Enamored (17 page)

M
arc closed his laptop and looked through the clear glass balcony railing to the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. The beachfront hotel suite was a nice change of pace from his home office in his penthouse in Manhattan. Sure, that overlooked the city lights, but being able to hear the ocean and feel a breeze on his head invigorated him. He felt ready for anything.

Almost anything.

Marc knew he couldn’t give Lauren what she wanted—he simply couldn’t. He enjoyed watching her dominate others, but there was no way he wanted her to dominate him. Even if he did let her, it would be un-enjoyable for him.

Right?

He tried to imagine himself kissing her boot, or tied to the Saint Andrew’s Cross as she flogged him. All good Doms knew what a flogger felt like, at least from a few practice swings, but that didn’t mean that he would get off on it. But if that was the only way to give Lauren everything she needed to be happy, then who was he to deny her?

A Dom—that’s who. Damn it. He couldn’t say yes, it would undo all the hard work he’d already done to get her to submit to him.

This was a situation that Roman might be able to help him with. Roman—for all his lack of relationship experience—had a good head on his shoulders when it came to D/s scenarios.

Marc counted on his fingers for a few seconds, trying to figure out the time difference in Japan, then decided it didn’t matter. Even if it were 3
A.M
. there, Roman would still be up.

Roman answered the phone in Japanese, some sort of greeting where the only word Marc could understand was “Roman,” and even that sounded weird. Like Roman was saying his own name with a Japanese accent.

“It’s Marc, stop speaking Japanese, man.”

“How’s it going?” Roman asked, immediately switching back to English.

“Oh, I was just calling to ask you that. You know, about our investment.”

“Oh really?” Roman laughed. “And I was just about to call you a fucking liar. You didn’t call me about that shit. You know I have it handled. I sent you a three-page email yesterday.”

Marc coughed. He’d been so distracted by the ocean view that he hadn’t checked his email when he was on his laptop. “Well, maybe it was yesterday for you, but I haven’t started work this afternoon yet. I’m in LA with Lauren.”

“And so, another one bites the dust,” Roman intoned, his amusement heard through the miles of phone wire and transmitted somehow over the sea.

“I can’t help it, man. It’s Lauren. I really . . . ah, hell. And now she’s fucking awesome as a sub in bed.”

“Told you she would be. I have sub-dar. It’s like radar, or gay-dar, or kink-dar. She’s a closeted sub all the way.”

“No, I don’t think she is,” Marc said. “Not all the way.”

“Talk to me, man. Nothing else to do, now that I’ve sent Jade on her way.”

“Jade. Do I even want to know?” Marc asked.

“Yeah, you do. But not for tax purposes, if you get my drift.”

“Glad you’re making good use of company time,” he teased. Marc took a breath, unsure how to say this, even to one of his best friends. “So Lauren said I couldn’t give her anything she wants, because what she wants . . . is to be the Domme.”

“The Domme? Like, your Domme?” Roman laughed. “No way. My sub-dar does
not
go off when I’m around you. Trust me, I’ve looked for it.”

“Why have you been using your sub-dar on me, dude?” Marc laughed.

“Not just you, I do it with everyone. Whenever I walk in the room, I scan. Who am I dominant over. Who’s into kink. Who’s a sub, who’s a Dom. One is not better than the other, but it makes a difference in how you start a conversation, you know what I mean?’

“I guess,” Marc said. “So you agree with me. No point in trying to be a switch for her.”

“You could let her try, see how it goes. Maybe you’ll get off on it just because it gets her off.”

Marc thought about it. He did like the idea of turning her on. A lot. “You just want me to get my ass whupped by Mistress Lauren.”

“That too.”

Fuck it. He’d it give it a shot, for Lauren. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” Marc said.

“Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it. It takes a big man to submit. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

Marc considered this. “Would you do it, if you were me?”

“Fuck no. But have fun, asshole.”

“Thanks, motherfucker.” He hung up and laughed.

Marc paced throughout the hotel suite, bursting with renewed energy. Too bad Lauren wasn’t there. He picked up his cell and texted her.

Been thinking about what you said. Let’s stay at the hotel tonight and have some fun. Wear whatever you want.

She texted back instantaneously.
Anything, really? You know what I want to wear . . .

Marc took a breath before replying.
I know. Tonight, we make you happy.

Lauren’s next text brought a grin to his face.

Woot!

M
arc couldn’t believe he was actually going to try being a sub for Lauren this evening. But he wanted her to be happy, and if this was the only way, he had to at least give it a shot.

Making Lauren happy had always been high on his priority list, even if it just meant making sure she got the extra icing off of his dessert when they went out so she could have extra. Seeing a smile on her face, hearing her laugh—it had become such an integral part of his life he almost hadn’t noticed. Even his pranks, lately, were done with her in mind. Would Lauren find this funny? If not, he didn’t do it. He’d learned the hard way that she hated jokes that involved someone getting dirty or wet. No more water balloon boobie-traps for him, since it just annoyed her.

They were completely in-tune. At least, as friends they were. As lovers? Apparently not. Not if she wasn’t feeling fulfilled in a submissive-only role.

For Lauren—and only for Lauren—he owed it to her to at least try to submit to her. He had to make her happy.

Anything for you, Lauren
, he mused.
Even if it means I get my ass whupped. Literally
.

Otherwise she’d leave—if not at the end of the week, then eventually. And he’d be alone, wishing he could go back in time and do it. Just for this one night, to give it a try.

But he wasn’t going to go to the club with her and be submissive to her there. No, that would be too much, even for him. If he was going to play the role of submissive, he needed to do it here, in LA—where the chic retro-modern hotel room held no former memories of his dominance. No one knew him here. He wasn’t Marc the BAD Boy, he was just another guest shelling out big bucks to spend some time by the beach. So if he pussied out and couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t feel like a complete fool.

He’d feel like a fool either way, because then Lauren would be upset with him. After all, she was a hard-core Domme and she had the balls to sub for him. Why did he have such an issue doing the same for her?

Just try it.

Hell, maybe he’d even like it. Or maybe not. But for Lauren, his Lauren, he’d stand by his promise to give her anything she wanted. And tonight, she wanted to be the Domme.

And here he was, like a fucking virgin, shaking in his boots. Not literally, but almost.

His phone buzzed, a text from Lauren.

Still up for this?
she wrote.

Yeah. Come back to the hotel, baby
, he replied.

That’s “yes, Mistress” to you, at least for tonight . . .

Marc laughed. What the fuck was he getting himself into?

She had her keycard to the hotel suite, so all he could do now was try to get some work done until she showed up. He moved from the balcony to the desk inside so he could focus. Apparently the only thing the ocean breeze helped him do was daydream. He’d read through Roman’s notes on the company in Japan, and it was clear that sending him there was a good idea. In a separate email, Roman gave a play-by-play of the good time he’d had playing with rope.
Shibari
something or other. Sounded pretty fucking cool.

But when Marc thought about fantasy or kink, he imagined himself as the Dom, never as the sub. Was it that way for Lauren as well? If so, he could understand her frustration. Here he wanted her to be a sub, all the time, and he could barely handle the thought of doing it for one night.

Was it ridiculous that he was scared to be at her mercy? It was Lauren, for God’s sake. He knew Lauren. If he could trust anyone, it was her. She was known for being a harsh Mistress but for always playing in a way that was safe, sane, and consensual. As long as Marc had the consensual part down, he should be okay. He just needed to let go and let her take over.

Although . . . he had to admit, he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of suffering physical pain. He wasn’t a masochist. Not at all. In fact, when it came to pain, he really only liked to inflict it when he knew the sub would enjoy it and that it would help her get into the subspace she desired. It also put him into headspace, where he got off on the energy flowing between him and the sub. But he didn’t want just any sub. He only wanted Lauren.

Tonight, he’d have Lauren. But he would be the submissive one. Could he do it?

There was no knock at the door—he hadn’t expected one. Marc smiled when Lauren walked into the hotel suite, wearing a flowing coat over whatever she wore underneath. Maybe she was naked? He grinned, almost telling her to drop the coat, when he remembered that tonight, he was not the one making the orders.

She dropped the coat anyway, as if sensing his desire. Marc inhaled sharply. Wow. Mistress Lauren was back with a vengeance.

Chapter Nine

L
auren smiled at Marc, loving the expression of desire on his face when he saw her new outfit—the one that he paid for. She wore the special corset with the miniskirt and her thigh-high stiletto boots. She’d been fantasizing about walking on his muscular back with those boots, letting him feel the points pressing deep into his muscle, like a Domme massage. In her hand, she held her new flogger. It was beautiful and long, with many strands of leather to redden his tattooed skin with. She was wet just thinking about it.

“You look amazing,” he said. Then, without her having to prompt him, he added, “Mistress Lauren.”

“Thank you, Marc.” She walked up to him where he sat in the desk chair and used her boot to kick his legs open. He responded with raised eyebrows and a twinkle in his eye. With care, she rested the toe of her boot right between his legs, mere centimeters from his bulging groin. “I see you like my outfit.”

“I do, ma’am.”

“Good,” she whispered, and dropped his Black AmEx onto his desktop. “Because you paid for it. Just like you paid for my new toy.” She slapped the flogger against her boot, and it made a sound that excited her. Would it excite him, as well?

“Will you go easy on me, since it’s my first time?” he laughed. Marc, she knew, always teased and joked when under pressure. That was fine by her, as long as was willing to do this with her tonight.

“Only if you remember to address me as ma’am or Mistress,” she teased back.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sat on his lap and gave him a kiss, clearly taking him by surprise. “It’s still me, Marc. Don’t ever forget that. I’m still Lauren, I’m still your partner in crime. We’re just having some fun. But if it stops being fun, I want you to use your safeword. Carnation, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, looking visibly relieved as he ran his hand over his head. “I’m nervous. I don’t want to pussy out on you.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” she said, trailing kisses on his neck, nibbling his earlobe. “I’m going to take good care of you tonight. And all you have to do is lie back and let me do all the work.”

“Okay. Mistress.”

She could hear his voice tighten. It had to be hard on him, doing this for her—letting go of his dominance. Maybe even harder than it was for her when she first submitted to him. But Marc had no shield, as he called it. He didn’t become a Dom out of necessity, to save himself from personal demons. No, he was a born Dom. And the gift of his submission tonight made that even more special.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she said, and stood up. “I want you to follow me. You don’t need to be on your hands and knees, just follow. See? Told you I’m going easy on you.”

“Thank you for that, ma’am.” Marc stood up from the chair and followed her, keeping pace yet staying behind her. Lauren put a sashay into her steps so he’d have something to stare at—her leather-covered ass.

In the minimalist hotel bedroom, Lauren sat in the chair in the corner and crossed her legs slowly. Marc stood before her, looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him before, despite his obvious erection.

“You don’t know what to do, but that’s okay,” she said. “Because I’m going to tell you, and you’re going to listen. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Mistress Lauren.”

“Strip.” She said it curtly, the one word, and sat back to watch.

Marc clearly had never been given a direct order before, nor stripped for an audience, even if it was an audience of one.