Love Meets You part 2

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9.

* Clover *

Bentley clasped Clover’s hand tightly, leading her through the house. For the first time, she could get the lay of the land — so to speak. He hustled her down a wide set of stairs, but she saw a spacious living room, a long corridor with two doors before turning left down a dark hall. After descending a few steps, he used a key to enter the dreary Stepford wives’ dining area.

He seated her at the table asking, “Do I need to restrain you, Clover?”

She shook her head with a smile even if her heart wanted to run away without her, “No, sir.”

He looked doubtful, producing a single zip tie, “The last few days have been nice, but tonight is too important.” he placed her left hand on the armrest, “You can still eat.”

She schooled her face, hoping it came across as accepting. His eyes darkened with lust when he tied her to the chair. His tells were becoming clear the longer she spent in his company, and it grossed her out. He enjoyed her bound, unable to touch him while he had unfettered access to her body.

Kyrell emerged from the other entrance, all four captives filing in with their blue dresses. She kept her eyes off them, knowing Bentley missed nothing. Once the women were situated, he spoke to Man-Bun Guy before taking off. Kyrell locked the door behind him, standing sentry.

Silence didn’t linger for long. Reese sat on the opposite side, looking pissed. She hadn’t forgotten about Reese exactly, only her bizarre compulsion to please Bentley.

“It won’t last,” she hissed, big blue eyes manic, “Sir will realize who deserves his love. He’ll bury you in the ground where no one can hear your screams. He’s done it before.”

“Enough,” Kyrell strode forward, “Be sweet, Reese. There’s no competition. Sir knows how loyal you are.”

Clover didn’t dare stir up trouble, even though Reese’s ghoulish warning sent shivers down her spine. If anything, she hoped Bentley showed Reese the affection he’d wasted on her. She felt pity for the disillusioned girl, empathetic to her predicament. How long had she withstood Bentley’s perverse ways? Their physical similarities hadn’t escaped her attention either.

“I’m sorry, low blood sugar, sir,” she gave him a dazzling grin only he turned his back on her to shoot Clover a condescending smirk.

Reese huffed in frustration, glaring daggers. She almost reassured the nut job she had no designs on Bentley and yet, this was her chance to confront Kyrell. She tried to not play the — YOU FUCKED ME OVER — card, but failed.

“I can’t believe I made out with you, asshole,” she muttered under her breath, “You’ll get yours.”

“Glac le do bhotún, love” He shrugged, returning to his post.

“He said, accept your mistake,” Delia’s flat tone startled her.

“Quiet,” Man-Bun Guy ordered.

Wow, she understood Gaelic? Did Delia know someone bought her as if she weren’t a person with hope and dreams? She parted her lips, prepared to risk Kyrell’s wrath to warn them when the door opened, and three men plus Bentley stepped through. The old man trailed behind them, carting dinner.

“Well, well,” a tall ebony-skinned stranger in a suit cut to fit his stick figure drawled as he took in the room, “Isn’t this a delightful sight?”

“Please join me,” Bentley sat at the head and the visitor slouched in the open seat beside Delia while the others slunk into the shadows, “Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure. Hello Delia,” the man cooed with obvious lust, raking his dark brown eyes up and down her pale form, “I’m Mr. J, but you will call me Sir.”

Delia smiled demurely, “Good evening, sir.”

The chef dished a meal of chicken and a mix of roasted vegetables, and her mouth watered at the prospect of consuming something other than soup and bland crackers, ready for protein. Nervously, she waited like the other women for orders to eat. She was nothing if not a fast learner.

“You’re all so fucking hot,” the weirdo hummed, before zeroing in on her, “What’s your name, baby?” The chandeliers highlighted his shiny bald dome when he tilted his head.

She glanced at Bentley, who gave a slight nod although she caught the tightening around his mouth, “Clover, sir.”

“Of course you are, with that Irish hair and fair skin. Your eyes are that freaky green too. You’re a lucky man, Mr. B.” He leered, fiddling with an expensive gold timepiece on his left wrist.

“She is special, Mr. J.”

Ugh, her stomach revolted as the men picked apart their attributes as if they weren’t in the same room. They were nothing but objects to the sick fuckers. How much had Bentley gained from kidnapping women? After a while, Alisha, with her violet orbs, caught Mr. J’s attention, and he began negotiations for both girls.

“All sweets are spoken for,” Bentley’s tone turned terse, “You came for Delia.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. J winked at the girl sitting ram-rod straight beside him, placing a hand on her shoulder. The woman held perfectly still, her features slack as if her mind were elsewhere. “I have a thing for blue-eyed blondes. And yours are the deepest color, like navy. Perfection.”

“I’m glad they please you, sir,” she replied, snapping out of her funk.

Bentley picked up his fork, “You may eat ladies.”

Clover’s hand shook as she cut into her chicken one-handed. There was a heavy silence as everyone dug into their plates. She swallowed, not tasting anything. The man kept checking her out, and she feared the sexy gown Bentley made her wear had him overly curious.

She placed her fork down as the women finished, stiffening when Bentley frowned. What did she do wrong? Panic shortened her breaths for several tense seconds. He had been so civil lately, and she wondered if he waited for her to interact with others to judge if she changed.

“Emmett,” he called to Man-Bun Guy, “Please return everyone but Clover and Delia to their rooms. Meet us in the den when you’re done.”

Reese glared hatefully, Bentley noticed but didn’t correct her, thankfully. She wanted to get through tonight without violence. Bentley flipped out his knife, causing Mr. J to chuckle when he cut her loose.

“Is she a wild one?” The asshole wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Aren’t they all?” Bentley tightly smiled, taking hold of Clover’s upper arm. He waved at Kyrell to escort Delia.

The procession of men’s shoes echoed on the tiled floor as they took her into a room rich with brown and tan colors. Bentley relaxed in a low leather chair and pointed to his feet because of course that was where she belonged. Keeping a straight face, she knelt gracefully. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Delia doing the same in front of Mr. J, who sat a few feet away.

“Drink?” Bentley offered.

She spotted two unfamiliar men and Kyrell standing in the doorway. There was no escape.

After Kyrell poured scotches for them both, they discussed Delia as if she were invisible. Her skin itched with the filth Mr. J spewed. He lived in New York, his money coming from some oil well overseas. She absorbed the information, hopeful it would come useful down the line.

“I keep my pets in a secret location where I’m their sole provider. If anything were to happen to me, they would starve to death. I sold off a couple of slaves who bored me to tears after a few months before finding Meet Sweet. It’d be fucking unreal to get my dick sucked whenever and where ever without worrying she’ll bolt first chance she gets.”

“Oh, Delia would never do that, would you darling?” Bentley absently stroked Clover’s hair, setting his now empty glass aside.

“Never, sir,” Delia answered agreeably, giving Mr. J a flirty smile, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Sir. Your pleasure gives me joy.”

“Would you suck me off right now?” he challenged.

“I would love to, sir,” she turned, kneeling to face his groin, “I’m yours.”

“Clover,” Bentley murmured, ripping her attention away from the icky scene unfolding before her, “Sit on my lap.”

His arms circled her waist, tugging her against his chest. She focused on the growing bulge in his slacks, the sound of a zipper, and a guttural moan from Mr. J causing goose-bumps. I can’t do this, she thought, panic racing through her veins, How can I help her when she’s so far gone?

“Focus on me, Clover,” He pushed her chin up with a finger, peering into her teary eyes, “There is nothing to be ashamed of here. Delia enjoys pleasuring men. You look so beautiful tonight pet…” he trailed off, running a lock of her hair through his fingers, “When I have meetings, I would like to have you by my side. I’d give you everything if you share yourself with me.”

She faltered, not knowing what to say or do. His cool blues fixated on her face. Could she join in the hedonism without it affecting her? Bentley constantly told her to be sweet, to submit to what he needed, and he would do anything for her, but was it simple coercion? Confusion and fear warred inside her mind, making her twitchy.

He nipped her bottom lip. She tasted him along with the alcohol when she licked the offending flesh. “You’re mine now. We’ll go at our own pace. One day you’ll trust me and live life how it should be. Whatever your little heart desires will be at your fingertips. I’ll fix your preconceived notions of love. Close your eyes and appreciate how you make me want you.”

“Sir?”

“Drop your guard for one minute. Feel me. Seal those pretty peepers, pet.”

Oookay… she slowly shut her eyes with his hand softly caressing her burning skin. Bentley kissed her again, rooting her in place. He was both patient and alluring, stroking her neck while raining light kisses down her throat, cheeks, even the sensitive spot behind her ear. Places which caused her to shiver with anticipation where his sinful mouth would latch on to next. Her breathing stuttered when her pussy woke, wetting her thighs.

Slurping sounded in the room and Mr. J cursed, breaking through the fog clouding her lust addled mind. No, no, no! How was it possible for her to be turned on? Delia and Mr. J’s screwing around became louder, and she heard him order her to undress.

“Concentrate on my touch,” Bentley’s erection pressed against her leg, “I know how strong you are, but you don’t have to be with me. I’ll take care of you. Always. Let go. Kiss me.”

She parted her lips for him, hating how his deep, smooth voice tugged at her core. She squeezed her legs together as her juices stained the dress since she wasn’t wearing panties. His sensuous, slow kiss drew something out of her.

Forbidden excitement.

“Fuck,” Bentley growled, jerking her against his pelvis, “I wish I could bottle your scent. See how hard I am? You did that. Are you my good girl?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered, keeping her eyes tightly closed.

“Soon, you’ll stop fighting our connection, and when you do, I’ll make you scream my name. You will beg me to kiss you like this every hour of the day, and fuck if I won’t give you anything you ask for. There isn’t shit I’d deny you.” He swore to her while running his hands all over her squirming figure.

Find relief in submission…

Release your fears…

You are his to protect…

Accept your nature…

She returned his heated petting, her subconscious warning some nefarious shit was going on. His fingers dug into the base of her hairline to tilt her head back, his tongue plunging deeper, harder. Right then, she knew she was well and truly fucked. There was no buffer between the intense emotions or feelings she battled, lost in Bentley Jarvis’s promises and arms.

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