Again, the phrase fucking bastard floats through my head, but this time I keep it in. I spin and rush into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, not even thinking until I'm midway through brushing my teeth that maybe slamming a door in Rihanna's face might not be the best idea I've ever had.
Even so, I scrub my face in a hurry and rush to the closet to find exactly one outfit hanging in it. A black pencil skirt and an iridescent gold blouse that looks nearly transparent. A matching sheer gold bra lies on the center island next to a strand of white pearls.
Black, gold, and white.
I don't have time to wonder again about the significance of those colors as I drop the sheet and get dressed. I'm not the least bit surprised when everything fits perfectly. The clothes are all higher quality than I've even allowed myself to dream of owning, and my employees are certainly going to have questions.
But I'm getting out. I get to go to work. I focus on that because it's the only thing that matters right now.
Then I remember the black-and-gold device I left on the bathroom counter as I leave the closet.
I don't need instructions to know where it goes, or the significance of the fact that I wasn't provided any panties.
The door to the bathroom opens without invitation.
"Three minutes, Ms. Maraj." Her gaze darts to the item I've just been contemplating. Again, one corner of her mouth tugs up. "I see you're not finished preparing yourself."
Our gazes clash as I stand straight, my chin lifted with pride as our battle of wills play out in silence. We both know I'm going to lose. "Are you going to do the honors, or am I?" she asks.
The question sends a bolt of beat straight to my core, even though the opposite should be true. I wish that dark stare turned me ice cold, but it does nothing but spark a firestorm.
"I was just getting to that. If you'll please excuse me for another moment."
My request is overly polite, and apparently amuses her because both corners of Robyn's lips tug upward. Instead of leaving, she leans one shoulder against the doorway.
"You're forgetting who gives orders here. Pull up your skirt, bend over, and fill your pussy with that toy or will gladly do it myself." she pauses, her grin turning wicked.
"Actually fuck that. If you don't do it right now, the next thing filling your pussy will be me, when I fuck you across the countertop and make you watch in the mirror."
Sweet Jesus. I cover my mouth with both hands to silence the shocked breath I suck in. The filthy words that fall from her lips go straight to my core as wetness gathers, already threatening to drip down my thighs.
I reach for the toy with one hand and pull the front of my skirt up as discreetly as possible with the other, keeping my bare ass ponting in the direction of the closet and away from her view.
I should have known better.
She shakes her head. "Face the mirror. Bend over."
The fear that filled me last night when she told me to bend over is absent this morning, and in its place is the rage I harnessed. But something else burns just as brightly. It's like she's tapped into a need I didn't know existed. Like I actually want someone to tell me to do these dirty things to myself.
I force that thought from my mind as I follow her command, bring the toy to my entrance.
"I'm willing to bet you don't even need lube."
I squeeze my eyes shut because she's not wrong. The latex of the toy slides against my slickness.
"Fuck yourself with it first."
I heave in a breath and do as she says, pushing the toy in and pulling it out, teasing myself almost to the brink. I shove it in harder, needing only the tiniest it of stimulation on my clit to push me over the edge. My other hand sneaks around, but she growls another command.
"Stop."
With the toy fully seated inside me, I freeze.
What the hell am I doing? About to get myself off in front of the woman I hate?
I stand straight, almost quickly enough to lose my balance, and smooth the skirt down. When I turn to face her, I pretend none of this ever happened.
At least, until one hand disappears into her pocket and the toy comes to life, vibrating inside me.
My knees to weak at the shock, and I fumble for the edge of the countertop to stay upright.
"Oh my God..." It's a breathy whisper, and I hope to hell she can't hear it.
I'm not that lucky.
She stalks toward me, catching my gaze. "That's not what you said last night when you made yourself come."
The punishment she promised me flashes through my brain, and she must read it on my expression. My orgasm is just within reach...and the vibrations stop.
"I don't have time to deal with your naughty actions, this morning, but I will. In my world, no one gets away with breaking my rules. I have a feeling you'll learn quickly."
My fingertips clutch the edge of the countertop to keep myself from slapping the smug look of her face. Instead, I stand silently in front of her. Apparently she doesn't need or want words from me.
"Get out of my sight while I'm still inclined to let you. Other than using the bathroom, don't you dare take it out without my approval. I promise you won't enjoy the punishment if you do."
I suck in a breath and bolt for the door to the bedroom. I round the side of the bed, grab the stilettos from last night and my trench coat, and practically run for the sitting room door that's cracked open the barest inch.
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Outside, Scar is waiting. Hood in hand.
I hate that fucking hood. But right now, I hate Fenty even more.
I rip the hood from Scar's hand and put it over my head myself, and let him carry my rigid body out of my gilded cage.
A/N: I just got back yesterday night. It's sad that it took a fight for me to get out of my parents grips. My poor cousin...:( That's why I don't like going over that side of my family. They're so disrespectful and I can't take it.
So basically Robyn's playing a messed up game of ________ wears vibrator for 24 hours??
