Restraint (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (15 page)

“And thank you for the two best orgasms of my life. I look forward to all the ways I imagine bringing us pleasure. Freak out if you must, but
you will come again… and again… and again… even if I have to tie and gag you. Be forewarned,” he darkly commands.

I pass out on pleasure as Master Ez’s hands stroke my skin and his lips
tenderly take mine. My last thoughts are of how I managed to give him two orgasms and how I’ve only had two orgasms in my life… my shame and the one my Master provided.

Chapter Twelve

“Zeitle
r’s not here today,” Monica blurts out as she barges into my office, uninvited as usual.

“What do you mean?”
My voice pitches high with confusion. As far as I know Zeitler is around. I’m ninety-nine percent positive that Ezra Zeitler is Master Ez of the EZ persuasion. I last saw him less than two hours ago… in my bed. Ez stayed past sun up. My blackout drapes effectively cut off any infiltrating light.

The first morning in my new apartment I blessed the previous owners for leaving the drapes. Now
, I’m not so sure it was the last owners who furnished my apartment. I moved a trunk of clothes, boxes of books, and a handful of personal items into my place, everything else was furnished. It seemed too good to be true that everything was to my tastes. And it was too good to be true- Thank you, Master Ez, you high-handed sonofabitch.

“It m
eans… He’s Not Here Today.” Monica draws out the words like I’m retarded for asking.

Whe
re the fuck did he go? I wanted- no, I needed to see Zeitler. I have to study him, drink him in. The anticipation is killing me. And I miss him already.

“I know what it means, Monica.” I roll my eyes at her to make light
of the situation. I don’t want my internal dialogue to show on my face. “I just wanted to know where he went, is all,” I flippantly say with a shrug.

“You don’t have a chance in hell, fugly” Her evil laugh turns her warm brown eyes cold. I guess I didn’t mask my face good enough.

“Dang, HR is doing a spectacular job with the sensitivity training, aren’t they?” I snidely say. “Don’t be an idiot, Monica. You know damned well that’s not what I meant. His absence is a huge inconvenience. We had a meeting scheduled,” I look down at my cell. “In ten minutes… and now is the first time I find out about it. It messes with my entire day, and you know I love to keep an accurate schedule.”

“Oh, sorry,” Monica
says to mollify me. She slides into my guest chair as if our uncomfortable conversation is an invitation for her to linger. “He left Friday evening with his fiancée and her family. It was a family emergency or something. Adelaide’s brother-in-law, Robert, is huge into politics. I think he’s running for Vice President,” she snootily says, as if just talking about it makes her a part of their elite group. “So, Zeitler won’t be back until Wednesday morning.”

Disa
ppointment and worry rush in, causing me to frown. If this is true, then my entire theory is blown to bits. It was easier to swallow that my boss was
the Boss
. Seeing him in real life, knowing where he works, what he looks like, and what his real name is was a comfort. It skeeved me out to think that he’d intimately touch me when he has a fiancée, but I rationalized that that is why he didn’t want me to touch him back. Who am I kidding, horrific past aside, if he would’ve asked to have sex… I’d have said yes… and I wouldn’t have given a shit about Adelaide Whittenhower’s feelings. I was being selfish for once. Now… what the fuck?

Think, Katya!

This out of town bullshit
could be a cover story to throw me off of his trail, to complicate the game. But it’s Monica happily giving me the news. I wouldn’t believe Kayla in this instance. No doubt Ez could get her to do anything he asks. But Monica is a different story, and she’s hard-headed and belligerent. She’s also still angry with both Zeitler and me about Abernathy. I just don’t see Monica covering for Zeitler.

“I know we don’t see eye-to-
eye most of the time.” Monica begins, and I flash an incredulous look in her direction. She leans forward, getting into my personal space, and cautiously places her hand on my forearm. “I believe it’s because we are so much alike. And… well… I can be a bit of a bitch.” Her hand flexes on my arm. “Please take my advice. You don’t have to admit it, but somewhere in that head of yours, you’re thinking about our boss in a bad way. He loves Adelaide. They’ve been together for six years. Nothing will break them up, especially you.”

I have to love Monica, while trying to make me feel better
, she insults me. Priceless. Typical. Noting my expression, she leans back in her chair. She breaks our connection, and with it our moment.

“I’m not
with Abernathy anymore. After nearly three years, he just dropped me with absolutely no explanation. I was good enough to warm his bed every night he wanted me, and then the next night, I wasn’t. Maybe Zeitler is interested in you, maybe not. But after playing with you, he will drop you, too. Men like that don’t want women like us.”

“And what kind
of woman is that, exactly?” I tightly ask, trying to restrain my erupting anger. Monica is hitting way too close to home for comfort.

“The smart and strong women. The women who demand
more out of life. Women who act and think like men. They play with us, get their cheap thrills. But they always marry the pretty little things, and then house them in gilded cages to raise their perfect children. We’re their dirty secrets- they are their lives.”

“Abernathy’s married
, isn’t he?” She nods in assent. “I’m sorry, but I’m not that stupid. And I have no intentions on Zeitler. His absence not only screws up my day, but at least the rest of the week. Kayla’s going to have a fit.”

“Fine, be that way
,” Monica sighs out, knowing full and well that everything I just said was utter bullshit. She looks disappointed in me, like she was hoping we could connect for a few minutes, or maybe the part of me that hungers for friends is projecting. “I guess our five minutes of truce are over.”

“Thanks, Monica. It actually does
mean something coming from you,” I genuinely respond.

“Don’t get all mushy on me, boss. I’m still after your job
, ya know.” She gives me a wicked smile filled with promise.

“Oh,
of that, I’ve no doubt. Good luck with that. I’m curious to see what you do. Now get out of my office and get your bony ass back to work… and if ya see my assistant, tell her to get her plump ass in here. We have some schedule rearranging to do.”

The conversation with
Monica hit me hard. It’s the first time I saw her as a person rather than an annoyance. I think I could actually like her if we could get over the animosity she holds for me, and if she’d leave my job alone. It was wrong of Monica to have an affair with Abernathy. Obviously he wasn’t going to leave his wife for her, because if he was going to leave his wife, he’d have done that before cheating. She may have not been cheating on anyone when she was with him, but she lowered herself to his level when she slept with him. It was disrespectful on so many levels.

If Master Ez is Ezra Zeitler then I’
m doing the same stupid ass thing. He’s engaged to a rich, educated, influential woman. Aside from the fact that I’m none of those things, why would I lower myself by having an affair with an attached male? I’m worth more than that.

Plus
, Zeitler’s vanishing act blows my theory out of the water. If he’s been gone since I saw him at the elevator with Adelaide, then who in the hell did I spend most of my weekend with?

I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and plot…

“Katya,” Kayla’s soft, hesitant voice jars me from my thoughts.

I glance at
my assistant, sizing her up. My hands remember every inch of Temptation’s luscious body. It’s test time. “You look lovely today. Is that a new scarf?” I compliment her, and I’ve never done so previously. I want to see her reaction. She flushes a beautiful pink and a shy smile spreads her lips. God, she’s perfect.

“My boyfriend bought this for me yesterday.” Her finge
rs graze the material knotted at her neck, drawing my eyes.

Hmm…
boyfriend? Either Zeitler and Kayla aren’t Ez and Temptation or somebody’s really stepping up their game. In the four weeks I’ve worked here, not once has Kayla mentioned a boyfriend, nor has she ever worn a scarf. I’m sure my teeth marks aren’t beneath that knotted silk… yeah, right.

“It’s beautiful.
He has amazing taste,” I flatter. Are her buttons fastened higher than usual? It appears so. “I need you to rearrange my schedule for the rest of the week. Sorry, Zeitler’s absence has a domino effect on everything.”

I study her reaction. Either she is very good or not my sub. I’m getting more confused by the second.

Chapter Thirteen

Ninja Kat is in action. I stalk
down the hallway, sticking to the walls, wishing for shadows that do not exist. As I ghost, I feel like a criminal. I guiltily look over my shoulder every few seconds, feeling prying eyes that aren’t there. Thankfully, the hallway is desolate. I had to wait until it was in the middle of lunch hour, with most of the employees either out to lunch or tucked safely away in their offices. The time of day dramatically cut down on non-employee foot traffic, but upped the chances of my coworkers milling the halls.

My office is several hundred feet down the hall from Zeitler’s. The elevator is directly in the middle of that space. My eyes keep cutting back to the elevator doors while my ears tune in for the telltale sound of the elevator on the move. It would be just me luck that those doors would open up and spit Zeitler out
, just as I commit my first crime.

It’s time to get
off the bench and enter the game.

I wait, leaning against the wall, examining my
fingernail polish- all nonchalant like, looking like I belong where I rest. Nope, I’m not contemplating breaking and entering- wouldn’t dream of it.

I
silently creep down the hallway, eyes on the lookout for coworkers who will rat my ass out. Zeitler’s office lies straight ahead, beckoning me with its hidden secrets. I quickly sprint the last twenty feet. I lean my back against my boss’ door, catching my breath. My hand slowly creeps, seeking out its prize. My fingertips quickly twist the doorknob.

Drat!
It’s locked

I drop to my knees,
yanking a pin from my hair as I move. I unsurely poke at the lock. All the while I hear an imaginary timer going off in my mind. If I don’t get this door unlocked within a minute, I’m going to have to hightail it back to my office in defeat.

Years of snooping on my older sister comes in handy. Living in a one bathroom home with a mother and teenaged sister was always a challenge. I learned how to pick that door lock, because it was either that or piss outside. Who knew it took three hours to pluck your eyebrows… and that is why I am not a girly-girl… and why it
takes less than thirty seconds before I hear the snick of Zeitler’s door unlocking.

Movement over my shoulder draws me
from my crouch. Mailman Rick strolls towards me, happily whistling his usual cheery tune. The obvious is the unobvious. I make no excuses for my presence. I wear a smile and innocently wave as he strides by.

The moment he turns the corner, out of sight,
I turn the knob on Zeitler’s office door, and step inside. I silently pray the office is vacant. What a shitty Ninja I would make if I break into an occupied office… I’m mean, really, c’mon.

I breathe a sigh of relief that a six foot tall towhead isn’t sitting behind the maple desk. Dragging oxygen into my lungs, tasting the scent in the air on the back of my tongue… I can smell him in
here- smoky, spicy, and warm. It’s the same scent that is infused in my sheets. I enjoyed the fragrance of his skin as I laid in bed this morning, procrastinating before I went to work. I’d know that scent anywhere.

I lean against the door and take a
few brief moments to survey the space. I try to imagine the man, Ezra Zeitler, working in here. Even more insane, imagine Master Ez sitting behind that desk. Neither seems possible. The room has absolutely no personality, bland and lifeless.

Action,
I push away from the door and scope out the office. The desk, office chair, and guest seating are exactly as mine. I, however, do not have a picture of Adelaide Whittenhower smiling on the beach framed on my desk. Nor do I have a photo and announcement of my engagement to said woman hanging proudly from my wall. Blonde, blue-eyed, and waifish, Adelaide pleasantly taunts me from the pictures.

Resentment coils in my g
ut. If Zeitler is Master Ez, and I’m now ninety-nine-point-nine percent positive he is, then I’m officially as stupid as Monica said I am, and I should be punting myself in the cunt. If Ezra Zeitler isn’t Master Ez, then I hate my boss on principle. The fucker has everything I don’t have: happy life, a beautiful spouse-to-be, and gobs of money to take insanely expensive vacations.