Page 9 of Payback
I directed an intense glare at him, unwilling to acknowledge that this single month I had surrendered to him couldn’t possibly equate to the years of torment I had inflicted upon him. However, it caught me off guard that he didn’t demand an entire year at the very least. But perhaps requesting a year’s commitment would be more challenging to conceal, and considering I was at his disposal around the clock for an entire month, he could likely balance the scales swiftly.
“Why are you hesitating?” he asked, noticing my hesitation with the pen poised just above the concluding black line.
“Just... taking a moment,” I responded.
“To?”
“To remember the taste of freedom,” I whispered. A soft chuckle escaped him, and even in this moment of his satisfaction, his laughter held a gentle quality. Despite his evident pleasure in this situation, my body involuntarily tensed, evoking a quiet curse from me. The fortunate aspect was that he assumed my curses were directed at the contract. Perhaps a few of the words were aimed at the paper, but I was more disconcerted by my body’s response. I had often spoken about my unwavering loyalty to my husband, emphasizing its significance. I prided myself on resisting temptation, even when the offers were plentiful over the years. For all my flaws, I remained steadfast in my loyalty to those in my life. Yet now, that loyalty had precipitated my downfall. With my eyes half-lowered, I guided the pen across the paper with swift movements. The instant my signature graced the document, Jared swiftly snatched it from my hand, as if he couldn’t stand the contract held by my “filthy” touch. He regarded it with contentment, although I was well aware that a bold, unbroken black line had emerged beneath my signature. I had barely had the chance to lift the pen before he seized it, and therefore a line was traced across the white paper. Nevertheless, Jared appeared to be satisfied, offering an approving nod as he scrutinized my signature, leaving no room for doubt that it was indeed my own.
“Oh, would you look at that, you’ve stopped writing the heart over the ‘i’,” he taunted, igniting my annoyance at his knowledge of my past habits.
“We all grow up,” I muttered, replacing the pen’s cap and setting it back onto the table. “I assume this concludes our arrangement?”
Observing him, I wrestled with my fear as he secured the paper within an envelope, which he then folded and slipped into an inner pocket.
"It does. You will go home later and receive the news from your husband. You will call the office and send out a blast to your friends and family that you’re going on vacation, and then tomorrow, I will come to collect what is mine," he informed me, making me shiver with fear. Yet, at least I had one day before the humiliation started.
"Good, then—"
"Get on your knees."
I froze, struggling to process the abrupt command that had left his lips seemingly out of nowhere. Blinking rapidly, I locked eyes with him.
"Excuse me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"I said, get on your knees."
"A-Are you serious? Here? Now?"
"Every 24 hours for a month, you'll do as I say without question," he commanded, his tone laden with darkness, offering no room for negotiation. To hear Jared Tyler address me in such a manner was bewildering, rendering me motionless in disbelief. “I’m waiting, Alison.”
Swallowing hard, my body quivering, I found myself uncertain of what would unfold next as I approached cautiously. Walking nearer, I kept one hand lightly pressed against the desk, seeking its stability. Upon reaching his side of the desk, standing a mere few inches from him, our feet almost touching, I abruptly halted.
"You're still standing," he noted.
My gaze flickered toward the glass door. Anyone could enter and witness me kneeling before Jared. My assistant occupied a room nearby, and a steady stream of people sought my advice throughout the day. Although mornings tended to be quieter, that was no guarantee.
"If you're swift, no one will catch you," he reminded me. "But get your ass moving before you're caught."
“And here I thought I could be cruel,” I murmured as I gradually bent my legs, lowering myself to the floor in front of him. My heart felt as if it were on the brink of bursting, ensnared by the thick, ominous tension enveloping us, taunting me. Adrift in this state of uncertainty, my entire body trembled.
“Alison, your cruelty knows no bounds,” he reminded me. “This is justice.”
“Justice?” I questioned, finally settling onto my knees before him.
“Exactly,” he exhaled, his gaze adopting a new intensity. The only way I could describe it was pure and undeniable hunger. He had me exactly where he desired, his stare predatory.
“What now?” I loathed how much I felt like asking, but I truly wished he only desired to witness me bow before him. I hoped that would satiate his darkness.
“Now, you use those delicate hands of yours to open my pants,” he commanded.
With his arms casually draped over the armrests of the leather chair in which he sat, he regarded me with an air of superiority.
“What?”
“I told you to open my pants, and once you’ve done that, you will use that sweet mouth of yours on me and suck my cock,” he demanded.
My mouth fell agape, struggling to believe that I was actually in this horrible situation, being instructed to suck him off as if we were casually discussing something as mundane as the weather.
