Page 26 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
I reach for the lingerie, pausing when I realize I can smell the booze seeping out of my pores.
Yuck. Even I’m not willing to defile those beautiful clothes by putting them on without rinsing off first. Plus . . . maybe if I appear sweet and obedient, I’ll get the answers I want faster than if I flip Mount the bird and defy his orders.
The clock on my phone shows I’ve wasted another minute deliberating, which means I have exactly four minutes to rinse off and get changed.
Screw it. I rush to the bathroom and grab a toothbrush and toothpaste off the counter before stepping into the massive shower and turning the spray to hot. I brush my teeth, not caring that it’s Mount’s toothbrush, as I scrub last night off my body.
Conscious of the seconds ticking away on my deadline, I practically scald myself flipping the tap off, then snag a fluffy towel to wrap around me.
I toss my borrowed items back on the counter and dry off as fast as I can before shimmying into the bustier and tying its silk ribbon in a bow. I take extra care with the stockings, not wanting to snag them as I slide each one up a leg. Finally, I step into the garter belt and hook the clips to the top of the stockings.
A final chime sounds on my phone, and I want to hurl the thing at the wall. Instead, I read the latest appointment reminder.
You’re late. For every minute that passes, I’m taking it out on your ass.
A shiver rushes through me, hardening my nipples, even though I tell myself that doesn’t mean anything good. I saw the butt plug. So, what the hell does taking it out on your ass mean?
I rush to the door, almost tripping on a pair of sky-high black pumps that can’t be called anything but what they are—hooker heels. But in this case, they’re the really expensive kind.
I don’t think before sliding my feet inside. I touch the door handle, but immediately remember the last thing I’m missing and scramble back to the bed to grab the leather box.
My phone reads 12:05. I really am late.
Hell. This isn’t going to be good.
I hurry to the door again, steadying myself as I twist the knob and push it open.
The room I’d tried to break into the night before isn’t like the infamous red room of pain like I’d imagined, but an office. For some crazy reason, I actually feel a little let down. I thought for sure Mount would have some kinky room in this place, but apparently he’s not quite the sexual deviant I thought he was.
Or I just haven’t found it yet.
From behind the wide desk, much like in his other office, he fixes his dark eyes on my body as I step inside the room and close the door behind me. Voices come from his phone, which he has on speaker, and I realize he must be on a conference call.
He crooks a finger in my direction as he speaks. “Now that we have everyone necessary present, let’s begin. Yakamora, you can start.”
Yakamora, a name that’s unfamiliar to me, begins discussing market fluctuations and hedges against risk. I can’t tell if Mount is paying any attention to him because his gaze never leaves mine as I walk toward him on my towering heels, the leather box in hand.
“I understand your aversion to risks, but none of us would be where we are if we hadn’t taken them,” Mount says. “Casso, you want to share your opinion?”
A deep voice with an Italian accent fills the room next, but I’m not paying attention to his words because I’ve stopped a foot away from Mount. His dark gaze starts at the toes of my fuck-me heels and drags up the sheer black stockings, pausing on my pierced hood for a moment before rising to the garter belt and then the bustier.
“Just because those methods have worked for the old guard doesn’t mean they’re going to continue to work. If we want to maintain any control over what’s happening, we have to be united in our approach,” Mount says as his gaze finally reaches my face.
When
the man with the Japanese accent begins to argue, Mount holds out a hand to me, palm up.
What does he want? I only wonder for a moment before I realize he’s waiting for the box clenched in my grip. I offer it to him, partly terrified and partly thrilled at the thought of him using either or both of the items it contains on me.
What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t want this.
But I do.
Now that I know he’s on a conference call, the gag makes sense, but it doesn’t make it any less intimidating. Mount sets the box on his desk as the call continues, a roundtable of opinions, and from little bits and pieces I’m comprehending, it has to do with nothing I want to know about.
Mount lifts the gag out first, his dark gaze almost seeming to spark. He reaches his right hand out to hit the mute button on the speaker. “You ever wear one of these before?”
I shake my head, unintentionally following his order not to speak, but I literally have nothing to say.
