatever he needed to do. The two bussers looked like close friends or partners, as they were so in sink and giggled every other second. Our waiter was constantly moving. I don't think I saw him stop once unless it was to refill drinks or deliver food. He wasn't personable, as he didn't even have time to make meaningless small talk, but that didn't seem like his fault. The restaurant was busy, I understood that, and that wouldn't interfere with his tip.

"Miss Holland?"

Snapping my head up, I looked at Mallory wide eyed, not sure as to why she was speaking to me. "Yes Mis-- Misses Morgan?"

The older guy beside Mallory chuckled boisterously. "Mallory dear, that's priceless! Where on earth did she learn that trick from?"

A fake smile lined the older woman's lips. "Blame it on her propensity for being overly polite."

I rolled my eyes at the old man and his sense of humor. Why was that funny? I was addressing Mallory properly, as her intern, nothing more, and saving my rear end by not calling her by a title. And I don't preform tricks, I'm not a dog.

"You must tell me where you found her; I need an assistant like that precious girl."

"Oh, she was difficult to find Andrew," Mallory glanced at me with a smirk. "I'm not sure there's anyone else quite like her."

My eyebrow twitched up at Mallory, surprised by her response. She didn't usually compliment me, and receiving that type of praise was unusual, even if it wasn't an outright gesture.

They continued to chat, and I removed myself from the conversation, content with being oblivious. That was, until the checks came. I watched the waiter set each booklet on the pristine table cloth, a few by the gatherers, one between Mallory and Ted, and one beside me. Reaching for my check, I was intercepted by Mallory's prying hand, sweeping my check away.

I bowed my head and leaned towards the woman, my voice shy of a whisper, "I need my check, Miss."

"I'm paying, dear."

Her voice was laced with smugness. I wanted to scream. It took me a year and a half to even let Kalob buy dinner for me. It wasn't because I was some new age feminist that said "No man will buy my dinner!". It was because my dad had always taught me how to pull my own weight, to not be reliant upon anybody for anything in basic life. I never let Kalob pay out of pride, and I sure as hell wasn't going to submit to Mallory paying. She already owned me; I wasn't giving her the satisfaction of humiliating me financially in front of these political big-shots.

"Miss," I insisted, "I can handle it, please-"

"Esme, I'm paying. That's the end of this discussion." Her words were straight lines and edges, cutting to the point, but infuriating me none the less.

"May I at least leave the tip?"

The waiter came and collected the checks; Mallory thanked him for serving us. "Too late, my dear, the tip's already on my card. Perhaps next time, now gather your things and head to the SUV. We must get back to the hotel."

I marched out of the restaurant in a huff, after exchanging pleasantries with the invited guests and Ted, watching them depart for yet another conference. I was glad I wasn't being forced to sit in another hour long "Ted talk" (pun intended), but the other shoe dropped. If I wasn't there, I couldn't ignore Mallory, and I would be victim to whatever she planned on back in the hotel.

Breathe, just breathe.

It took a hot second to regain some sliver of composure, my heart felt as if it was going to beat out of my chest in a mixture of nervousness and anger. I wasn't upset with Mallory, not anymore, but with myself. I signed the contract. I took her money. She gave me plenty of chances to walk away and pretend this never happened, but I didn't listen. Instead, I gave myself to her.

The anger subsided, but my anxiety did not.

Leaning against the passenger door of the SUV, I tried to practice deep breathing exercises; slow inhales and exhales, inhaling for five, hold for five, and exhale on five, just to name a few. None of them worked. I felt more agitated, more anxious, unsure of my fate, which rested in sadistic hands.

My eyes darted to the restaurant doors to see Mallory and Ted, alerted by her intoxicating laughter. I watched, blood boiling, as she caressed his chest with her hand, stretching upwards to kiss him with a smile on her sinful lips.

I shouldn't be jealous, but hell, I was. Mallory never kissed me. I kissed her, once and today, but she didn't initiate. That meant that she didn't want to kiss me. Was I not kissable? Not good enough for her? Did she think she'd get herpes from me?

It didn't seem like a big deal: not kissing in whatever kind of relationship this was, but I needed it. Kissing is romantic, sensual, and even hot as hell. It was bonding. I feel more connected with someone I'm involved with when we kiss.

So yeah, I'm jealous.

They departed slowly, Ted calling out to Mallory before he got into his vehicle, and Mallory waiting until he peeled out to even acknowledge that we were leaving. She threw a smug glance at me, blue eyes blazing with seduction, before unlocking the SUV and getting in.

I suppressed an eye roll and got it, quick to buckle my seatbelt and pull out my phone. I needed a distraction, and stat.

I miss you.

The response was almost instant.

I miss you too, love. Call me?

Glancing over at a seemingly focused Mallory, I dialed Kalob's number and waited.

"Hey babe."

"Hi."

"What're you doing today? Any exciting plans?"

Mallory coughed, overly exaggerating it for whatever sick pleasure she got from it.

"Not much," I side-eyed the dark haired woman. "We're just leaving lunch. Honestly, I just want to grab a bottle of scotch, take a bath, and work on my term paper. Nothing extravagant."

"I know what you mean. I have to go back to work in two hours; picked up Jeff's shift today. I figured since you weren't home.."

"Yeah," I nodded, "that's fine. You can do whatever you want."

Mallory scoffed. "Just like you do."

This time, I let my eyes roll a couple of times. "I'll text you tonight, okay?"

"Okay, I love you."

"You too, bye."

I hung up quickly, not waiting to hear him respond. Why did Mallory feel the need to butt in? She wasn't my girlfriend. She needed to start keeping her mouth shut, or at least wait until I got off the phone.

We rode silently back to the hotel, making a quick stop to the nearest grocery store for a bottle of scotch of Mallory's choice. In the same manner, we rode the elevator and entered the hotel. I ignored her completely, going to the bathroom without grabbing clothes.

Filling the bathtub with borderline, scolding water and the pink colored bubble liquid provided by the hotel. I stripped, leaving my clothes on the sink, and sunk into the water, leaving the tops of my knees exposed. My head rolled back, every muscle in my body relaxing under the warm water.

The water caressed my skin, dancing over my stomach and thighs. I crinkled my toes, swishing water between them. It felt nice, to relax. This was what I needed.

While my body soothed itself in the water, but my head didn't get the memo. I was worried about Kalob, conflicted between him and Mallory. I love Kalob, I did and I do. He was my first real love, asides from my family. He was my first kiss (that wasn't behind the playground slides), my first lover, the first person I imagined settling down and having a family with. I wanted kids with him, a two-story home, horses, sheep and chickens. I wanted to wake up every morning, wrapped in his arms, woken up by the pitter patter of our children's feet on the floors. I dreamed of family dinners every week night, date nights on Saturday while the kids are at my parents, and Sunday activities with the kids until their bedtime.

With Mallory, I wasn't sure what I wanted, it felt complicated. There was a slight need in my gut, a darker desire in my stomach, that called out for her; demanded her presence. Hell, I wanted her to screw me like she had been. I wanted my endorphins to rush and boil as they had when she tied my chest. I wanted her to scorch my body with searing touches and soothe the pain with delicate caresses. I wanted passion--raw, unadulterated pleasure and pain. I yearned for her to soothe every patch of skin burned by the strike of her palms. I wanted "good girl", "well done", praises upon praises.

My stomach flipped. I lusted after Mallory, craved her darker pleasures, but I loved, genuinely loved Kalob. This was confusing. It felt like Mal was my dirty mistress--pun intended, while Kalob was my devoted husband, none the wiser to my escapades with said dark haired beauty.

I sunk lower into the bathtub.

My ears perked upon the bathroom door opening.

I sunk even farther, to the point where my nose was skimming the bubbles.

She didn't say anything. I refused to open my eyes, feigning ignorance and complete relaxation.

Soon, the water shifted. Soft toes caressed my calf. Something was tossed onto the edge of the tub, close to the single white candle I hadn't thought of lighting.

I flinched slightly, forcing my eyes shut tighter.

Mallory's chuckle filled the silence, as the water moved around me once again.

Her hands moved up my legs, to my hips, and down towards the floor of the tub, every inch of my skin shivering with delight. Her body slid up mine, breasts and nipples gliding over my stomach, and then my own. I felt two fingers find themselves underneath my chin, forcing the lower half of my face above water.

"Open your eyes, Miss Holland."

Reluctantly, I obeyed. Mallory was positioned between my legs on her hands and knees. Her hair was down, the ends soaked with water. I could hardly see her breasts, as they were covered with bubbles. A sultry smirk lined her lips, a devious gleam in her eyes. I was soaked instantly.

A strangled noise erupted in my throat.

Mallory laughed with her teeth, predatory and absolutely sinful. "I'm ready for my repayment. Sit up, dear."

I moved, positioning myself as requested, until my nose was practically grazing her own. I could feel her warm breath against my skin, minty and refreshing.

Her tongue darted out of her mouth, flicking my upper lip, before she leaned back on her calves. I watched her hand reach towards the edge of the tub, grabbing one of two sets of rope.

My body shivered once again, dread and endorphins flooding my mind at the possibilities. I just hoped that I didn't cry like I had the first time, and that she would go easy on me.

Mallory pulled me forward, forcing my head to her shoulder as she slipped a strand of the rope behind my back.

My breath hitched. "Are you doing the same thing you did last time?" I questioned, trying to calm my nerves.

She replied with a soft hum, wrapping the rope around me effortlessly. I was pressed further into her as she tied the knot, her delicate fingers then caressing my back.

"Lean back and present your ankles to me." Her voice was barely a whisper.

I almost snorted at the way she said that, but I listened anyways, closing my legs and lifting my feet out of the water. It was uncomfortable until Mallory pushed them together and forced my knees to my chest.

"Don't move."

She left them hanging in the air, grabbing the second bundle of rope and unraveling it. She split it in half and looped it around my ankles, bringing the ends through the hole.

"Lark's Head," she stated simply, continuing to wrap the rope around my ankles, one piece going clockwise and the other going counterclockwise.

After four total wraps around my ankles, she tied the ends together. She began to make more knots, looping them in and out of each other. I strained my neck to see, but my knees and what was left from the bubbles were in the way.

"What're you making?"

Mallory finished and pushed my heels up. "It's a flower."

I saw the way the knots acted as petals, and acknowledged it in bewilderment. It was fascinating.

"Thank me."

Looking up at the older woman, I raised my brow. "Thank you, miss?"

She didn't respond verbally. Instead, she pulled my legs towards her, resting the backs of my knees on her shoulder. I sunk lower involuntary.

Mallory leaned forward, one hand grabbing my thigh, the other pulling on the rope decorating my chest. "Do you trust me?"

I blinked at her. "I think?"

Her nails sunk into tender flesh. "You have to trust me, Esme," she sneered, obviously annoyed with me.

"What're you going to do?"

"I want to try something different, at least different for you," Mallory sighed. "But you have to trust me."

I looked her in the eyes, melting beneath blue orbs. "Okay. I trust you."

Letting go of my thigh, she placed that same hand over my mouth, palm against my lips and my nose pinched between her thumb and pointer finger. There was just enough room for me to part my lips and inhale. My curiosity was peaked.

"Take a deep breath."

As soon as I did, Mallory's hand sealed my lips shut. I was about to protest until she pushed me underneath the water. My eyes shut instinctively as I laid there paralyzed, but only for a second. After, I started trashing my head, desperate to get above water. Hair was flowing over my face, practically sticking to my forehead. Was she trying to drown me? I can't die here, not now. I have a life to live.

Mallory pulled me back up by the rope on my chest, repositioning her hand behind my head and digging into my hair. "Good girl."

"Are you kidding me?" I coughed, my voice straining as I tried to regain my breath. "Were you trying to kill me!"

She ignored my yelling, removing the hand on my chest and putting it on top of my cunt, parting my folds with her fingers. I sucked in air, caught off guard by her sudden movement.

Slick fingers rolled over my clit tauntingly slow. Instinct caused my hips to shift, seeking further contact. I started to pant, my brain fogging in pleasure. How was she just ignoring this? She was trying to kill me, right? This couldn't be another one of her sick games.

My pleasure increased, hips canting consistently and Mallory meeting every motion with a flick of her fingers. I let my head lull back, trying to relax after what had happened and enjoy what was happening.

"Do you still trust me?

My eyes shot daggers at the woman. "Seriously." I responded, absolutely appalled.

This was one of her games. I was just a pawn for her to achieve whatever sick pleasure she got from this.

"Don't be dense, Miss Holland," she hissed, "Of course I'm serious."

"Then no, not if you're putting me back under the water."

She increased her pace, moving her finger vigorously against my clit. "And if I don't let you go under?" It was so nonchalant, as if she hadn't tried drowning me.

"Yeah, sure, okay."

What else did I have to lose? Oh yeah, my life.

As her one hand continued moving, Mallory used her other to drag me back down, my head getting closer and closer to the surface. She stopped moving me until my face was sticking out, centimeters away from being submerged.

I spread my thighs apart, giving her more space to work with as she screwed me. I was getting close. Every nerve was on edge; caused by the fear of death by drowning and stimulation. Straining my neck up, I looked into blue eyes, desperately pleaded for rescue and release.

"Can I come?" I rasped frantically.

She arched a brow, amusement written all over her smug face. "I'm not sure, can you?"

"I wasn't asking in terms of capability," I spat, further straining my neck. "I was asking in terms of permission."

"You're very feisty today," Mallory chuckled, apparently pleased that she had gotten a rise out of me. "You may, but be aware that you will be splashed."

I wasn't sure what she was referring to, but I didn't care. I felt my stomach coil and release, my back stretching upwards as the rubber band snapped and the floodgates were opened.

"Yes!" I hissed the 's' sound, elongating the syllable.

In the midst of my orgasm, water attacked my face, landing in my partially opened mouth, while some went up my nose. I thrashed once again, moving in pleasure and desperation. The water burned my nostrils, falling down my throat, but coming up, accompanied by a little bit of stomach acid, through my mouth.

When the water assault was over, I was pulled back up, coughing. A soft hand caressed my cheek. I slapped it away, reaching for the edge of the tub for some stability, but not quite making it as my legs were still latched over Mallory's shoulder.

"What. The. Fuck!" I screamed, trying to claw my way out of the bathtub, my eyes locked with the tiled floor. I snapped my eyes at Mallory, calm, cool, and collected Mallory Morgan. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Don't be dramatic," she chided, setting my feet back in the water.

I stared at her incredulously "Don't be dramatic? Screaming at you for trying to drown me is not dramatic!"

With that, I forced myself up onto my knees. Awkwardly, I crawled out of the tub, landing on my side. Cool air caused gooseflesh to form all over my body. Trying to ignored it, I struggled to get up, incompetent because of the rope around my ankles.

"Would you like some help, dear?"

Shooting her an aggravated look, I ignored the question, instead dragging myself towards the toilet where I had laid a towel. I heard the water shifting, most likely Mal getting out of the bathtub. When I was within arms reach of my towel, it was stolen off of the seat. Instead of being able to wrap myself up and dry, it was draped around Satan's, I mean Mallory's, chest, reaching just above her knees.

"Seriously?" I asked drily, my annoyance reaching its peak. This woman was getting on my nerves quick, adding insult upon injury upon injury, emphasis on injury.

A smug smirk lined sinful lips. "Problem, my dear?"

Again, ignoring her, I placed my hands on the toilet lid. Sitting on my side, I positioned my ankles besides my thigh and forced myself onto my knees. Successfully, I pushed my luck, leaning my weight onto the toilet again in attempt to get on my feet. The toilet rocked forward. I immediately stopped, knowing that I could break it if I put any more weight on it. I tried another way, simply throwing my body forward in hopes that the momentum would be enough to get me up.

Once again, I failed.

Thick laughter erupted behind me. The older woman stood above me, arms crossed over her chest. God, I hate her. Just when I thought she was a decent person, someone I could see myself being around more often, she had to ruin it.

"I'll ask one more time, Esme. If you decline my assistance one more time, I'm going back into the room and will ignore any future requests that you make. So," her lips were still curved into that smug smirk. "Would you like some help?"

Before

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