The Game by L.P. Lovell

3

The elevator doors close and now it’s just Preston and me on the rooftop. He cradles the champagne flute against his chest, watching me like a caged animal. While Tobias intimidates me, he strikes me as a man with rules. Overly controlled and poised. Preston, on the other hand, seems like the wild card of the two, and I’m not sure who is more dangerous...

Preston polishes off his drink, then places the empty glass on the table. “Let's be on our way then.”

Now? I have nothing with me. Surely they didn’t expect me to just leave with them. “I have to go to my apartment and—”

“You don't need anything but your lovely self.” His hand lands on the small of my back, forcing me to move. “And besides… It’s all been taken care of.”

I open my mouth to speak and he presses his finger to my lips, one brow raised. “No questions and complete submission, remember?”

What have I just agreed to?

We stop at the elevator and he swipes a card key through the reader. A dim green light blinks before the whir of the motor comes to life. Seven days. Starting at this very moment. I have no belongings with me, no one knows where I am. No one knows where I am... The doors to the elevator slowly part.

“People may wonder where I've disappeared to,” I say, following Preston inside.

He corners me against the wall and dips his face to my neck, inhaling. “Are you worried that we might do something awful to you?”

“No,” I lie. I try to breathe, to focus on something that isn't the heat of his body or the scent of his cologne.

His teeth nip at my ear. “Does it concern you that no one knows where you are...”

“I just...” I drag in a breath in a pitiful attempt to stop this suffocating feeling. “Don't want to worry my friends by disappearing for a week...”

“You don't have anyone who will care enough to even notice you're gone.”

And my heart stops its rhythmic drumming for a brief second. A trace of fear and undeniable hurt surface. He’s right. They could kill me, and no one would even notice.

“Complete submission means don't lie to me.” He moves back, his dark gaze locking with mine. The elevator continues to fall, passing each floor with a beep, and the longer he stares at me, the heavier I feel. “I...”

“We own you, Ella. For seven days, everything that you were no longer exists.”

* * *

The doorto the limo shuts behind Preston as he settles in to my right. Tobias is on my left, staring through the window. The car pulls off and my gaze focuses on the raised partition that separates us from the driver.

“The driver is aware of the situation,” Tobias says like he can read my mind. “Don’t worry.”

My chest grows tight as I consider how stupid it probably was for me to sign that contract, but then again, I am literally at the bottom of the barrel.

“I'm not...” The words get caught in my throat like thick molasses. “I'm not sure if I want to...”

Tobias’s steely gaze drifts over to me, and my muscles tense.

“You're scaring her, Tobias,” Preston says.

Tobias obviously doesn’t care because he grabs onto me and drags me into his lap so that I’m straddling him. Then he takes one of my hands and places it on his warm chest. “Tell me what you feel?” Tight muscle bunch beneath the smooth fabric separating my hand from his bare skin. The steady beat of his heart thumps against my palm.

“What do you feel, Ella?”

“You,” I whisper. “And you scare me.”

On a smirk, he traces his fingertips across my cheek. The touch is soft, tender—the touch of a lover, yet, that is not what this man is. Far from it.

“Fear is what makes us feel alive,” he says before his lips press against mine. Soft yet demanding. For a few seconds, I forget that I'm in a car with two men I don't know. I forget that the man kissing me wants me to be his whore. And why?

Because they make it disappear. They make me want to sell a lot more than my body for this sensation, this pull, this need.

His hand glides up my back, pulling me so tightly against his chest that my back bows. The only thing between my pussy and his hardening cock is the material of his pants and a scrap of lace underwear. He grabs my jaw, ending the kiss and forcing me to look at him.

“So beautiful,” he groans against my ear. “So perfect. And I haven't even been inside you yet, little lamb.”

A small laugh seeps from his lips as he carefully moves me away from his lap and into the seat between Preston and him.

Their gazes meet and something passes between them. “She's going to be a problem,” Preston says, dragging his gaze over my bare legs.

“Indeed.”

The rest of the ride is spent in tense silence. When we finally reach our destination and exit the limo, Tobias takes my hand. “You are here by choice. Try not to look like a prisoner.”

I glance up at one of Manhattan’s finest high rises as we approach the front. When the bellman opens the door to the opulent marble lobby, he greets both men but doesn’t bother to acknowledge me.

We take the elevator up to the penthouse. The doors open to marble floors and sleek leather furniture. Abstract art hangs over a stone fireplace, but most impressive is the brilliant Manhattan skyline glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows that encircle the living room.

Preston heads down one of the hallways and Tobias takes me down another, leading me into a bedroom. I take note of the king-sized four-poster bed and crystal chandelier, the expensive-looking art decorating the walls, biting back the questions plaguing my mind. There’s rich, then there’s this.

“You’ll find everything you need in the closet.” Tobias motions to a door at the side of the room as he leads me into a bathroom. He opens the door to the biggest, most luxurious shower I’ve ever seen, then twists the taps. Water rains down from the shower ceiling.

“Get undressed,” he says.

An uncomfortable sinking feeling settles in my gut, but I steel myself. I signed the contract. I agreed to this. So I take a breath, look away from him, and lift my dress over my head then strip out of my bra and lace thong.

“Look at me.”

I meet his intense gaze. Something seems to constantly swirl within his eyes; something that goes beyond mere power or wealth—a master of something. Tobias's gaze drifts to the shower, a nonverbal command that I obey, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. The hot water serves as a form of release to my tense muscles and I throw my head back, soaking my hair as I try to ignore Tobias staring at me from across the room.

“Put your foot on the bench,” he says.

And once I do that, he tells me to touch myself. My emotions short circuit. Yes, I let this man touch me, lick me, get me off. And yes, I signed that contract, but still, there’s a part of me that is hesitant. A part of me begging to defy him. And before I realize it, I say, “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

His slight smile falls, and he moves toward the shower door, placing his face so close his breath fogs the glass. “Strike one.”

Shit. “But...”

“Questions, Ella. And let's not forget that last rule. Complete submission.”

I glare at him as I lower my hand between my legs and slip a finger inside. As shameful as it is, I’m soaking wet. Terrified, yet more turned on than I’ve been in my life. This is fucked up.

“Are you wet?” he asks.

“Yes…”

“Good. Now wash yourself off.” With that, he exits the bathroom and leaves me wondering what exactly it is I've gotten myself into.