Enamored (6 page)

L
auren’s body spasmed as an aftershock from the intense orgasm ran through her. Wrapping her legs around him, she gasped as Marc slowly slid inside her wet pussy.

Sex—with Marc. And her on the bottom. It was something she’d never have imagined happening in a million years, but now that she was here, there was nothing she wanted more than to be as physically close to him as possible, to have him in her, filling her with his cock.

“Now you’re ready for me, aren’t you, baby,” Marc whispered as he thrust once more into her.

“Yes, oh God, yes,” she breathed, and Marc slapped her thigh. The sting of it brought on another wave of desire, a desire mixed with some layer of shame she couldn’t quite wrap her thoughts around. “Yes, sir.”

He still held her wrists above her head, and every part of her yearned to touch him, to grab hold of him as he rode her. But there was something comforting in his firm grasp—it reminded her that she was there to submit to him, to let him take the reins.

The trust it involved was overwhelming, especially since the last time she’d been held down and fucked had been . . .

“Red. Fundamental. Stop, Marc, stop,” she gasped.

He rolled off of her immediately, removing his hands, his cock, everything. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaky. “It was getting too real. I don’t know, something just hit me and I needed to know I could make you stop if I needed to.”

“Of course . . .” That fearful look still on his face, as if he was terrified he’d done something very wrong. “May I hold you? As friends?”

“Please,” and fuck it all to hell, a tear rolled down her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his warmth.

“I’d never do anything to harm you, Lauren,” he whispered. “If you don’t want to do this, then we can forget the whole thing. I’ve wanted you for so long, but never in tears, never like this.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Marc. There’s a reason I’ve always been a Domme, and it’s not just because I like to bring men to their knees. It’s because I’m scared. Just scared.”

“Please don’t be scared of me,” he said, letting her rest her head against his chest. “You know me. You know what I like. Yes, I want to dominate you. I want to tie you up, to pleasure you, to give you erotic pain too. But I also want you to enjoy it.”

“I did enjoy it,” she admitted. “But then it felt wrong somehow, like I shouldn’t be letting you do this, like enjoying those slaps and spanks and your hands holding me to the bed was bad, dirty somehow.”

“Do you think it’s bad that your submissive playmates enjoy being dominated, being hurt?”

Do I?
Lauren thought back, trying to get into her headspace when she was topping a man.

“No,” she said. “I’m aroused, loving every second of it. It’s like I feed off of their arousal and pain, and the pleasure they get from it. I want to do everything I can to make them feel more, because it gets me off to see them getting off.”

“That’s how I feel too,” Marc said. “But I’m not a rapist. This isn’t about only what I need. I only want to do things that you will enjoy. The problem is, I don’t think you know what you’d enjoy yet. You have tight boundaries and that shield is still up.”

“You want to push my boundaries,” she said. “I know. I’ve done it myself, as a Domme. And I can bring subs to places they never thought imaginable.”

“I can too, when you’re ready to let me.”

“Yes, sir.” Lauren smiled. She hadn’t even meant to call him sir. It just . . . slipped out. “Can we try again?”

Marc nodded, but he didn’t start again. “No offense, but when you safeworded I kinda lost my erection, I was so worried I’d hurt you.”

“I can fix that. I want to, if you’ll let me.”

He rolled the condom off his cock and she turned around, licking her way slowly down his muscular chest. When she reached his cock, she sucked it full into her mouth, licking off the taste of latex until she could taste him, his masculine scent.

His cock thickened and grew hard in her mouth. She wanted to tease him, nibble him, but instead she gave a blow job that she imagined a sub might give, respectfully, carefully, allowing him to thrust past her lips as deep as he wanted. She could give him pleasure freely, and just as she did as a Domme, she found her own desire in his moans, his hips thrusting toward her.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered. “Let me get another condom.” He pulled out, and she pouted playfully, because she’d been enjoying herself.

With a quick movement he’d sheathed himself again, and as Marc hovered above her, she spread her legs wide for him.

“Green to go?” he asked. “I’ll stop again if you need me to. My balls might fall off,” he teased, “but I will.”

“I know. Thank you for that.”

He slid inside her, wrapping his arms around her body, pulling her close, and she held on tightly as he rode her, hitting her G-spot with each thrust.

“Are we okay?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes. God, she loved those eyes of his.

“Perfect.”

“Then come for me, Lauren.” He picked up the pace, fucking her hard, until her moans of pleasure got louder and louder, she could barely contain herself. Holy fuck.

“I’m coming,” she gasped, and his cock pulsated inside of her as his own come hit the condom. She squeezed his length with her pussy, milking out every last drop.

“Wow,” he said, kissing her sweetly, reverently. “That was amazing.” He paused. “How about for you?”

“Amazing,” she agreed. “I’m glad we finished what we started.”

“Me too.” He hugged her close. “We’re finished for tonight, but we have a whole week ahead of us.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine at his words. If she could submit to anyone, it would be Marc. She’d safeworded, and he’d stopped. That helped more than he would ever know.

“Submission isn’t just for the bedroom this weekend, Lauren,” he said. “Tomorrow at Trevor and Elisabeth’s wedding, you will be submissive to me. Do you understand?”

Oh my God. Being submissive in public. Could she do it? She was so used to bossing everyone around, and teasing the bejeezus out of Marc.

“I won’t know how to behave,” she said.

“Be yourself. I don’t want to change you. Just be yourself and obey whatever I tell you to do, and obey respectfully.”

“That seems like cruel and unusual punishment,” she joked. Sort of joking. Not really.

“No, cruel and unusual punishment will be the game we play after the wedding reception,” he teased. From the glint in his eye, it was more of a promise than a threat.

“Looking forward to it.”

“I’d like you to wear a dress tomorrow, as my date.”

“Marc—I don’t even own a dress. I literally wear the pants. You know that.”

He laughed at her pun, but shook his head. “Then you can go out tomorrow before the wedding and buy yourself something very feminine and demure.”

“Demure? Are you kidding? You’re talking to the girl who wears latex for a living.”

“I think it will help put you in the right mind-set. It doesn’t have to be frumpy, I just don’t want you wearing your usual black or red low-cut corset-y stuff. Tiff will join you to make sure you pick out something suitable.”

Lauren huffed. She’d Dommed his lesbian secretary at WhipperSnapper a few times, and Tiff seemed to be both slightly terrified and slightly in awe of her at the same time, which Lauren loved. And now Tiff was going to be in charge of picking out her clothes?

Hell, she really was playing the sub this week.

“I’m so getting back at you for this,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Marc raised his eyebrows.

“Um . . . yes, sir.” She grinned and Marc kissed her.

“You’re lucky you’re my slave for the week and not Roman’s. He’d make you sleep on the floor.”

“So I’ve heard from various girls. He’s a sadist.”

“Yup. In a good way, I suppose. We’ve both got sadistic streaks in us . . . but I want you by my side tonight, in my bed.”

“If you were my submissive, you’d be at the end of the bed like a dog,” she said mildly.

“Roll over.”

What? Lauren rolled over and yelped when his hand spanked her ass, hard, over and over again. It stung, hurt like a bitch, and yet she could feel herself getting wet from it, needing it even as she tried to roll away from his hard hand.

“That’s happening every time you try to top me,” he warned. “And I don’t care if we’re in public when it happens. Which reminds me . . . under that dress tomorrow, you will not be wearing panties.”

Chapter Four

L
auren stared at the Black AmEx in her hand. An unlimited budget to go buy herself a “demure” dress for the wedding that evening.

Marc’s secretary Tiff walked briskly at Lauren’s side. “How cool is this? Where should we go first?”

“I have no idea. Where do rich people go to buy dresses?” Lauren asked.

“Wherever the heck they want,” she replied.

Ah. True, but weird.

“Nordstrom?”

“Think bigger.” Tiff grinned at her, the same grin she gave Lauren after Lauren had tied her to the Saint Andrew’s Cross and publicly flogged her at WhipperSnapper last year.

“This is ridiculous. I have no idea where to go if I’m not buying jeans or something kinky. Can you even picture me in the type of dress Marc wants me to wear?”

Tiff looked her up and down appraisingly. “Yes.”

“Fine. You lead the way.” Oh my God, had those words really just come out of her mouth? Telling another sub to lead her? She really was losing her game.

Lauren followed the petite girl down Fifth Avenue, until Tiff gasped and grabbed her hand. “Here.”

They stepped inside, and suddenly Lauren envisioned the scene in
Pretty Woman
where Julia Roberts was laughed out of the store.

Well, the Black AmEx would shut them up. Maybe she should show it to them first.

“Good morning, ladies, may I help you?” a coiffed lady asked, walking toward them. The store was empty, with only a few dresses and bags hung artfully on the walls. It didn’t look like a place to shop, it looked like a museum.

Tiff stepped forward, sliding the card from Lauren’s hand into the saleslady’s hand. Hmm. Tiff probably had the same
Pretty Woman
scene in her head as well. “Marc Wilde requests his date wear a beautiful but demure dress for the Brooks-Anderson wedding this evening.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Lucky girl. Let’s see what we can do.” She looked at Lauren, and Lauren could imagine that her inner thought process went something along the lines of
None of these dresses will fit this woman.

But the smile remained, and she said, “We alter dresses on the spot for a tailored fit, have no fear.”

“You read minds?” Lauren joked.

“It’s my job,” the woman replied, and picked a dress off the wall, one that was clearly a size two. “These are samples, but I have something in the back that might work that’s similar. Any special requests?”

“Well—”

Tiff interrupted Lauren. “No black, no red, no white, beautiful without showing too much skin. Or . . . décolletage.”

“But not frumpy,” Lauren added. Fuck.

“We don’t make frumpy clothes,” the woman said. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. Don’t worry, darling, we’ll find you something fabulous.”

She came out of the back room ten minutes later with an armful of dresses. They all still looked way too small for Lauren.

One was lovely though, she had to admit. It called to her. Pale blue, which always worked well with her red hair, and the way it crossed over one shoulder would cover her chest completely while leaving the other shoulder bare, something that would probably be sexy in its own way.

“Don’t try zipping up,” Charlotte warned. “Just put it on, and it if works we can take the same fabric from another dress and add it to the back to make it fit and have it ready by the time you come back from shoe-shopping.”

“So I need to buy two dresses to fit myself into one? Awesome.” Her biting tone didn’t sound appropriately grateful or submissive-like, so she softened it with a smile. “Well, if Marc wants to spend . . . how much is that dress, anyway?”

Tiff shook her head. Apparently if you needed to ask you couldn’t afford it. “It doesn’t matter, it’s Marc. He made enough money to buy this whole store while he was drinking his coffee this morning. Just try it on.”

Lauren stepped into the decadent dressing room, not surprised when both Tiff and Charlotte joined her.

“You’ll need a strapless bra and some Spanx,” Charlotte announced and left to go get them, apparently.

“I’ve never felt too big before. This is just embarrassing,” Lauren muttered to Tiff.

“Oh stop. You know you’re gorgeous. Everyone loves your curves. The dresses on the wall are made for wire hangers, not people, you know that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. That’s why runway models are so skinny. They wear the dresses like hangers to showcase the dress, not the person. But you . . . you’ll shine in whatever we choose.”

“That’s sweet,” Lauren said, and she meant it. Maybe Tiff had a bit of a crush on her. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d topped someone and had them sexually attracted to her after. But Marc . . . he’d been attracted to her all this time, or so he said. The thought thrilled her.

“Knock, knock,” Charlotte said cheerily, and entered without actually knocking. She had a large undergarment in her arms and some strapless bras that had definitely not been on the walls in the store.

Oh. Fuck. “One more request,” Lauren said, feeling her face flush. “I won’t be wearing underwear, so the Spanx might not work.”

Charlotte’s cheeks reddened. “Let’s try this with just the bra, then, and this piece that will fit under your breasts, over your stomach and hips, but leave your . . . um, private areas unrestrained.”

Okay then. Lauren put on the undergarments, surprised to see the tight spandex material worked almost as well as a corset at tightening and smoothing her waistline.

“Go on, let’s try on the dress,” Charlotte encouraged. No doubt she wanted the sale, since something told Lauren the dress was going to cost upwards of four figures, maybe five. And she’d be buying two of them.