Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance) (18 page)

Controlled by His Voice 5

Chapter 1

1:55. Saturday. Submission training time.

Well, at least it used to be.

I sat in my brand spanking new Ford Fusion in the same spot I used to park my poor old Sentra. Yes, back again in front of Tristan's Manchester-by-the-Sea mansion.

His SUV was there. I wondered if he was there.

Part of me can't believe I'm back here acting like a stalker. But a deeper stronger part of me knows that I'm here on a mission.

I'm going to free Tristan from his demons. I'm doing this for him, not for me.

Ha, that's a laugh
. I'm fooling myself if I think that. I'm doing it for me too.

For
us.

I just hope he hasn't replaced me. Last thing I need is to see some other girl going in there at
my
time.

1:56. That's it, I'm going in.

I got out of my car and walked to the door. I rang the bell. The second my finger touched it, my heart started its pound-pound-pound rhythm. Fucking Ativan is still useless.

Nothing. No motion. No movement. Nobody peeking out through any window. Maybe he's in the stockade room or whatever he calls it.

I just stood there.

2:05. I rang the bell again. Again with the pounding heart. I undid my coat, even though it was only thirty degrees.

I can wait. I'm not going to let this relationship die. He needs me... and dare I say it?... I
need
him. We can help each other. He needs to heal his trauma, whatever it was, with someone who can bring him back to the world of real genuine loving. And I need freshness and excitement, which he can provide in bundles. We're a perfect match.

2:15. I rang the bell again.

This time the door swung open. There he stood in a black shirt and dark gray trousers. His expensive shoes glistened. Even on a Saturday at home he looks like he just walked off an
Esquire
photo shoot.

"Meghan," he said. "Go home."

"I'm here for submission training," I said.

"Training is over for us," he said. "I already told you. Now go."

"You need me."

"No, Meghan, I don't. Go."

The door slammed shut.

I stood there for forty-five minutes. Once I discovered my toes were going numb, I left.

The next Saturday, I was there again at 1:55 PM. I wore extra layers this time.

But this time, he didn't even open the door. I made it two hours before I left.

That's all right. I'm going to prove to him that I can be his submissive by submitting myself to his door.

By the time the third week of this insanity rolled around, it was warmer out. The sun was stronger. There was a light hint of spring in the air, even though St. Patrick's Day was still a week away.

I rang the bell again, ready for a longer wait than ever.

No answer.

At 2:55 PM, I heard the sound of a car behind me. I turned and looked. A red SUV had pulled up.

Oh God, it's
her
again. Whoever the fuck she is. He
has
replaced me!

I watched her get out of her truck. Her black curly hair fell in wild streams down away from her black leather jacket. She wore a tight red dress and black pumps. Her skin was flawless. Has to be Brazilian. Or Colombian. Thick lips. Full eyelashes. If I had to go lez, I'd pick her.

She walked toward me.

Well, isn't this just fucking fantastic.

"Hello," she said with a smile and a quirky head turn to her left.

"Hi," I said, trying not to sound like I wanted to punch her in the face.

"Are you here to see Tristan?"

No, I'm selling fucking Girl Scout Cookies, bitch.

"Yes," I said with a dainty smile, "and you?"

"Yes! I'm Isabella."

Of course you are.

She put out her hand and I took it. Her smile was truly dazzling. She seemed honestly pleased to meet me. She practically glowed. Her skin was a color I had never seen before. Not brown, not white, not red. Kind of a milky amber. Hard to describe.

I tried to take my hand back but she wouldn't let go of it. I tried again and the slut let go.
What the fuck?

The door opened.

Tristan was resplendent in a light blue pinstripe shirt, gray pants, and his usual glistening shoes.

Having not seen him in two long weeks, I allowed myself to stare and drink in his unearthly shape.

The bright sun picked up the beautiful color of his eyes, making them more aquamarine than usual. The lines around his mouth where he smiled lightly were craggy and chiseled. I leaned forward. I smelled something like mint and sandalwood.

"Well," said the deep velvety voice I've been longing to hear, "I see you two have met."

"Yes," said Isabella as she turned her splendiferous smile back toward me. I wondered if it would be as splendiferous with two front teeth missing.

I just smiled back, although my smile likely was not splendiferous. Probably more of a spitting-daggers style.

"Come on in," said Tristan.

Come on in? Really? Is he talking to me? Or her? Or both of us?

Fuck it, I'm taking the lead. Without wasting a tenth of a second, I barreled in past Tristan, leaving the milky amber goddess in my wake.

Tristan just smiled his pleasant smile. I heard the click-clack of Isabella's heels behind me.

Tristan closed the door and led the way into the lounge. I sat on one side of the coffee table and Isabella sat on the other. She beamed at me. My fingers itched to claw that fucking smile off her face.

An assortment of papers, a cup of coffee, and a pen lay on the low coffee table. I flashed back to the first day I sat here. Hard to believe that was only a couple of months ago. It felt like a lifetime had gone by since then.

"Isabella," said Tristan. "I hope you don't mind if I invite Meghan here to join us today."

Join us? No fucking way!

Hold up there a sec, Meghan. Remember your mission. You're here to help Tristan. It is your assignment to get him to come without killing anybody, namely you.

But I'll be damned if I'll do it while she's here!

Now, Meghan, we had this conversation. You and Tristan are not in a relationship. If anything, you need to win him over. That means going to the mat. That means doing whatever he asks of you. Even if it involves... uggggh...
her
.

I tried not to look at her, but it was next to impossible. She radiated sex, filling the room with sensuality that permeated the air.

Outside the window behind me a flock of seagulls squawked. They're probably trying to get a glimpse of her too.

God, this sucks.

But fine... I'll swallow my pride and do this for Tristan.

"Mentor, may I ask a question?" I said.

"Yes, Meghan," he said.

"What exactly am I joining here?"

"Submissive training, naturally."

Oh that. I remember that.

"Isabella here has made rapid progress and it's time for her to experience some new things. Some things I know you can definitely help her with, Meghan."

Help her?! Fuck that! I'm not lifting a finger to help this bitch... unless it's to help her out the door!

Shut up, Meghan. Just go with the flow.

I cleared my throat.

"Help?" I said.

"Yes," Tristan said. "Isabella is on a slightly different path than you are and needs to become comfortable with different sensations that she wants to explore. It's fortuitous that you showed up today."

Fortuitous?

I looked over at Isabella. She scowled. God, she was even stunning when she did that.

"So," said Isabella, "it was just luck that Meghan was here today standing outside your door when I arrived?"

Tristan laughed and dipped his head. God, I love it when he does that. I know what's coming next. He's going to look up at me with his head slightly tilted.

And he does.

I feel a warmth pool in my solar plexus and travel south to my crotch. Little wet flames igniting.

In that moment, I realize I will do whatever it takes to win over this man. Whatever deviant behavior he wants.

Bring it on, buddy. Bring it.

"Oh no, there was no luck involved at all," Tristan said. "Meghan was perfectly on time as I knew she would be."

Isabella flashed her inquisitive big brown eyes at me. Then I saw her shake it off.

"Okay," she said.

"Isabella," said Tristan in the deep velvety voice that can make me come on command, "strip."

My right hand went to my waist like I was about to take my top off when I stopped myself and let it dangle in midair before planting it under my crossed legs. Steady, Meghan, he wasn't talking to you.

Watching Isabella disrobe was oddly captivating. I did manage to steal a couple of looks at Tristan as she did so. He was writing something down, barely noticing her show.

But I certainly got an eyeful. The milky amber skin was perfect all over. A couple of moles, one birthmark on her left hip. But other than that, she looked like she was poured into a mold filled with coffee and cream, two sugars.

Big thick lips and a jaunty little nose beneath huge brown eyes with thick natural lashes, surrounded by flowing tight black curls of hair.

Dainty shoulders and straight arms. Thin wrists. A perfectly flat belly under medium-sized breasts that perkily pointed upward. Large areolas.

A plump mound with a little tangle of black hair around it. I always thought it best to be completely clean-shaven down there but damn this girl even made pubic hair look fantastic.

But her ass...
wow
... what an ass. Perfectly round, it made a very neat half-moon circle that led to firm but meaty feminine thighs.

I felt a stab of jealousy. I always knew I was hot, but this girl is fucking ridiculous.

Do you think Tristan would object if I threw her out the window onto the slimy cold rocks? Yeah, probably.

I glanced at Tristan again. Still absorbed in his notes.
What the fuck does he write, seriously?

He looked up and caught my eyes. A flash of electricity charged through me ending in a gasp. He must have noticed because he smiled.

"Meghan," he said.

Here it comes. He's going to ask me to strip. My hand started moving back to my side in anticipation.

"Inspect Isabella for me please."

Inspect? Is he kidding? What the fuck? No way. No fucking way!

Meghan, just do it.

Fine.

I stood up and walked behind Isabella, never averting my eyes from Tristan. Then I looked her up and down. She smelled of lavender.

"What do you want me to do?" I said.

"Put your hands on her ass," he said. "Tell me if she's been working out like I told her to do."

Is he fucking serious?

"How will I be able to tell?" I said.

"You'll know," he said as he stared deeply into my eyes over Isabella's shoulder.

So I put my hands on her two big round globes. Oddly, I felt a thrill swimming around in me. While there have certainly been women I have found attractive, I've never even considered becoming this intimate with any of them.

Which is not to say I wouldn't. It's just that I always found men so much more attractive that they took precedence. It's kind of like if I ran out of men, sure I'd have sex with women. But there had always been so many men... I could never run out.

Until now. There was only one man left on planet Earth to me. And I will do whatever he tells me to do.

"What do you think?" he said.

I grabbed her cheeks and squeezed them. Firm. Bouncy.

"I think she has been working out as instructed, mentor."

Isabella's head raised and she looked at Tristan.

"Mentor?" she said. "I thought you said I was your only student."

"Meghan is a former student," he said. "She broke the rules and I had to dismiss her."

Isabella turned and looked at me. I wish she wouldn't do that.

I turned to Tristan and squinted at him as if to say
Did you have to tell her?

"But I've decided to give Meghan a shot at redeeming herself," he said.

Fuck you, pal.

Chill, Meg. Get redeemed. Remember your mission.

"Get on your hands and knees, Meghan", he said.

Mmmm, now that's my language. I did as told.

"Now spread Isabella's ass cheeks."

I don't like where this is going.

I reached up and pulled her open. Her browneye winked at me, I swear.