Chapter Twenty-One

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I tapped the end of my pen on the glass topped, wooden desk, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent office. My mind was zoning out, not concentrating on the notecards I was supposed to be making. First semester finals were in two months, and the preparation I was attempting seemed futile. My focus was not shifted on college, but towards a black beauty; dark hair, blue eyes, and touchy personality. The same beauty seemed to avoid me, at least any prolonged physical touch and eye contact.

Mallory practically refused to do anything outside of our contract with me. I had asked her to go to the grocery store with me, needing her assistance in what to buy for the meal preparation she suggested, but she responded negatively, including a snide remark about my unhealthy lifestyle and ridiculously pathetic relationship with Kalob. It made me feel as if we were back to square one, me tip toeing on eggshells and testing the waters while Mallory swam around, circling her prey before she attacked. That caused me to worry even further, debating if it meant that she was breaking her ties with me in a subtle manner, or the opposite.

What would that mean for me, asides from having to get a real job once again and budgeting extremely well? Would I really be able to live without the trill of being tied up? Being in a semblance of submission towards the woman? This contract was beginning to have an incredible impact on my life, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to go back to a simple, vanilla, as Mallory referred to it as, relationship. I could only imagine Kalob's reaction to me asking if he'd be interested in tying me up. Even if he agreed, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to trust him, knowing he had never experienced this, when an expert, so I assumed, had tied me up on multiple occasions already.

Holy shit, I'm a bondage snob. Is that even a thing? No, probs not.

"Enough of the incessant tapping, Miss Holland."

I'll tap that ass. Please just fuck me.

I dropped the pen on the desk, dragging my fingertips through my slightly tangled hair. Letting out an obnoxious sigh, I stood up from my seat and started to pace the office, trying to ignore the dark haired woman.

Focus on the room.

There was a giant, ornate glass mirror on the wall behind Mallory's chair with a silver metal frame and accents. A taupe love seat was positioned adjacent to the desk, a coffee table matching the desk in front. That wall held five picture frames, all with a simplistic, sketched outline of a woman's body in different positions and by various artists. It was beautiful: sensual yet intriguing. The older woman added an adolescent fern in the corner; in a sure area where it'd get enough sunlight to flourish. She also put a few succulents out; one on her desk, the coffee table, and on the end table besides the door. The room was move livable, homey. I would nap in here.

What else could I focus on?

"Miss Holland."

Please no. Just let me do this.

She repeated herself.

I snapped my head up finally, looking at the woman who had been occupying my mind. "Sorry, Miss." The apology flew from my mouth automatically. I wasn't genuinely sorry, but I knew that's what Mallory wanted to hear.

"Sit down, Miss Holland."

Mallory's eyes were on me, piercing through every layer of skin, every segment of muscle and tissue, down to the hairline fibers, nerves, and tendons. I could feel her gaze, and the heat radiated off of my body. I felt as if I was on fire, my nerves set ablaze.

Staying where I was, I returned the woman's stare. I wasn't wanting to challenge her, but I couldn't stand the silence or feeling of utter anxiety in the room.

Mallory looked piqued, completely annoyed with my antics. Her voice was stern and authoritative. "That was a command, Esme."

My phone started to ringing, and I couldn't help but exhale at the moment of relief. Grabbing the device off of the desk, I answered it, rushing out of the office and onto the street as quickly as possible, shouting "Sorry" behind me.

"Hello?"

"I miss you, baby cakes."

I rolled my eyes, glad that it was Aurora instead of Kalob or my parents. We had barely sent text messages between each other while I was gone, and that was two weeks ago. The last time we really spoke to each other was in the coffee shop, aka the day after my sex-capades with Mallory.

I could still feel her soft skin, the tenderness in her voice as she tied me up, her breasts pressed against me...

Stop it, Esme.

"I miss you too," I responded, "when are we getting together next?" We needed a girl's night, but perhaps not as wild as the last one.

"I don't work tonight or tomorrow." Her tone was suggestive, and I knew what that meant she'd want to do. "When do you want to go out?"

The breeze had a slight bite to it, gnawing through my grey blazer. Because I bought blazers now. Because Mallory said they're professional...and that I'd look good in one.

Fucking Mallory.

I stuffed my free hand in the pocket of my slacks. "I don't really want to go out," I mumbled, not sure how Aurora would react. "but we can hang out at my place ?"

"That works, yeah. I'll text you when I'm on my way over."

"Perfect. See ya' later."

I stayed outside longer than necessary purposefully. I wasn't ready to face Mallory, especially since she didn't have any desire to speak to me. Every time I thought about her, my mind dabbled in past memories of sex, only to switch to her walking away from me. Doubt was growing in me. I felt as if I should just end this now, spare myself the heartbreak --if that's what you would call it- and go back to my simple life with Kalob. It'd be easier than dealing with this, and it'd make me seem like the strong one in the relationship, even though I knew I wasn't. If I knew groveling to Mallory would convince her to keep me, I would have already done it.

Fuck me.

Wrapping my arms around my chest, I kicked the concrete before walking back into the office building, assuming that I would have an unpleasant mistress to deal with.

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