Enamored (10 page)

“Let’s dance!” one of the boys (well, he was probably in his early twenties but looked about fifteen) yelled, and everyone took to the dance floor, bopping along to the silly beat. It completely broke the ice and got the party started.

“You and your pranks,” Lauren said, shaking her head. “You’re lucky Elisabeth likes your sense of humor, after all the work she put into planning this wedding.”

“I am certainly lucky. But what do you get the guy who has everything, other than a boy band, really?”

“You make a good point.”

She danced in her seat, hoping Marc would invite her to dance. If she wasn’t trying to be in sub mode, she’d already be out on the floor.

“All right, let’s do this.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out on the dance floor, and soon they were bopping and clapping along with the rest of the party-goers.

“You make everything fun,” she said, nearly yelling over the music.

“You too, baby, you too.” He swirled her around under his arm, and Lauren was pleased to see that following Marc wasn’t as hard as she’d have guessed. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look in that dress?”

“Not in the last twenty minutes, at least,” she said, twirling in toward him until her hand pressed against his hard, muscular chest.

He laughed, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her, but he didn’t.

“You might not want to look at the bill for it, though,” she said. “Just a thought.”

“Anything for you,” He grinned and pushed her gently so that she’d twirl back out.

“Of course anything for me, I deserve it,” she reminded him, and shimmied her hips until he groaned and pulled her in close again.

“You’re killing me here.”

“Balls match my dress?” she asked innocently.

“Just you wait, Lauren.” He dipped her, and she kicked up her foot. “Hey, you’re a good dancer.”

“You’re easy to follow.”

Hopefully that would translate to the bedroom that night. She’d take Roman’s words to heart, because his advice was good.

Just pretend.

And if pretending turned into the real thing, she’d worry about everything else when their week together was over. Laughing and dancing with her best friend, though, and now her lover and temporary Dom, made her wonder if she ever wanted their week together to end.

Tonight, she was going to pretend her heart out . . . and this time, she had a feeling she’d enjoy it. A lot.

T
he wedding lasted late into the night, but there was an after-party for the kinksters at WhipperSnapper in the city. Trevor, Elisabeth, Marc and Lauren, and Elisabeth’s ex-Dom, now happily with his collared sub Andrew—who used to be the bartender at the BDSM club (if pouring overpriced soda and lemonade counted as being a bartender)—were all riding in the same limo. So was Roman.

“Hey Lauren,” Marc said to her as the wedding wound down. “Here.”

She didn’t recognize what was in his hand until he handed it to her. The key to her butt-plug. “Good timing.”

“Go upstairs to the Pink Room. There’s an outfit laid out for you, and I want you to wear it to the club tonight. It includes a collar—”

She frowned. Collaring?
What?
A collar was a big deal, and it meant as much as a wedding ring to many Dominant/submissive couples.

“It’s temporary, just part of the costume. I want everyone who sees you to see you as my submissive tonight, not as Mistress Lauren. It was the only way I could think of to do that. It doesn’t lock, you can attach it yourself.” He paused. “It’s not for real. Just a costume.”

Well. “Okay.”

Lauren started up the stairs slowly. What had he picked for her to wear on her first public night as his sub at WhipperSnapper?

“Lauren, wait up!” Elisabeth called jubilantly.

“It was such a beautiful wedding,” Lauren said, once more admiring her dress. “You look stunning.”

“I can’t believe Marc pranked our wedding with that boy band!” she laughed. Well, at least she thought it was funny. Thank goodness.

“You know Marc. He probably spent weeks thinking of the perfect thing to do that wouldn’t enrage you but would still be funny.”

“It worked. Everyone had a blast.”

Elisabeth kicked off her heels and Lauren did too, figuring that ascending the huge staircase barefoot would be much safer.

“I was just going upstairs to change for the after-party, if that’s okay?” Lauren asked. It was Elisabeth’s home now, too, after all.

“Of course, me too. Trevor said he has a surprise for me at the club, and I can’t wait to see what it is.”

“I was instructed that there’s an outfit for me waiting in the Pink Room. But I need to hit the ladies’ room first.” She discreetly flashed Elisabeth the tiny silver key in her hand and Elisabeth grinned.

“Ooh, he’s devious, that one. I’ll grab my outfit and meet you in there so we can help zip each other up.”

At the top of the stairs, Lauren went to the Pink Room, which was basically a very girly guest room and bathroom, the one where they’d all gotten ready earlier, while Elisabeth pranced off to the master bedroom.

It was sheer pleasure unlocking the chains and removing the plug, which she washed carefully with antibacterial soap and wrapped in a bag before setting it aside. Her ass felt empty now, and a bit sore. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was struck again by how different she looked all dressed up in the blue dress. But it looked great on her, if she did say so herself.

Stepping out of the huge bathroom, the outfit Marc ordered her to wear was spread out on the bed. It was a good thing he warned her about the collar, or she wouldn’t have worn it. She wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, especially since she didn’t even know if she could truly enjoy being his sub, much less be in a full-time D/s relationship with him.

Well, she could easily be in a full-time D/s relationship with him if he was the sub, but that wasn’t going to happen until she got him to play her slave for a week. Someday, hopefully.

Really? Was that really what she wanted now? No way to tell, since they hadn’t even properly scened with each other. But tonight . . .

An emerald green corset and a short black vinyl miniskirt lay on the bed, with a thick black collar that would be seen from across the club. Awesome. She sighed. Would this permanently ruin her street cred as
the
Domme of the club? Black stilettos sat on the floor, the heels so high she knew they would hobble her, keeping her from her usual striding steps.

Yes, he
was
devious, that Marc.

Oh, and a new thong, a green that matched the corset. At least it would look good with her red hair. But if she got even one leprechaun joke she’d kill someone.

Elisabeth knocked.

“Come in,” Lauren called. “I haven’t worked up the nerve to get dressed yet.”

“A collar?” Elisabeth asked, pointing to the bed.

“It’s a temporary one, to show everyone I’m his sub tonight. It’s not like yours. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Elisabeth nodded and turned around. “Will you help me out of my wedding dress, please?”

Lauren carefully unhooked the tiny eye-hooks down the back and helped her slide out of the wedding dress. Underneath, Elisabeth was naked except for a white strapless bra, a blue garter on her left thigh, and . . . a thin metal chastity belt.

“Oh my God,” Lauren said, laughing. “For real?”

“He put it on me a week ago, so we wouldn’t have sex and I wouldn’t have an orgasm until our wedding night, to make it more special. Since we’ve already been living together and all that.”

“Way to go, Trevor,” she murmured, admiring the dominant act. She’d have to use that sometime.
No, wait. Stop thinking like a Domme.

Elisabeth helped Lauren out of her pale blue dress, and Lauren pulled on the satin green thong, which left her bruised ass visible for a moment before she hiked up the black miniskirt.

“Was that your first paddling?’ Elisabeth asked. “He really did a number on you.”

“Yeah, but I have to admit it really has helped put me in a submissive mind-set, since every time I sit down I think about Marc and how he did this. He’s the one who controls how I’m feeling when I sit, even if he’s not there. It was a smart Dom move on his part.”

“I love being paddled,” Elisabeth said dreamily, pulling a flowing white skirt that went to just above her knees over her chastity belt. Next followed an adorable white tank top with lace edging that said “Mrs. Brooks” in big letters across her ample chest.

“That’s so cute.”

“I have a tiara, too, and I’m keeping the garter on,” she smiled. “And of course, my usual collar.”

“Of course,” Lauren said, staring at her own collar. Fuck it. She picked up the corset and turned her back to Elisabeth. “Lace me up?”

“Tell me if I go too tight,” she said as she expertly laced the corset, tightening Lauren’s waist and pushing her breasts up and out into the large cups.

“You look fucking hot, girl,” Elisabeth said approvingly.

“I really don’t want to wear this stupid collar,” Lauren said as she picked it up, fingering it. “No one will ever look at me the same way again.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Elisabeth asked. “Besides, plenty of people are switches. And even if you’re not—if you’re pure Domme through and through, then that will show when the week is over and you come back to WhipperSnapper in all your Dominatrix glory.”

Lauren laughed. “Good pep talk. Okay.” She placed it around her neck, the thick black leather feeling foreign on her skin. It had eye-hooks at different areas, much like the back of a bra, so it could fit different neck sizes. The front had a silver loop, like one would see on a dog collar.

Would he leash her? It almost might make it easier on her if he did, because then it would be clear that she was his and not just a sub in general. Also, it was such an elaborate setup that at least some people at the club would think it was another of Marc’s pranks.

With the collar on, she slipped on the stilettos and immediately grew four or five inches, practically standing on her tippy toes.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Like Marc’s fantasy girl,” Elisabeth said approvingly.

“Sorry about what happened with Roman’s toast, by the way.”

She sighed. “Tonight’s about celebrating. I’m going to let bygones be bygones. Especially if we’re all sharing a limo to the club.”

“Sorry.”

“Let’s go meet the guys. They should be out of their tuxes by now,” Elisabeth said, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “I’d suggest taking off those heels before going down the stairs, or we’ll all be spending the evening in the emergency room.”

Lauren stepped out of the heels and picked them up, slinging the straps over one finger. “Good plan.”

Trevor, Marc, Roman, Gregory, and Andrew stood at the bottom of the stairs in the grand foyer, each wearing their usual club-wear—jeans and tight black T-shirt for the BAD Boys, and Gregory and Andrew in full leather. Andrew’s collar looked a lot like the one Lauren wore, but his was real. It signified his commitment to serve Gregory.

The men whistled and clapped as they descended the long, winding staircase, and Lauren grinned, enjoying the attention, even if most of it was probably for the bride and her Mrs. Brooks camisole. But Marc only had eyes for her, it seemed. He watched her every movement, the desire at seeing her wear the outfit he’d bought her—and the collar—evident in his eyes.

Marc held her hand at the bottom of the staircase as she stepped back into the stilettos. She walked slowly, practically leaning on him to support herself on her toes.

“We’re going to have some fun tonight,” he whispered decadently in her ear. Shivers of anticipation ran down her spine.

“I think we will,” she replied. Roman’s advice took hold.
Pretend
. “In fact, I know we will, with you as my Dom, sir,” she said more resolutely.

“I like your attitude, baby,” he grinned, and he held the door open for her as they all climbed into the back of the white stretch limousine.

Chapter Six

R
oman Chase felt like a fool. He should have listened to Marc and let him do the toast at the wedding. For some reason Roman had truly believed he’d be able to do it without hints of his misgivings about their marriage coming through. But those drinks had loosened his tongue and apparently killed some brain cells as well.

Fuck.

The only reason he was even going to the after-party was in an attempt to get back into Trevor and Elisabeth’s good graces after what happened. Ultimately, Roman had decided that he’d never betray Trevor, that he wouldn’t even try to go after his girl. But lately things were getting all screwy in his head. He wanted her, wanted the sort of masochistic pain-slut he knew she was. Out of all of the BAD Boys—a term he found both amusing and on-target, considering they did happen to be billionaires, occasionally tended toward arrogance (or at least he did, given his title as one of the best submissive trainers in the tri-state area), and they were Doms from the core of their souls. But out of the three of them, Roman knew he was the most sadistic. It wasn’t just dominating a woman that turned him on, it was seeing her in pain—beautiful, exquisitely erotic pain. And he liked it the best when she loved receiving it as much as he loved doling it out. That was Elisabeth.