Enamored (15 page)

“No, I won’t. And when I accept everything about you, unconditionally—including your past, then maybe you’ll believe that.”

Lauren paused, still wrapped in his arms. She’d forgotten a lot of what she’d done, blocked it out or blacked out and did it anyway, as if sleepwalking.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m going to gross you out. Just remember that this is my past, that I was high—which is not an excuse, but I’m gonna kinda use it as one. I was also dead broke and suddenly had the chance to make more cash in one hour with a client than I could make working a regular job all day. Men worshipped me. I felt safe at the club where I worked.”

“But you quit.”

“Well, now I do it for fun. I do what
I
want, not what I’m told I must do to make my money. It’s a whole new world. At WhipperSnapper, when I walk through the room and the male subs follow me on their knees, hoping I’ll pick them, it’s a refreshing change from when I had to stand in a line of other Dominatrixes and hope to get picked by the customer.”

“Really? That happened?”

“Yeah. Kinda humiliating. But that’s what happened the first time any new client came in. There was this one chick—this tall, muscular babe who looked like a bodybuilder. I’d always lose to her. And some guys loved this blonde woman who dressed like a teacher, it was her schtick. That is, until I was given a chance. Then any client I took on only wanted me.”

“Nothing gross yet. I thought you were going to gross me out,” Marc teased.

“Um, I used to drink a ton of water so I could pee all over one of my clients. I called him the Pee Guy.”

Marc laughed, and now it did feel like they were back at their dark booth, comparing conquests. It encouraged her.

“That wasn’t the grossest part,” she said. “Have you ever heard of a panty cocktail?”

“Do I want to?”

“No. You do not.”

Marc tickled her, an intimate gesture he’d never done before, making her drop her shield again and laugh. “Now I have to know,” he said, “or I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.”

“You probably won’t be able to sleep if I tell you. Let’s just say it involves my old panties that I wore while exercising to get them nice and sweaty. Musky. You know. And then I took those used panties to gag the client.”

Marc nodded. “That could be hot for a guy who loves the taste of pussy.”

She sighed. “You’re not letting me get to what made it a panty cocktail. Are you ready?”

He leaned over and pinched her nipple, flicking it lightly to watch it peak under his fingers as they spoke. “With that kind of lead-up this better be good. It’s like starting a joke by saying ‘This is the funniest joke ever.’ ”

“What?!” Lauren swatted him playfully. “Forget it, I’m not telling you.”

He pinched her nipple again and grinned. “I insist.”

“Well, if you insist, sir. But don’t say I didn’t warn you . . . anyway, I’d have the client kneeling on the floor, his hands tied behind his back, my used panties shoved into his mouth . . . and then I’d pour a cup of my urine through the gag. I didn’t bother being careful, so it would get on his face, dribble down his chest. And in that position, he’d be forced to drink not just my urine but it would take on all the . . . flavor of the panties.” She stopped laughing. “I guess now you see why I had to do drugs to get through the day.”

“So you’ve never fantasized about giving me a panty cocktail?” Marc asked. “Seriously, I need to know.”

“Seriously, no. I have never fantasized about that. It was Pee Guy’s fantasy and he paid me well to do it for him. For an extra fifty dollars, I let him keep the panties when we were done.”

M
arc nodded. He could see why she’d be unable to continue working as a professional Dominatrix if that was the sort of thing she was doing and she wasn’t even into it.

“You think I’m disgusting,” Lauren said.

“What?” He straddled her, pinning her hands down so he could stare into those beautiful blue eyes of hers. “I think you are an incredible woman. Nothing about you is disgusting.”

“Then you think I’m a whore.”

Did he? No. It was her past, and if the past was what made her into the woman she was today, then he could never judge her for it.

Lauren looked up at him, panic crossing her face. “You’re hesitating. Why are you hesitating?”

“I’m determining whether or not I think you’re a whore, and the answer is a definitive no.”

Her face relaxed marginally. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He leaned down, letting his weight settle on her, kissing her forehead. “Do you ever miss anything about those days?”

“No.”

“Tell the truth.”

“Sometimes I miss the money,” she whispered.

If anyone other than Lauren had whispered that to him in bed, his
oh shit she’s a gold-digger
radar would have gone off. But he’d known Lauren—the girl who took him to his first ever
Rocky Horror Picture Show
—for years, and she’d never once asked him for money. Sure, when they went out anywhere, he paid. That was a given, and as far as Marc was concerned, he was old-fashioned that way. He paid for the woman he was with, friend or date. And they did love to place bets. Usually the bet was initiated by Marc, because he loved bets.

He smiled at her. Yes, he did love his bets. Especially when they ended with Lauren underneath him. In the past, if she lost a bet she’d have to shout something like “You’re the king of the world!” or something equally ridiculous while they walked through Times Square. When he lost, he always gave her money. It was the one thing he had so much of it meant almost nothing to him, but he loved how it lit up her face.

“Are you having financial problems, Lauren?” he asked. “Because you know if you ever need money, you can just ask.”

“No,” she said shortly. “I mean, no, thank you. I can’t do that. It would make me feel . . . obligated to you.”

“Maybe I want you to feel obligated to me,” he said, trying to joke and failing. Because maybe he did.

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you want me to feel obligated?”

“I don’t. I don’t know, baby.”
Because I don’t want this to be over so soon
, he thought. But he didn’t say it.

“I have a question for you, Marc.”

“Shoot.”

“How did you feel today, watching me spank Elisabeth at the club?”

“I wasn’t jealous. I know you’re not a lesbian, and that you respect the fact that Elisabeth’s married to one of my best friends.”

“I know, I mean . . . how did you feel about seeing me as a Domme?”

How did he feel? Marc rolled over next to her and stared at the high ceiling in his bedroom. He rubbed his shaved head, the stubble rough against his hand, and thought about it.

“No thinking, just feeling,” she said. “You’re not used to being asked how you feel about something, are you?”

“It’s not really a guy thing. I mean, we feel. Obviously. But I wasn’t planning on analyzing how I felt seeing you as a Domme when I want you as my sub.”

“Did it bother you?”

No, it didn’t. She looked so happy. And anything that made her happy, made him happy. But he was too dominant to be her sub. There wasn’t a switch bone in his body, unlike her. Roman had been right about that. Lauren truly did have the ability to submit and enjoy it, if tonight was any indication.

“Roman said I was going to have my hands full,” he finally admitted. “But I thought you looked hot as hell. As always.”

“It was fun spanking Elisabeth. Wish I got more than just two licks in. I wonder how their honeymoon is going?” Lauren murmured. She sounded sleepy. No doubt she was, after their evening together.

“They are having an awesome time, no doubt. We could go on vacation too, if you want. Anywhere.”

Lauren rolled on top of him, much to his surprise. He wasn’t as annoyed as he thought he’d be, though. Not after the way they’d fucked earlier.

“If you had asked me to go on vacation with you before this particular bet, I would have said yes because we love each other’s company. But now I’m worried about that whole obligation thing.”

“You’re not obligated to me. Well, you are for the week because of the bet. But Lauren, baby—when it comes to money, I have enough that I can give you anything you need or want and it won’t hurt my wallet. I promise.”

“This feels like a test.”

“It’s not a test. I want to get you out of your element so we can be somewhere, somewhere no one knows you as Mistress Lauren.”

“How about we go to LA?”

Marc laughed. He was imagining Europe, a cruise, hell even a safari. Something more exotic than Los Angeles.

“What’s in LA?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I was just brainstorming. It’s only for a few more days, our bet. Let’s just stay here.”

“No,” Marc said. “I want to show you what I can give you. Yeah, I have a nice penthouse in a building I own. But if you were mine, I could give you anything. Anything at all. I want to prove it to you.”

“You have nothing to prove, Marc. I know you’re a fucking billionaire. You’re one of the BAD Boys for God’s sake. I get it. What I really want, you can’t give me.”

“Yes I can. What do you want? Anything.”

“I want to be the Domme.”

Chapter Eight

R
oman opened his suitcase and pulled out his whip, showing it to the tiny Japanese beauty he’d paid a small fortune to keep him company that evening. She bowed and nodded. From what he gathered, she didn’t speak a word of English, but that was fine. He’d spoken Japanese with the woman who was in charge of her dealings and hadn’t said much to the girl at all.

He wasn’t in the talking mood, and if she thought he couldn’t speak her language, it might make the evening even more interesting. She knew the word “okay.” So he’d check in with her using that. Also in the suitcase were a few long coiled wraps of thin hemp rope, perfect for tying her up with.

“What’s your name?” he asked in English, testing her.

“Jade,” she said, her accent very thick. Clearly it was a fake name and that was fine by him.

“Good girl, Jade.” He held up the rope, then held up the whip again. “Okay?”

She looked frightened, which got him hard, damn his kinky fucking cock. But Jade was a professional, and he’d been assured she was well versed in the world of BDSM. The frightened look on her face was part of her act, he knew. He could tell that she was able to sense that he’d get off on her playing the role of the innocent, when she was so clearly not innocent. Not this vixen.

“Okay,” she said. She touched the whip like it was a poisonous snake and giggled like a school girl. “Okay.”

He could so easily end the charade right now by talking to her in her native language. He could set up safewords and hard limits and do everything just like he did in New York. But tonight, he wanted something different. He wanted Jade to pretend to be new to this, to sob when he punished her, and to come when he made her. She’d be paid well for the night—enough to leave the business for a while if she chose to. But from the fading marks already on her skin, he knew she’d continue on in the water trade, as they called it here. She was an entertainer.

Another pretty euphemism for a pretty girl doing a dirty job.

Roman picked her up and laid her on the huge bed in his luxurious hotel room. While her mistress had preferred he stay at her brothel and take care of business there, he didn’t want to be surrounded by the other girls in the other rooms with men who didn’t have his same tastes. He wanted her to himself. And money talks, way better than any request he could make in Japanese. So he handed Jade’s mistress, her pimp, he supposed, his business card and a wad of cash—American dollars. The woman bowed low and let Jade travel back with Roman to his hotel. He was to return her by morning.

“Do not scar my pretty girl,” she warned him, in English. “She is my best.”

“I would never,” he promised.

Roman took his time practicing
shibari
, his Japanese rope-bondage skills. He pulled Jade’s arms behind her back until her elbows touched, and she moaned as he bound her slowly, carefully. It was about the journey, this time, not the final result. Winding the ropes around her wrists and elbows, all the way up her arms, until she was completely unable to use her arms, especially for balance. That would come into play soon.

His cock was so hard it was painful, but he didn’t want to waste the sexual energy. Instead, he put it all into binding Jade, making her even more beautiful with his rope.

He wrapped the rope around her breasts, which were tiny but pert, the brown nipples seeming to take up more space on her small frame than they should. Her long, jet-black hair proved useful and became part of his restraint as he used the rope to tie her hair behind her head, attached to her breasts. If she turned her neck or moved her head, the ropes around her little breasts tightened, and she moaned some more. The universal sound of erotic pain and pleasure mixing into one delightful sound.

“Beautiful,” he said.

She bowed her head instinctively, and gasped as her bindings tightened. Roman laughed with excitement. This was turning out even better than he’d hoped.