Personal Geography by Tamsen Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

requirements?”
    “We’ll have to wait until we sign those contracts to find out, won’t we?” A change has come over him. He’s committed to this. He doesn’t want to be polite and charming anymore. He wants to fuck me over this table, and I’m totally on board.
    I pull the three copies of the contract that Rey has already signed out of my bag along with two pens and hand the stack to him. He initials the bottom of each page, as well as by the more unique requirements I insist upon, and signs at the end. When he’s finished with the first one, he hands it to me.
    “I’ll need to bring these out to Mr. St. James when they’ve been completed and collect my things.”
    “Of course. I’ll take you.”
    I smile at him, one last free and flirty smile. I’ve enjoyed talking to him, however awkward parts of our conversation might’ve been, and I feel a pang of what might be regret that we’ll be playing roles from now on. At least I got to see him laugh. I could live off that for weeks.
    I initial and sign. It’s done. 1:05 p.m., and I am officially Cris Ardmore’s submissive.
    *
    Cris pushes his chair back from the table and stands, taking the contracts from me. He somehow looks taller.
    “Come,” he commands, holding out a hand. Something deep inside me constricts at the word coming out of his mouth, and I can think of nothing I’d like to do more for this man. If we hadn’t signed the contracts yet, my reply would be a saucy “yes, please.” But we have, so my training kicks in and I rise from my seat, putting my hand in his.
    Matty is waiting where we left him, and his face doesn’t betray anything as we approach. Cris hands him the contracts, and Matty flips through each copy. Satisfied all the t ’s have been crossed and the i ’s dotted, he hands one to me, one to Cris, and keeps the last.
    “Would you mind if I have a word with Ms. Isles, Mr. Ardmore?”
    “Please.” Cris relinquishes his grip on my hand and steps back ten paces, not taking his eyes off me.
    “All set?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “You’ll text me?”
    “I will.”
    “It’s your pick this time.”
    “Fish.”
    It’s a safety precaution Matty and I use, although it’s really more of a game at this point. I text Matty at least once every four hours with a code we agree on beforehand. Matty tends to like geography: countries that begin with C , state capitals, etc. I’m more inclined to the eclectic: car makes, James Bond movies, presidents. While the guys I’m with are aware I need to text Matty, they don’t know the code. So if Matty got an “ I’m okay :) ” he’d know I wasn’t and call in the cavalry. It’s never happened, but it’s a cute little failsafe.
    “Fish it is. Have fun.”
    “I plan to.”
    He smiles at me, shakes his head, and lays one of his elegant, long-fingered hands on top of my head. “I’ll see you Sunday. You’ll call if you need me.”
    “Promise.”
    He nods in satisfaction, removes his hand, and settles his face into what I call his “don’t fuck with me” glare before motioning to Cris to collect me and my small weekend bag. They shake hands before Matty climbs into the Jeep, and I watch him reverse and head down the overgrown path.
    Cris is standing beside me. I’m more aware of him than I have been before, and I can feel what I refer to as my sub-sense tingling. He leans down, his lips an inch away from my ear.
    “Let the games begin, pet.”

Chapter Five
    ‡
    S o it’s to be pet ? I can live with that. It’s better than the bitch or slut I sometimes get. Kitten I like, and though it’s a bit sickly sweet, I have a special fondness for precious . As long as they steer clear of baby or sweetheart as they’ve been told, I don’t care. I stand up straighter, and his hand comes to the small of my back.
    He urges me back where we came from without a word and, when we’ve entered the main hut, steers me toward one of the recessed doors.
    “This leads to my room. You