Stepbrother Commands (His Twisted Game, Book Seven) (3 page)

I’d felt so special last night, with Cole
bringing me here, doing what he did to me in the hot tub. Now I just felt confused and sad.

I reached over and grabbed the remote off
the bedside table, hoping the sound of the television would drown out some of
the loneliness that permeated the room. The television was tuned to CNBC, and I gasped as a picture of Cole
flashed across the screen.

“… have plagued the company recently,
including an announcement from the rival MatchMe app this morning that they
would be monetizing their subscription numbers through paid plans, leaving some
investors wary of buying into the Buchanan Enterprises stock. And with news of Cole Buchanan’s arrest
for assault on a police officer last night, these fears are only becoming more
real. In the bond market…”

The perky blonde on the TV droned on
about something else, and the photo on the screen switched.

I remembered something I’d heard about
Cole’s company once, on one of those long, lonely nights after he’d left. I’d been up in my room, googling his
name, and there’d been an article about how Cole’s dating app had millions of
subscribers, and yet there didn’t seem to be a clear plan on how to monetize
it. Cole must have been planning
to add more features to his app for paid subscribers in an effort to create
revenue. And it seemed as if
Jeffrey had beaten him to it.

And
it’s all your fault,
a
voice in my head whispered.

The phone on the nightstand rang then, the
shrill sound piercing the air.

I hesitated for a moment, not sure if I
should answer.

This was Cole’s room. Whoever was calling would most
certainly be calling for him.

Unless it was Cole.

I answered.

“Hello?” My voice sounded scratchy and thick with sleep, and I
cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello?”

“Ms. Buchanan?” a brisk voice asked.

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Carla Lott, from reception at
Buchanan Enterprises. Mr. Buchanan
requests a meeting with you in his office, today at ten o’clock.”

“Oh.” My mouth went dry. It sounded so official. Why
wasn’t Cole calling me himself? Was he getting ready to fire me and send me on my way? Was he having the receptionist call me
because he didn’t want me to ask questions?

“Shall I confirm?” the receptionist
asked. Her tone was pleasant, but
there was a tiny current of impatience right woven under the surface.

“Yes.” I did my best to match her professional tone. “You can tell Mr. Buchanan he can
expect me at ten o’clock.”

I hung up the phone and took a deep
breath.

Whatever Cole wanted with me, I’d find
out soon enough.

**

At 9:55, I breezed into Cole’s building,
my new employee badge giving me access to the elevators without having to go
through security. When I got to
his floor, it was exactly ten o’clock.

As I passed the reception desk, I gave
the receptionist – a new woman I’d never seen before-a nod. She must have somehow known who I was, because she let me
pass by without questions.

The hallways of Buchanan Enterprises were
suspiciously quiet, and I wondered if everyone was on edge because of what had
happened with Jeffrey and with Cole’s arrest. I paused outside of Cole’s office door, wondering if I
should have told the receptionist to ask him if he was ready to see me.

That’s
silly,
I told
myself. You work here.
And
he’s expecting you.

I knocked on the door, but the knock
hardly made a sound. I swallowed
and tried again. This time it was
almost too loud.

“Come in,” Cole said.

I opened the door.

He was standing by his desk, his back to
me, looking out across the city.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind
me.

He didn’t turn around.

Instead, he just stood there, making me
wait. The silence permeated the
room, thick and dripping with meaning. Was this some kind of game he was playing? Wanting me to talk first? Or was he buying time, because he was dreading the fact that
he was going to have to fire me?

I decided I was in no position to be coy.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked.

He turned, his brow furrowing as he saw
what I was wearing. It was a pair
of jeans and a black sweater. All
of the clothes Kalia had bought me had been ruined in his apartment, and the
only things I’d had in the hotel room were the things I’d taken from our house
in Jersey. I didn’t have anything
that was appropriate for work.

“I’m sorry about the way I’m dressed,” I
said, thrusting my chin in the air and pretending it didn’t bother me. “All of my clothes were at your
apartment.”

He didn’t say anything, just let his eyes
slide up and down my body again before turning back around to look out the
window.

I waited, not saying anything, until
finally Cole turned around and walked toward me. He was sexy as all hell, looking nothing like a man who’d
only had a few hours of sleep after being involved in an altercation with the
police. Instead, he looked
commanding, in control, his hair perfectly styled and his eyes bright. He’d shaved since last night, and his
face and jaw were smooth, his skin flawless. I resisted the urge to reach up and touch my face where he’d
rubbed it raw last night with his stubble while he kissed me.

I flushed as he pushed his body up
against mine, pinning me against the door.

His lips were centimeters from mine, so
close I could almost feel the electricity that radiated between us, binding us
together.

I closed my eyes, my chest heaving and my
heart pounding as I waited for his kiss.

But he didn’t kiss me.

Instead, I heard the click of the lock as
he reached behind me and locked the door.

My eyes opened.

He was staring at me, his blue eyes icy
hot.

“There are clothes for you in the
bathroom.”

“What?”

“There is an outfit for you in the
bathroom. Please go change.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “Okay.”

He was still standing in front of me,
still pinning me up against the door. I had to brush my chest against his to move away from him. His chest was hard, like stone, and I
bit my lip at the rush of longing and want that overwhelmed my body.

When I got to the bathroom, I shut the
door behind me and took a deep breath.

Hanging on the back of the door was a dry
cleaner bag, and inside was an outfit – a black skirt, a button-up white
shirt, a lacey black push-up bra, a thong, and a pair of black stilettos. I ran
my hand over the luxurious materials, wondering if Cole had picked them out
himself.

I changed quickly, putting the outfit on
and sliding into the shoes. I
regarded myself in the mirror. Again,
the clothes were a bit too small. While on the hanger they looked like they would be perfect for an
office, on me they seemed a little too revealing. The shirt clung to my breasts, causing tiny gap to appear
between the second and third buttons. The skirt was beautifully cut on a
diagonal with a slit up the back – but it hit just above my knee. And the shoes, while expensive
Loubotins made of black leather that felt like butter on my feet, were five
inches high and made the skirt seem even shorter than it was.

There were no stockings, no pantyhose, no
tights. Wearing something on my
legs had always seemed old-fashioned to me on the rare occasions I had to dress
up, so I never had. But now I longed
to be covered up.

I sighed and stepped back into Cole’s
office.

He was standing at his desk, looking down
at some documents.

He looked up at me, and I expected him to
tell me that what I had on was completely inappropriate, that I needed to
change back into my jeans and sweater, or head out and find something else to
wear.

But instead he dropped the papers he was
holding onto his desk.

“Please stand in the corner, Avery.”

“What?” I asked, yanking at the bottom of my skirt.

“Go. Stand. In. The. Corner.”

His voice was so commanding, so full of
decisiveness that I found myself walking over to the corner. He watched me, his eyes following my
path to make sure I obeyed him.

All the silence and staring was beginning
to put me on edge. The first
shiver of anticipation slid up my spine as I realized this wasn’t a meeting
about work at all. This was
something else.

Cole crossed the room in long strides
until he was standing right in front of me, just like he’d done a few moments
ago in front of his office door. He reached down and began unbuttoning my shirt, starting from the
bottom, his fingers deft and controlled. His eyes stayed on mine, and my breath snagged in my chest.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Shh.” The side of his mouth twitched up
into a half-grin, making it clear that he was enjoying this, that he loved
being in control of me.

When he was done unbuttoning my whole
shirt, he grabbed the two halves of it and tied them together right under my
breasts. The tightening of the
fabric right at the band of my bra pushed my tits together, forcing them to
swell out of their cups.

“Cole –”

“Quiet.” His tone was more stern this time, more commanding. He pressed a finger against my lips,
then slid it down over my chin, over my collarbone, down over the swell of my
breasts. His touch felt like a
torch against my skin, blazing a searing trail across my body.

When he got to my waist, he slid both
hands up under my skirt, rubbing my butt cheeks roughly before grabbing the
sides of my panties. He pulled
them down, sliding them over my thighs and down over my ankles.

“Lift up your feet,” he growled, and I
lifted them up, one by one, as he removed my thong. He stood back up and slipped it into his pocket.

“Do you know what almost cost me?” he
asked, his voice gruff.

“What?” I asked, startled.

“When you met with Jeffrey and he stole
your phone. Do you know what that
almost cost me?”

I shook my head. His hands were moving over my neck,
pushing my hair off my shoulders, and his touch on my bare skin was distracting.

“You shouldn’t defy me,” he said huskily.

Then he grabbed the cups of my bra and
pulled them down roughly so that my breasts popped out. A quick second later, he hiked up my
skirt, so that my pussy was also exposed.

I went to push my skirt back down, but he
grabbed my wrists. “No,” he
breathed into my ear, so close that breath tickled my skin. “My rules.”

“What’s are the rules?” I whispered.

He kissed my neck softly. “The rules are that you have to stand
in the corner.” He kissed me
again, this time on my collarbone. “Just like this. With your
skirt up. And your bra down. Until I say you can move.” He kissed me on the mouth then, hard and
deep, leaving me breathless and dizzy. Then the turned around and moved back to
his desk.

I stood there, my nipples hardening in
the cool air of Cole’s office.

The blinds were open, and I glanced over
to the building across the street. I could make out a row of offices on the floor right across from us, and
my cheeks flamed, realizing that if anyone working in that building decided to
look out the window, they would see me, standing here, my half-naked body
exposed.

“Face forward,” Cole barked, and I
snapped my head back and stared straight ahead.

I wondered how long he would make me
stand here like this.

Five minutes?

Ten?

Forty?

My cheeks flamed and my pussy ached with
want.

But Cole carried on with his day as if
nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

He took calls, worked on his computer, typed
up documents.

Every so often, he would glance over at
me, making sure I was still standing there, facing forward, not moving. His eyes would rake over my body, and a
look of satisfaction would pass over his face, like he was enjoying knowing how
uncomfortable he was making me.

He made me wait for about an hour before he
finally stood up from his desk and walked over to me, and I let out a sigh of
relief, grateful that the torture was about to end. My legs were starting to ache from standing in the stilettos,
and I was so horny for him, so turned on that he was dominating me in this way,
that need radiated through my body almost unbearably.

But he wasn’t done with me yet.

Instead, he pushed my skirt up even
further, making sure he had full view of my bare pussy. Then he slid a finger down over my wet
slit, pushing it into my opening slightly before pulling it back out again.

I moaned and he slid his finger into my
mouth, making me taste myself.

“You like that, baby girl?” he asked, his
eyes wicked.