Taming the Curator (Encounters #2), page 6
Walking into what used to be home, I dropped my bags in my room and then went to the kitchen. I had called ahead to have Rita stock the house with a few items, enough to get by for a week—I hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer. Pulling things out of the fridge, I made a sandwich with Italian cold cuts, cheese and a fresh roll. Then bless Rita, I opened a bottle of my favorite red wine from Pinard Vineyard. It tasted divine, if only I was sharing it with Pierce back at his place watching the sun go down. But no, I was in a place where I felt unloved, unwanted and about to make funeral arrangements for the woman that used me for a better social standing. And if that wasn’t enough to make me feel uneasy, I was about to meet her mother and daughter for the first time in a few days.
Wanting to be back in bed with Pierce, to be in his arms, I missed him after only a few hours. I longed to talk to him, but not knowing what to say, I just texted him and then turned off my cell:
Family emergency. Be back within a week or so.
I hoped that Pierce would be okay with my disappearance. I hoped that he was fine with my brief words. I hoped that he cared about me—maybe worried about me. I wasn’t playing games to test him, I simply didn’t know him well enough to tell him my sob story. He probably didn’t want to hear it anyway. I was probably just a piece of ass to him and then again, something told me that wasn’t true. It was something about the way he wanted my attention. The way he said my name. At first I thought maybe he said it so many times—to the point that it annoyed me—so he remembered who he was with. But then, I listened to the way he said it. It was commanding. It was controlling. It was possibly a way to put me in my place. Yes, that is how it sounded when he added the word mine. Suddenly, it wasn’t so offensive to hear my name. It made me feel special, wanted, loved in his sexy voice. I played our moments together over and over in my head to help me get through my situation, looking forward to returning to him and hoping that he’d still want me.
Two weeks later, standing in front of the door to my large, one-room studio apartment I was ready to get back to my life. Turning the key in the lock, a shock hit me with great force as I opened the door to nothing. It was empty! The sofa, coffee table, two antique slipper chairs as well as my Parisian and zebra area rug that once filled my sitting area were gone! Moving into my kitchenette space, I opened the cabinet doors to nothing… not that I had much in them to begin with, but there were a few favorite items. Looking toward the wall that housed my Murphy bed, I walked over and pulled it down to find that the bedding was stripped. My last stop was my bathroom, but I didn’t need to step through that doorway, I knew that it would be empty.
Standing in the middle of my apartment, glancing around the open space, the only item that was visible was a medium sized, rectangular, pale blue Tiffany jewelry box with its signature white ribbon. An envelope sat next to it on my kitchen island. I recognized the handwriting immediately from museum documents.
Turning the envelope over in my hand, I pulled up the flap and removed a single, discolored card that appeared to be an old library card telling me where to find a certain book. I wasn’t sure what the significance was, but after turning it over his message on the back was clear—a simple demand:
Come home, Chloe! Your Pierce
Setting the card down, I slipped the white ribbon from the box, removed the lid and found a pale blue, suede pouch inside. Lifting out the soft bag, I untied the strings and gingerly emptied the contents onto the counter. Inside was an extremely long strand of sterling silver beads, varying in diameters. A beautiful peace offering?
Did he need to give me a peace offering? What had he done? Yes, part of me wanted to fight his decision. To be mad. He took away my freedom. My independence. But something deep down inside of me liked it. I needed his dominance. His control. I craved it. I craved him! Did he do anything wrong? No, he wanted me. How can you be upset with someone that wanted you to live with him, to spend every night and every day with him? I had never had that and I so desperately wanted it. So no, he didn’t need to give me a peace offering. I just wanted his love and I was ready to accept it.
Grabbing the note, attaching the necklace snuggly around my neck, I hailed a taxi to his apartment… our apartment and along the way I texted:
Coming home, Mr. Marten! Your Chloe
Chapter Eight
Pierce…
Two weeks I went without any communication with Chloe after her one and only text and then to my delight I received a message that she was coming to me… coming home. At first I was glad to hear from her, then mad that I couldn’t reach her and then worried about her. Fortunately, part of my unease was appeased when I found out that she was all right thanks to my amazing new assistant. Since Hannah had been working as a museum docent for so long, she had made many friends—even in the human resources department. That benefit had provided me with basic information about my Chloe and that she had asked for temporary leave. That news gave me hope. If she was planning to return to the museum, surely she would be returning to me as well. And then again, I couldn’t be certain of that last thought and it had me going fucking crazy.
I wasn’t used to my feelings, my thoughts—no woman had ever affected me.
No woman had ever ignored me.
No woman had ever dismissed me.
No woman had ever abandoned me.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, one woman had neglected me all of my life. I had been abandoned by the first woman in my existence. Learning that unconditional love was not part of my mother’s character had me suspicious of all women, and I vowed that I would never anticipate receiving it from any other woman. Yes, I, Pierce Xavier Marten, was the product of two people in the world that should never have been allowed to procreate.
My socialite, globetrotting, selfish parents deposited me at a prestigious all-boys boarding school as soon as I was old enough to be accepted ripping me from the only person I shared a bond with, my sister Jet. They visited me on all of the appropriate parent days to show their false loyalty to me—at least I got to see Jet in the beginning. Of course once she was sent off to an appropriate all-girls school we only saw each other when we were allowed to come home on holidays and summer vacation, even if they were not home. There was always a full staff present in their house to care for us in their absence. My parents were anything but loving.
And it was thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Xavier Marten the Third that I never allowed anyone in. That I learned to be independent. That I felt the need to be in control. So if I was attracted to a woman or just in need of sexual pleasures; I set the pace, I told them the score, I fucked the woman, and in the end I left the woman. There was never to be any emotional ties. They were just objects to satisfy my appetite.
However, all of my vows… ideals about relationships with women changed the moment Chloe walked into my office, sang her way into my bed, and ultimately into my heart. She had turned my world completely upside down within one fucking week… who was I kidding, one day. My brain refused to let me forget her for long lengths of time. It was even worse in her absence. She had given me a taste of her and what we could be together and then totally ripped it away from me. Her disappearance made me long for her to be in my arms even more. It also had me plotting my course of action when she returned.
She may have been the one in charge at the moment, deciding to shut me out while she handled her family crisis, but I refused to let her set the bar when she came back. Figuring out how to make her completely dependent on me became part of my daily routine along with securing artwork for a new exhibit for the following year. With the help of my very efficient Hannah working diligently alongside of me, I had time to make lists and explore the internet.
And while my focus should’ve been on researching subjects that related to my PhD dissertation, I found myself on BDSM sites. Knowledge is key to any situation and I had never found a woman that was so fond of being spanked. Hell, when I used the crop on her, I went at it blindly. We had not talked about wants, needs, desires, limits, but she let me know from the first time that I crossed her luscious ass with my bare palm that she liked being punished. The crop just seemed to fall into the picture the morning I stormed into her apartment. I didn’t think, I reacted. But it was Chloe who spurred me on, slipping to the floor and baring her lovely cun… kitty to me. I loved her moans and the power I felt over her. Once it was over, I was concerned that maybe I had been too rough and I remembered hearing about safe-words—something we never discussed. I knew that we couldn’t move forward in that form of sexual play without a conversation… without trust and commitment.
Commitment. I realized on my time alone that I wanted that with Chloe even more than I had originally thought. I wanted her at my side… in my bed—both day and night. I hated that I had woken up to an empty space beside me after our first night together. No, that needed to be dealt with further. She knew what it did to me—how upset I was about her departure—and had apologized profusely, both verbally and physically. But I could not run that risk again. It had opened up such deep wounds that I thought had healed with time—oh, how I was wrong.
So while she was away, I set the ball in motion. Slipping her landlord a hefty sum, he gladly broke her lease and allowed me into her apartment. Then with the help of a hired moving crew, her belongings were packed and moved to my place within twenty-four hours. All that I left behind was a gift and note that instructed her where she was to be, with me. And after everything was relocated within my apartment—thanks to a high-priced New York interior designer I had flown in—complete with our furnishings blended, all I had to do was sit back and wait. Yes, wait for her to come home to me… to her new home… our home together.
And thankfully, within a week of setting the scene, her text arrived:
Coming home, Mr. Marten! Your Chloe
When Chloe walked in through the front door I was sitting on a sofa facing the door; shirtless, barefoot, wearing only lounge pants and my glasses. Looking intently in my direction, she immediately began stripping off her clothes—little by little tossing them as she made her way to me. When she finally reached me, I could see that she was wearing my gift. However, to my surprise and delight, she had turned the long silver strand of beads into a choker… perhaps it was signifying a collar (yes, I had read about collaring in my online studies), and it made my cock twitch.
Lowering herself between my legs, I fingered the necklace and she leaned her cheek on my thigh—as if awaiting my command. And then bam, it hit me straight in the chest. Chloe had my drawing permanently etched into her flesh.
“Chloe, it’s beautiful,” I said as I drew my finger along every element that I had created and I felt her nod her head in agreement. I had a feeling that she was smiling although I couldn’t see her face. She had pleased me in ways I wasn’t sure I could express. It was all fresh and new to me and I loved that she was marked.
Marked with my name.
Marked that she was mine.
“You’re mine, Chloe.”
I needed to say it out loud for her, as well as for myself, and once again she nodded. But her silent gesture wasn’t enough for me, she needed to know that I was in control. It was time that I finish what I had started, there was no turning back. Full speed ahead, I was determined that we were going to test the waters together and hopeful that we would come out victorious. Each of us getting what we wanted under my command.
So lovingly, I stroked her hair a few times, feeling its texture and weight. And then I gathered a fistful of her hair, twisting it tightly around my hand, and turned her head to my erection.
“Suck me, Chloe.”
Eager to please me further, she slipped her soft fingers into the top of my pants. I lifted my hips and she pulled them down my thighs, freeing my hard length. Watching her, she stroked me, up and down with a firm grip, twirling her thumb in my pre-cum before taking me into her warm and inviting mouth. Pulling back, she licked me up and down, swirling her tongue around the head repeatedly and then sucked me back in.
“God… I love that mouth of yours, Chloe… Welcome home, Chloe… oh… that feels so fucking good… but I want… need to be buried in you, Chloe.”
Crawling up onto my lap, she straddled my thighs and placed my erection at her entrance. Desperate to be inside of her, I reached for a condom that I had placed strategically between the cushions. Her hand instantly reached out to still my grasp.
“If you’re clean, you don’t need that, I’m on the pill.”
Knowing that I was, I took full advantage of a pure connection—something I never allowed before and let her slide down my cock. The way her silky walls gripped me so tightly as she took in every inch that I had to give, she had my eyes rolling back in my head. What a fucking amazing sensation!
Caught up in the moment, I captured her lips and began to fuck her mouth with my tongue as I growled.
“Ride me, Chloe.”
“Yes, Mr. Marten,” she said in a low breathy voice against my lips, rising up and falling down my length perfectly.
Grinding my pelvis into her, I grabbed her hips forcefully, digging my fingers into her flesh and took over control. In and out of her tight, wetness I plunged enjoying the way she felt. Adding in the fact that I was fucking her bareback, the experience was like no other sexual encounter I’ve ever had in my past.
“I love fucking your cunt, Chloe… Do you love it, Chloe?”
“Yes, Mr. Marten… my… my kitty loves you.”
I knew she was correcting me, but I didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if she was trying to tell me what to do. No, she was just simply reminding me that she found the word offensive. I needed to remember that as much as she needed to know that I was not pleased with her disappearance and that we would be doing things my way. I would be in charge… in control, but at the same time I had to comply with her limits and be in tune to her dislikes as well as her likes. I think I had a pretty good grasp of her likes at that moment.
With ragged breath, we both moaned and panted as I drove into her faster and harder, taking her right to the edge. And just when I felt her beginning to pulsate around my cock, I lifted her off of me.
“Get on your knees, Chloe. Suck me.”
And as I had instructed, she moved back onto the floor and perched on her knees in front of me. Then obeying perfectly, she took me deep into the back of her throat—sucking my cock like she couldn’t get enough. She had me so fucking turned on and I tried my hardest to prolong the pleasure that I was certain she loved giving me.
“You like tasting yourself on me don’t you, Chloe? It tastes so good doesn’t it, Chloe? Suck harder, Chloe… oh, that’s right… suck me dry… oh so good, Chloe.”
Unable to hold off any longer, I came so fucking hard in her mouth and watched as she continued to suck me… licking me until I was clean. Fuck! I had definitely found the right woman. And while it appeared as if she had submitted to me, in truth, I had submitted to being with only one woman… only Chloe.
“You’ve tamed me, Chloe,” I said stroking her golden mane as she remained on her knees with her head resting on my thighs once more.
Looking again at my handy work, I reached down and re-traced the ink on her gorgeous body. Turning her head at an angle, her wicked smile greeted me.
“There is no taming you, Pierce. I like you wild… but… but only for me,” she uttered hesitantly.
Pulling her up into my arms, I walked her to the bedroom.
“You’re the only girl in the world for me, Chloe. Isn’t that what you told me? What you sang to me?”
Chloe nodded “yes” and then laughed, “Are you going to sing that for me, Pierce?”
“Believe me you don’t want to hear that, but I am going to do something for you, Chloe…” I stopped speaking as we enter the bedroom.
Nodding toward a special white box I had wrapped strategically with four red silk ribbons and placed in the middle of our bed. Looking from the large box and back to my face in a questioning grin, I assured her.
“Yes, Chloe, I’m going to love you just like you want to be loved forever. Yes, I want forever with you, Chloe.”
Chapter Nine
Chloe…
Forever, the word, seemed to mean more to Pierce as we settled into living together. At first I wasn’t certain of his use of forever and mine—I wondered if they were just a sex thing, said in the heat of the moment. But as I heard it often, I took it to be something close to declaring his love to me. Yet, it still baffled me. I hadn’t had anyone interested in me being part of their life on a day to day basis since I was very young. And while I loved it, in the back of my mind I questioned if forever was a true word. Would it last? Would it come true?
I had been on my own before, I would survive. But losing Pierce seemed like it would be worse than losing my parents. Their love was forced, at least my mother’s was. I was learning more about my father with my mother’s death. Unfortunately, he never showed me in the way I needed—further making me question men and their actions. I was pretty certain that his indiscretions allowed her to further dictate their marriage… arrangement. But I didn’t completely understand, it was his money not hers. He had a prenuptial drawn up and she had signed it. So why did he go along with everything that she wanted? Why did he turn away from me? Why did he put her first? I was his flesh and blood, wasn’t I? I began to wonder until he died and I found out that he had left our family home to me.
I believe he signed it over to me to insure that Claudette couldn’t have me removed from the place we called home. It didn’t work, I could only handle so much of her abusive comments and wild behavior. She had totally lost it once he was gone, floating from one man to the next. Once she had attempted to attract wealthy older men, but not with her own money. No, she went after younger men. Which wasn’t a bad thing in the beginning, but then she latched on to the wrong one, a creepy one. And I knew it from the minute she moved him into my home. Blinded by lust—she dismissed his lack of job—in favor of having fun spending her monies with abandon. She didn’t seemed to mind that she paid.
