Rumpled Between The Sheets (7 page)

He slammed the
button to close the door, anger rising at her words. How dare she judge him? He
was in control of the situation.

"I am in
control." He stopped the elevator from going to the workroom and instead
headed for his private quarters. The best way to curb his temptation was to
avoid Mary
Becken
until the evening.

When the sun
disappeared, he couldn't bring himself to face her. Instead, he sent the
elevator down with a tray of food and the key to another room for her with
explicit directions to lock the door behind her. Ginger’s leaving couldn't be
at a worse time for him. Too much had to be done and his greatest distraction
had been planted by his own hands.

He had to avoid Mary
at all costs.

Instead of
working with her, he would leave Mary to her own devices. He snuck down in the
middle of the night to retrieve the contract. To his surprise, not only had she
signed it but she had started working on a few pieces. He marveled at the
craftsmanship.

Ginger was
right. Had he not enlisted her services, although a little on the shady side,
she would have upstaged him. For the next few days, he planned to evade her
charms. Yet he ventured to the work room each evening to check on her progress.

His nightly
excursions hadn't gone unnoticed. She left him notes of materials she wanted. He
pressed the note to his lips. No amount of diversion could take his mind off of
her. He still obsessed about every faction of Mary
Becken's
life. Fantasies with her bare legs wrapped around him and tangled in the sheets
for hours cramped his hand. He decided that he couldn't hide any longer.
Scribbling a note to her, he left the workroom.

****

Mary spun her
dress form around, admiring the stitch-work. As much as she wanted to show what
she'd created to the world under her name, the contract she'd signed really
wasn't going to harm her career. She didn't want to be a fashion icon if it
meant turning into a tyrant like Benjamin. This whole collection would be
a homage
to her mother on the grandest stage, save Paris.
Besides, anyone from Beowulf Hollow would recognize her ornate stitching and
know him as one big fake. That would be payment enough for her. Bringing
something new and fresh to her small town was what she enjoyed the most.
Whether the bad memories with Paul spurred that thought, or the fact that
Benjamin had all but ignored her lately, she couldn’t pinpoint. Even Ginger
hadn't visited or shown her face in a while. Perhaps she broke up a love affair
between the two. At least, without him invading her personal space, some of her
wicked dreams about him had subsided.

Shrugging, she
continued to sew loose stitches into the garment. Benjamin promised a model for
her to fit her first dress. What did she care if he didn't visit her while she
worked? He wasn't interested in helping her beyond the workroom, unless it
dealt with getting in her pants. She shivered as visions of him covering her
lips with his, and moving beyond, warmed her.

"Just a
worker," she murmured. The elevator dinged and she wove the needle into
the fabric to keep it in place. She rushed over to get her lunch. Her footfalls
came to screeching halt when she saw Benjamin with her contract in one hand and
a covered silver platter in the other. He set them both on one of the empty
workstations.

"Did you
bring the model to try this on?" She took off her pincushion wristband.

"The
model's already here." He put his hands in his pocket.

"I highly
doubt your legs will do this dress justice." She snorted.
"Seriously, Mr.
Elstiltzkin
.
I've got more than this dress that's going to need fitted."

"And like I
said, the model is here." His eyes roved her body.

"Oh, no.
No, no,
no." She backed up into the wall as he converged on her. His hand tenderly
brushed away the stray hairs from her brow.

"I want you
in that dress, Miss
Becken
." He nipped at her
ear. "And I'm a man who always gets what he wants."

"Like hell
you will." Her words held no conviction. His hands caressed the hem of her
shirt before sliding the fabric up. She cursed her arms as they rose above her
head to accommodate his demands. Her shirt dropped to the floor, and his eyes
dropped to admire her breasts. Her areolas tightened and her breathing
quickened as he leaned toward her chest. She trembled as he dropped to the
ground and undid her pants.

Words formed in
her throat to order him to stop but every touch sent hellfire through her skin.
Her pants lowered to the ground.

"No
panties? Miss
Becken
, you tempt me." His fingers
smoothed over her thighs and traveled further up. She nearly parted her legs to
aid in his journey. He stopped his exploration and stood. "Let's see how
you fit in that dress, shall we?"

Like a puppy on
a leash, she followed after him. With care, he removed her unfinished dress
from the form. Her arms were up and ready for him to shimmy the outfit over her
head. Again his hands caressed her, his knuckles grazing her nipple. Her gazed
locked with his hungry stare.

"My God.
So perfect.
So beautiful."

She wasn't sure
if he referred to the dress or her. As his lips moved closer, her heart
stopped. The crushing demand of his kiss unhinged her. When his tongue invaded
her mouth, she welcomed it with her own. His strong hands massaged her ass. His
erection dug into her. Would he toss her on the table and fuck her if she but murmured
the words? They were lodged in her throat, stuck as she tried to breathe
between their fevered kisses.

He broke away,
flush from their passionate embrace. "Hungry?" He smiled like a
Cheshire cat.

She nodded, too
winded to verbalize. Why had he stopped? The dampness between her legs cooled
from the distance. She glanced around to see if Ginger had shown up. They were
alone.

"Well,
then, let's get business out of the way first." He retrieved the metal
trash bin. He dumped her contract to him in it. "You look fucking amazing
in that dress." Before she could voice any protest, he took out a lighter
and set the ream of paper on fire.

"What are
you doing?" She covered her breasts, the reality of how sheer the outfit
was hitting her.

"Changing
the game, Miss
Becken
."
He chuckled.
"I didn't really formalize that with my lawyer anyway so it's only worth
the paper it's printed on."

"You
tricked me?" Her jaw fell open.

"No, I want
more than that contract will ever say."

She ground her
teeth as that all too familiar smirk spread across his face. The hunger in his
eyes, however, had nothing to do with the food in front of him.

"You see,
you've already got the money from me. However, that's not what's going to get
you home.
Not for me, anyway."
He lifted the lid
on the platter and popped one of the grapes in his mouth.

"What are
you talking about? I can leave whenever I want."

"Really?"
He crunched
down on a chocolate-covered strawberry. "So you've seen my gardens
outside? Walked them?"

"Well,
no." She'd seen them out the window but could never find a way to go
outside. He'd held her here like a prisoner and she'd never noticed.
"You've trapped me here."

He shrugged and
waved a strawberry in her direction. Fuming, she tried to stomp past him. He
grabbed her waist. "Miss
Becken
, Miss
Becken
." He
tsked
. He held
her close, nuzzling her ear. "Tell me that kiss wasn't revealing anything
to me."

"Nothing at
all."
She didn't struggle from his grip. In her mind, she had to save the dress and
all the hard work she put into it. Her aching clit told a different tune.

"So if I
was to…" His fingers inched the fabric of the dress up her thigh.

Her
will threatened
to shatter. Mary should hate this man and his overbearing nature yet every bone
in her body betrayed her. His touch reached the apex of her legs and a sigh
left her lips. With a mind of their own, her legs parted to give Benjamin access.
His throat rumbled.

She gripped the
arm around her waist as his fingers massaged her swollen clit. His strength
prevented her from falling to the floor as her legs trembled. No man had
touched her so tenderly. The intimacy with Paul never had a soft caress, just
pure lust. Soft kisses trailed on her neck.

"Come for
me, Miss
Becken
." He breathed in her ear, his
torment quickening. "Come for me."

She coiled
inside, a spring about to break. She wanted to defy him, to withhold his wishes
from him but his skills far surpassed her strength. She cried out and he slowed
his manipulation for a moment, only to increase the pressure once more. Again
she trembled in his arms. The wetness between her legs increased as he sent her
over the edge one more time.

"This is
the contract I want with you, Miss
Becken
. And you
will give me what I want." He released her to the floor, leaving. She
heaved her chest, trying to catch her breath, brow creasing at his departure.
Shame should have welled in her heart. Desire for more thundered louder.

Alone in the workroom, she
watched her contract burn along with her soul.

Chapter Seven

The dance floor
was primed with single ladies itching to take any man home with them. Colored
lights blazed off the large rhinestone globe above the gyrating bunch. Benjamin
sipped his scotch, content to let his gaze drift from lady to lady. He’d had to
get out of the house before he accosted Miss
Becken
a
second time. His intentions were nowhere near honorable when it came to her. He'd
avoided contact with her for a full week before masturbation had lost its
luster. Only the touch of her skin would sate his needs. His problem was
,
getting attached to one woman wasn't his style. He loved
to switch up his bedmate as much as he jostled his collection every year. Mary
had bewitched him for longer than he wanted to confess.

Though he'd
never openly admit it, his choices had badly influenced his designs. To test
the waters, he'd entered a runway show under a pseudonym to see how his latest
creations would be received. The criticism was far worse than he'd endured his
whole career. He’d lost whatever vision that had given him his illustrious
portfolio. When Ginger had secretly slipped Mary
Becken
into Press Week, he‘d seen his ruin on the wall. Ginger had no romantic or
otherwise intentions toward him. So why had she so viciously tried to destroy
him?

The room.
She had been the first assistant
to have access. How could he could be so stupid? Few things remained from his
childhood. Just a box of pictures and he'd kept everything locked up in his old
office. Somehow Ginger had managed to get a hold of the photos. Meaningless to
anyone beyond him yet she had figured out who he truly was and dropped a piece
of his past straight into his lap.

That was the
last time he allowed an assistant know anything about his sordid past.

Determined to
forget his troubles for the night, he zeroed in on a blonde in a silver mini-dress.
Her heels, four-inch stilettos, sparkled like diamonds with every step she
took. Through her, he'd rid his mind of Mary
Becken
and never be tempted again. Her completing a runway-worthy look must be her
only purpose in his life.

His next
conquest smiled up at him and he returned it before taking a long sip of his
drink. Her tits bounced magically in the metallic material as she sashayed his
way.

"Hey,
there.
What's shaking?" She continued her disco floor boogie like a private
dancer. When she spun
slow
, his eyes gravitated to her
plump ass. Facing him, she took his drink. Her finger swirled the ice around
before she suckled the scotch off. He had no doubt she fully intended to make
her faux fellatio into reality.

"Dance with
me." She held out her hand and he took it. She shook her ass all the way across
the disco floor, leading him to the darkest corner. With her arms draped around
his neck, she ground her body along his. He enjoyed her forwardness and teased
her with some of his own. His hands possessed her, keeping her pressed against
him. She took the invitation, her arms dropping to his waist and below.

Sweaty bodies,
lost in the music, never once turned to gawk as her boldness grew. He had to
admit, she displayed an adventurous side not one his partners bothered to show.
Her hand wiggled down his pants.

"That's
some python you got there. I'd love to take it for a spin." She grinned as
she backed him against the wall.

He leaned
forward to catch a whiff of her hair. "Mary," he murmured.

"What?"
His blonde dominatrix removed her hand and backed away. "I'm not some
fantasy fuck, sweetie." She hustled away without another glance.

"Dammit."
He straightened his clothes. Bedding whatever willing female crossed his path
wasn't going to work. The bar beckoned and he sat down. A few drinks later, and
a few dismissals for company, he staggered out to his limo, waiting in the
parking lot. He ignored the frown on his driver's face. Inside, he partook of more
liquid refreshment when a mirage of Mary
Becken
appeared on the seat opposite him, completely naked. She didn't go away no
matter how much he guzzled.

She crawled across
the floor toward him. The bottle in his hands slipped into hers and she took a
healthy swallow, licking the opening. Eyesight blurry, he groaned as she undid
his pants.

"Fuck,
Mary," he groaned, closing his eyes. Her laughter filled the cab. Lips
teased his mushroom tip. Warm breath caressed his cock. Fingers curled around
the length and he moaned as a tongue swirled along his foreskin. His hands
wanted to tangle in her hair, to invite her to take more of his cock in her
mouth. She wasn't real, just a figment of his imagination.
A
delightful dick-sucking mirage.

No more than the
tip rolled across her lips as the foreskin peeled back to expose it.

"
You fucking
tease." He sucked in a breath.

"What do
you want, Mr.
Elstiltzkin
?" Her sultry voice
purred in his ear. "Do you want my hot, wet pussy to slide onto your big
fat cock?"

His eyes
widened, staring down at her ruby red lips. Her tongue flicked out and he
tensed.

"Or do you
want these lips to mark your cock as my plaything?" She opened her mouth
slightly, her head hovering millimeters from the opening.

"I want to
you to suck my cock, Miss
Becken
." He licked his
dry lips. "Fucking brand my cock with your red lips and swallow every last
drop of
my cum
." His fists banged against the
leather seats as his fantasy swallowed him to the base.
This can't be real.
His thoughts reeled. Plenty of women had given
him head. Her masterful tongue and manipulation of his balls spoke of
experience beyond his one night stands.

He watched her
in fascination, the red lipstick leaving pucker-marks. Her tongue flicked along
the head before she took the whole length in her mouth again. She'd offered
more to him. He was sorely tempted to take it but her beautiful golden tresses
framed his legs and his angle gave him an intimate view of her play. His hips
moved to her rhythm as he unleashed his seed. True to his wishes, she lapped up
every bit of his orgasm.

Benjamin's eyelids
drooped. The brakes squealed and the car came to a stop. Her lovely vision shrugged
on a coat, smirking. He reached for her but every bone in his body had reached
its limit. Slumber took him.

****

Mary danced
across the work room to
Little Willy
by Sweet. She'd found a record stack and player in a part of the house she
could get to and brought it downstairs. She came to the conclusion that moping
about her current situation did nothing for her demeanor. She'd return to
Beowulf Hollow right after Press Week. Screw New York. Benjamin could have his
fame on the fruits of her labor. Happiness
mattered
more than the cover of Vogue or any other fashion magazine. Her mother could
have easily taken the world by storm, yet she never bothered.

What
good was fame if you were miserable like Benjamin?

She'd also
invest in a big German shepherd to bite the man in the balls should he attempt
to kidnap her again. When he showed his glowering face again, she'd demand
another contract. No matter how good his manipulating digits were, all she
wanted from him was a professional relationship. To her delight, the elevator
dinged and his royal
highn
-ass strolled in. His
clothes were rumpled and his skin paler than usual. She recognized
post-inebriation from her wild parties with Paul. He placed a newspaper at the
end of the fabric cutting table.

"How's your
hangover?" She said it a little louder than she needed. A little fun at
his expense was going to feel so good.

"I don't
have a hangover." Benjamin winched and rubbed his temples, amplifying his
outright lie.

"Right, and
is it the latest fashion to stumble home with your pants around your ankles and
your dick in your hand?" She rolled out a bolt of red fabric.
"Which, by the way, the title of this song totally fits."

"You
couldn't handle what I've got."

"You're
right." She wiggled her fingers, enjoying her exchange with Benjamin far
too much. "My hands are way too big."

"Enough!"

"Aren't we
touchy this
morning.
" She rolled her eyes and
started to sketch out the pattern on the fabric. Their usual banter had turned
south quickly. "I'm running low of herbal tea in my suite. Do you think
you could send Ginger to get more?"

"No."
He turned away. "She quit."

"What?"
Mary's panic level skyrocketed. Ginger had been her buffer against him. Her
leaving explained his—and her—lapse in judgment the other day. "Well, then
I'll just have to run out myself. You're obviously in no shape to go anywhere."
Was she was trapped in this house with just him?

"You're not
leaving my sight." He tore her away from the table and squeezed her by the
shoulders. "Do you hear me? I can't lose you again."

"You're
hurting me." Tears welled in her eyes. His touch had never caused her pain
and the hungry gaze he usually regarded her with was replaced with a manic
glare. Had he gone mad?

Benjamin’s eyes
softened and he released her as if burned, backing away. "Just finish your
work."

"No."
She stepped back, her hand reaching for her scissors. The Jekyll and Hyde act
scared her to the core.

"What?"
Blotches of red flared up on his pale skin.

"You—you
burned my contract. I'm not going to stay here with you."

He growled and
pinched his nose. "You're not leaving and that's final. I won't allow it.
You're mine.
Forever."
He stormed away.

She gasped for
air, not realizing she had held her breath. The rattling in her chest was the
only sound in the room beyond the needle of the record player skipping off the
end of the vinyl. She gazed up to the ceiling. "What do I do, mother?
Please tell me how I get out of this."

Something had
changed last night. She’d seen his limo leave but had no clue where he'd gone,
only the state he returned in. The scissors fell from her hand as she sobbed. No
one could save her from him.

Mary wiped her
tears away and steadied her breathing. No good would come of her breaking down.
The focus had to remain on finishing her work. Scissors back in hand, she
walked to the cutting table. Her gaze fell on the newspaper Benjamin had
brought. A black and white photo of her shop graced the first page of the
Beowulf Hollow Bugle, complete with the sign Ginger had said Benjamin placed in
the window. Why did he have a paper from a place he referred to as
Bumfuck
Hollow?

****

One mistake
after another.
Hours after he left her to her task, Benjamin sat in the dark in his bedroom with
the shades pulled shut to block any daylight from leaking in. A drink in his
hand, he shifted in the chair. Nothing had prepared him for the deep-seeded
ache the little minx in his work room gifted him with. His obsession with Mary
Becken
had reached an all-time low. All the women he'd been
drawn to in the past had flaunted their figures with no regard for modesty,
revealing excess skin through v-neck lines and thigh-high slits. She covered
every square inch and yet the sensuality she oozed made him lose all
rationality. Every little jab she made set his loins on fire. His fingernails
dug in the fabric of the chair. He had to make up for all his mistakes.

He dialed his
phone, murmuring pleas as the other line rang.

"Hello?"

"Ginger?"

"Yes."
She paused. "Mr.
Elstiltzkin
?"

"If I said how
sorry I was for the way I treated you, would you agree to come work for me
again?" His heart sank as a big sigh came through the receiver.

"It was
never about that. I knew how tyrannical you were when I applied for the job. The
way you treated her—" She cleared her throat. "You love her."

He stood in a
flash, intent on defending his actions. Instead, a dizzy spell had him flopping
back into the chair. "How do you know?" For a woman who held no
interest in bedding him, Ginger showed remarkable skills in seeing through the
wall he'd built to protect his heart.

"I listened
to you. All your drunken ramblings at night, when you thought I'd
retired." She cleared her throat. "It wasn't just the pictures. I saw
your scrapbook. Look, through the years I was your assistant, I saw the influx
of women in your life. They cared about you as much as you cared about them,
but Mary? Who are you trying to kid? That's why I quit. She's not a conquest,
Mr.
Elstiltzkin
. She deserves better." Her heavy
sigh nearly deafened his ear. "You deserve better. Goodbye."

"Ginger?"
He dropped the phone as the disconnect tone rang in his ears. He trusted her
more than any other assistant and her painful recollection of the truth burned
his soul. When news had filtered in that the shop in Beowulf Hollow had
reopened, he’d been curious. Miriam
Becken
, Mary's
mother, had an eye for sewing any material. Rumors around the small town told
that she created her own textiles from next to nothing. She only catered to
young girls seeking a unique dress for the prom. At first, he became
jealous,
until he realized none of the clothing she handmade
ever left the mountain town.