Chapter 12

Tara

Holy shit, what time is it? Rolling out of bed, I can't see much of anything because the curtains have been drawn again.

I feel boneless. Stretching my arms and legs, the memory of what Sir did to me with that spreader bar floods my mind. My thigh muscles hurt like a motherfucker. Don't get my started on my pussy. "Shit."

Ding!

Something lights up on my end table. It's not my cell, since I left mine at home, but it's definitely someone's.

And the only person in here besides me has been Sir.

Rolling over takes more effort than it should. Christ, my body is Jell-O. Plucking the phone off the end table, I tap the screen and see a message.

Take a shower, Butterfly. We have lunch reservations at two.

I'm not that hungry, honestly. But I'm dying for a drink. My head's throbbing and my pussy aches. Just getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom makes me stumble and whimper.

The lights turn on automatically once I enter the bathroom, forcing me to squint against the brightness. "Turn off," I groan, smacking the heel of my palm against the light switch. "Please, turn off." I smash it three times before the lights dim.

That's good enough.

The shower's huge and has more buttons in it than a space shuttle. It takes me forever to figure out how to get the water running the way I'd like. Just standing under the rain showerhead, letting the water fall over me, feels incredible. I take my time, enjoying the heat and relaxing atmosphere. The shower lights are a dim blue hue, which is lovely. And so extra. Bet there's a switch to make it beat with the music on that control panel too.

Not that I'll mess with it.

By the time I'm done in the bathroom, my headache isn't so bad. Nothing a few cups of coffee can't fix.

But now I've realized that I don't have any clothes or makeup with me because my suitcases still haven't returned to my room. Shit. Going back over to the nightstand, I pick up the cell phone and type a message.

Can you please bring me my clothes, Sir?

A ding sounds from the sofa, and it scares me half to death.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I say, holding my chest. My heart gallops and head pounds with renewed force. "You scared the shit out of me!"

The curtains automatically open, revealing Mr. Hudson stalking towards me. I squint against the light and automatically cover my tits and pussy.

"Put your arms down," he says.

I obey easily enough. There's something strange about submitting to a Dom. I learned how much I liked it back in college, though it didn't end well the first time. Or the second.

Or the third.

I have shit taste in men and even worse taste in Doms, I guess. My track record doesn't bode well for Mr. Hudson. But his reputation supersedes my past lover's inability to Dom safely and correctly. I'm hoping to learn more and explore myself without the backlash of being abused in the process this time.

Lowering my arms, I keep my gaze locked on his. I might be submissive lately, but there's a powerhouse in me too, and that part of me won't cower. Maintaining eye contact is something I need.

"Good girl." Sir runs his hands through my dripping wet hair. Hard lines etch his handsome face as he cocks his brow at me. "We have a hair dryer and all other styling tools in the bathroom closet for you to use."

"I saw them." Shuddering under his gaze, I add, "I didn't use the blow dryer because my head's pounding. I didn't want to make it worse."

Sir's expression softens, and suddenly he's escorting me back to the bed. "If you're unwell, we can hold off for a day or two."

"No." It's a headache, not a bullet wound. I'm not letting him get out of another day or night with me. "I'll be fine. I just need some coffee and food."

He looks around the suite, confused. "You haven't eaten?"

"No." Anger dances across his face and his jaw clenches. It makes me think I've done something wrong. It makes me nervous. "I only just woke up. I haven't had a chance to grab a bite to eat yet."

"I had food sent up to you hours ago." He looks around again. "I don't see it."

No one's been in my room that I know of. "No one can creep in and out of here, can they?" My heart races, which makes my blood pressure rise, and that causes my headache to worsen.

"Absolutely not. They'd need your permission first."

Thank God. Although, part of me is hurt finding out that he's been gone this whole time. It's like he keeps trying to get away from me and that's not fair.

"Well…" I shirk away before he makes me sit on the bed. "How about you go grab me some coffee and my suitcases and then we can start our fun day together." It's already twelve thirty in the afternoon. "Where are our lunch reservations?"

His mouth forms a thin line as he stares at me. "Downstairs."

"Oh." My disappointment is made clear by my tone. It's silly of me to think he was going to take me out and show me off. I'm nothing but a fucktoy with an expiration date, right?

And I signed up for this.

The devious part of me takes over and I storm over to the door. "I'll get my own coffee then. See you in the kitchen for lunch." I walk out and let the door slam shut behind me.

"Hey!" Mr. Hudson yells behind me. "What the fuck are you doing, Butterfly?"

"Getting shit done, Sir." It's not lost on either of us that I'm completely naked. I have no problem showing off my body—I made that perfectly clear last night at the ceremony. My only real issue is I have no clue where to get a fresh cup of fucking coffee in this big place.

Mr. Hudson's on me in an instant. Grabbing my arm, he swings me around and presses my back against the wall. His pupils are blown wide, his breaths controlled and heavy. If it wasn't for the way his veins stick out in his temples, I'd say I've turned him on. But I'm pretty sure I've just pissed him off again.

Well, I've got news for him. He's pissed me off too. "What is your problem?"

"I'll not have my Butterfly on display for anyone else but—" He catches himself before finishing that sentence.

"Anyone else but?" I arch my perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. "But who, Mr. Hudson? You?"

His gaze darkens.

"Because you seem to be doing anything but paying attention to me. In fact…" I shove him back. "You don't seem to want anything to do with me."

"I literally gave you so many orgasms this morning that you passed out, Miss Reed."

Miss Reed. Not Tara. Not Butterfly. If he keeps that up, his defenses will be all mine to manipulate, and that's annoying, honestly. He's calling me names to keep me at a distance. The more personal things get, the more open we'd be, and it's clear he wants none of that connection.

I don't either, really. But I do want to be treated with more respect than what he's given me so far.

"I can do that myself, Sir. You did me no favors."

He scoffs.

The audacity of this motherfucker. "You knocked me out with pleasure just so you could go back to work." I poke my finger into his hard chest. "You didn't do it for me. You did it for yourself."

"As a pleasure Dom, my only concern is making you come."

"As your Butterfly, my only purpose is to…" My words trail off because my headache's making a righteous comeback. Clutching the side of my head, I groan and close my eyes.

"Fuck."

Before I know it, Mr. Hudson has scooped me up and is carrying me back to my suite. He no sooner lays me on the bed than pulls out his cell and makes a call. "D, I need you in here now."

"I'm fine." Honestly, he's overreacting.

"You're not fine. You can barely open your eyes."

A gentle knock interrupts what I want to say, and Ryker leaves me so he can open the door. I hear low whispers and the fresh scent of coffee wafts through the air and into my nose. My mouth waters for it.

"Here." Ryker sits on the side of the bed and hands me a mug.

Steam trails into my nose, making me perk up a little more when I take it from him. "Caffeine addiction is a bitch." I can drink my weight in coffee on a bad day. I can drink a river of it on a normal one.

"Take these," he says, handing me two little pills. "It's over-the-counter shit."

"Thank you." I pop them in my mouth and chase them down with another sip of this amazing coffee.

"Don't you burn your mouth doing that?"

"Sometimes. But it tastes too good for me to care about the pain." I take another small sip. "What's in this, heavy cream and cinnamon?"

"Fuck if I know. Dmitri makes it."

"Had I known the club had an expert barista on staff, I'd have joined last year instead of waiting so long." Man, this is good stuff. My stomach growls and Mr. Hudson hands me a pastry. It's only after I take it from him that I notice my hands are trembling.

"When was the last time you ate, Tara?"

The way he says my name makes me melt. I like it. "I guess yesterday morning."

"You guess?"

"Mmm." I chomp down on the pastry Dmitri brought too and take another sip of my coffee. "I don't keep track."

There's that look again. Mr. Hudson keeps dropping his mask, which makes me want to see what it would take to tear it off for good.

"If you get me my suitcase, I can get dressed and be ready for lunch in twenty minutes." My head's still not okay enough for me to use the blow dryer on my hair, but I can braid it if he wants me to. "We can go out somewhere."

"No."

My heart drops, along with my stomach. "Why?"

He reaches up and I think he's about to touch my face, but stops himself. "I…" His hand falls again. "I'll be back later."

With that, he gets up and leaves me again.