by Ava Claire
"I'll let you guys play whatever game it is you're playing," I said softly. "I think I've had all the fun I can take for one day." I tossed one last glare at Rachel. With her perfectly made up face and designer dress, she looked just like a mannequin in some department store. Beautiful on the outside, but hollow underneath. "You're not worth it."
"Those pictures going live on every gossip blog in the world no doubt will be. Priceless even," Rachel snapped behind me. "I knew brushing shoulders with a photographer or two would come in handy."
My fingers hardened to ice around the door handle. I didn't move. Didn't breathe out of fear it would come off in my hand. I knew she’d done it, but hearing her say it so carelessly was a whole other animal.
"Leila." Jacob was several feet away, but I felt his voice, soothing and firm, trying to keep me from losing it.
My breath caught and I swallowed before I breathed deep and let it go, letting the flow stop me from hulking out. "You are one classy broad, Rachel Laraby."
"It must be nice up there on that high horse," Rachel goaded me. "You should have a great view of the curve of your ass."
Breathe, Lay. Just breathe. I stepped out of the conference room and let the door thud closed behind me.
The small corridor outside the conference room got foggy, tears of frustration clouding my view. I was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, clad in a designer blouse and skirt, sharing my bed with one of the hottest, wealthiest men in America, but when my eyes closed I was back at PS 91. I was huddled in the bathroom, crying because I didn't feel as pretty as the other girls because of my wild, untameable curly hair. Because I wasn't as thin.
I knew Rachel was bullying me, just like those girls in my class had. Relentlessly. Without regard of the long term effects.
“You’re an adult now,” I whispered, trying to get a handle on my shaking body. But there was no denying that Rachel’s words and actions cut as deep as the insults those bitches threw at me all those years ago.
"Are you okay?"
The husky voice was beside me and I gave my head a shake, forcing a smile as I held my tears fast. "I'm fine."
And I was. I would be. I just wanted her to admit it. To admit that even though she had more money than she could spend in several lifetimes, she was morally bankrupt.
And then there was Jacob. I looked into his face, the face I'd stared at in dozens of magazines and blog posts. Into the eyes I used to think were as deep and endless as the ocean. Lost in the lips I never imagined would kiss my own. I'd done things with him, the most intimate thing one could do with another person. But he was still a mystery.
"About the pictures," he began.
"Let's don't and say we did." I took a step away from him but he put his arm on the wall, blocking me in. "I get it, Jacob. She's got megabucks and that's what it would take to squash pictures. An all star client. X-rated pictures would bring a lot of drama. A lot of headache." I tried to move but he still didn't budge. The proximity of him was muddying up all the reasons why I should walk away before I fell any harder. "Please just let me go, Jacob." I forced my eyes up and met his, biting my lip. "It's okay."
"It's not okay," he said adamantly. He moved his hand from the wall, gripping my shoulders instead. It wasn't a thing of control, or trying to bend me to his will. I hadn't even been sure there was an us until I looked at him in that moment. His expression, the fear that colored his eyes. Jacob was worried I would leave. He was asking me to stay.
I managed a nod and I felt him relax. His sure hands ran up and down my arms, his touch piercing through to my skin beneath. Piercing my soul.
"I'm..." The word trailed on forever and I knew another word was meant to be tacked onto the end. A word that I'm sure he'd never, ever said aloud.
This was a big deal for him--but I wasn't letting him off that easy.
"You're what?"
He gave me that stubborn look, his jaw locked, eyes narrowing to obsidian slits.
I waited.
He hung his head then stood up tall. "I'm sorry for this morning. I didn't think about the implications of the pictures." He raked a hand through his hair. "I mean, in the past, some enjoyed the notoriety."
I pursed my lips. "Well if you think I'm the kind of girl that would-"
"I don't," he interrupted gently. He brought his hands to my cheek, his touch sending electric jolts through my body. "When I said you were different. I meant it." He leaned in close and there was no longer personal space. The smell of mint and power cocooned me. There was nothing but Jacob. There was nothing but this moment.
He leaned in, hovering just before my lips and I breathed him in with a shudder before he pressed his mouth against mine. This was more than hunger, more than sex; I felt all the words that were too hard for a man like him to say and the fact that his lips were screaming how sorry he was. How much he needed me. Guarding my heart would be impossible now. When he pulled back, his eyes tinged with mischief, I knew he already had it.
"I took care of the pictures," he said after a moment, straightening his tie. "Every single one."
I leapt into his arms, me seeking out his lips and releasing everything. What happened between him and Rachel didn't matter. All the niggling questions about him and me were answered with one sentence.
"Oh Jacob," I sighed in between smacks. "Thank you."
He pulled me closer and there was no mistaking the curve of his erection, thumping against me with need.
Feeling wild, sexy, I snaked my hand between our bodies until I cupped him, stroking him nice and slow. "Perhaps I should thank you properly."
"Ahem."
My eyes widened, half expecting another enterprising photographer ready to snap a whole new set of pictures.
But the woman that stood a few feet away wasn't holding a camera. Instead, she was holding a highly uncomfortable look.
Jacob righted himself, turning to face her and the woman's discomfort immediately turned to fear. "Mr. Whitmore, Ms. Laraby told me I could find you here..."
"It's fine, Mrs. Joy," he said, cutting her off with a chuckle. "You're in no trouble."
I didn't know if her wide eyed shock was because of Jacob's lighthearted laugh or the fact he wasn't ripping her a new one. I gave her a sympathetic smile. Trust me, I get it. Jacob Whitmore is full of surprises.
He turned a half circle. "Mrs. Joy, this is Miss Rachel Laraby. My new assistant."
The woman stepped forward and gave my hand an efficient shake. "Pleasure."
I bit back a chuckle at that. Pleasure was what we were up to when she stopped our fun. "Nice to meet you."
"Mrs. Joy is one of the lead publicists on staff and will be taking over with Ms. Laraby."
"Really?!" I heard the inappropriate glee in my voice and Mrs. Joy arched a brow.
I cleared my throat. "I mean, that's very interesting news."
Jacob's mouth was impassive but I saw the laughter twinkling in his eye as he stepped to the side and allowed me to pass. "I believe we have other things to attend to, Miss Montgomery."
Tingles danced all over my naughty places. "Absolutely, Mr. Whitmore."
I stepped out onto the main hall and once we got near the elevators, I could hear the conference door slam open. Rachel was hollering something about termination.
I didn't relax until the elevator doors slid closed and we put a few floors between us and her.
"She can't really sever the relationship with Whitmore and Creighton, right?"
He gave me an incredulous look. "Give me a little credit, Leila. Our contract with Rachel is ironclad."
I had other questions about things she could do if she got mad enough, but all the thoughts in my head turned to goop when Jacob reached for my hand, interlacing his fingers with my mine.
"I want to take you somewhere," he said, giving it a slight squeeze. "Somewhere special."
****
I thought I was completely, irrevocably in love with the hustle of the city. Venice was fille
d with ancient buildings bursting with history. The colors were so vivid in spite of the crumbling facade. But the colors of the country, greens so bright that I could feel them wriggling with life, took my breath away. Jacob held my hand, quiet as I gushed on and on about how lovely it all was.
It shouldn't have surprised me that Jacob's villa looked like something straight off the silver screen, but I still gawked at it from the backseat. It had an antique elegance, the house painted a cream with dark shutters, surrounded by century old trees.
"It's beautiful." I gushed, unclicking my seatbelt. I knew it was the gazillionth time I'd said the word ‘beautiful’ in the past hour, but no other adjectives seemed to do it justice. "Just...beautiful." Jacob's firm hand slid up the hem of my skirt, stopping only when he hit the crotch of my panties. "I can think of more beautiful things."
Heat washed all over me, simmering where the pads of his fingers pressed against my carnal slit. We could have been parked in front of a villa or parked outside of a Walmart. No one could command my body like Jacob. No one could make the world pause until his next movement. No one.
The driver’s door slammed shut and with a low, dangerous chuckle, Jacob pulled his hand from beneath my skirt. That chuckle lasted no more than a few seconds, but it spoke volumes. It said that he had something planned. Something erotic. Something delicious.
My body trembled with anticipation but the driver did me a favor by not giving me one of those looks that said he knew exactly what we were up to. I took a few steps forward onto the cobblestone driveway to let Jacob out and took in the estate. The front drive was a half circle that stretched from the wrought iron gate entrance and exit. The grassy area it enclosed was maintained but not precision cut; the blades reached my ankles and gave a softer, more whimsical feel. Flowers the color of the rainbow lined a marble fountain that spritzed cool, clear water.
“Come,” Jacob said behind me. “Let me show you the house.”
When we stepped inside the house, paintings and rustic tapestries created a vivid picture of elegance. I could almost see some regal lord and lady vacationing here, entertaining their royal guests. He took me around to a sitting room, a library, and a kitchen that save a few modern appliances still had the rustic appeal of days long past.
“Oh my god,” I said, turning in a circle as I took it all in. “I feel like I’m in Downton Abbey.”
He let out a laugh as he put his briefcase on a mahogany table. “I gave the housestaff the day off. I could call them back if you want the full experience.”
I looped an arm through his. “Nah. I like the idea of having the place all to ourselves.”
He tucked a bundle of curls behind my ear, looking at me with an intensity that made my heart thunder in my chest. "You know what they say about great minds."
It took all I had in me to not tell him to take me then and there, right on the oriental rug, flanked by furniture that probably had enough zeroes tacked on the end to send me into cardiac arrest, but the more I stared into his eyes the more I saw the struggle.
I loosened my hold on him, his apprehension contagious. "Is something wrong?"
"No," he said unconvincingly, then gave me a sheepish look. "I...I am just concerned for you."
"What?" I said, brow wrinkling in confusion. I let out a sigh when I remembered saying our contract made me feel like he saw me as a commodity. "If this is about the house...I think it's great. I love the house."
"This isn't about the house." He paused then gave me a long, guarded look. "Well, it's about a certain room in the house where certain things are done."
Could he be anymore cryptic? "I don't get it."
"I have a room here that is suited to the erotic purposes of our arrangement," he explained, his eyes drinking me in, watching me intently. "A space where you can submit to me properly."
"Oh...Oh!" I turned all sorts of red as it dawned on me. A space.
I gulped. "Y-You mean a dungeon?"
His lips quirked into a smile. "Nothing so extreme as that. But it is equipped with certain instruments."
Instruments. My stomach tightened as I envisioned whips and swings and nipple clamps.
He was still staring at me, gauging my reactions. He must have been certain that I wasn't going to bolt because he continued. "I'm aware that the last four days have been a whirlwind for you."
I gave him a slight nod, even though a tornado, a monsoon seemed more appropriate.
"And I won't mince words. Submitting to me will be ten times more demanding of you. I will push buttons, take you to your limits and beyond. I will strip you down to the soul. You won't walk out of that room the same woman you were when you walked in." His eyes darkened. “It can be quite terrifying.”
The things he was saying should have been enough to shake me from the Cinderella-like dream to the brutal reality of bondage and submission. This was more than rough sex. This would be raw. Psychological. Terrified? I was scared shitless.
But I was also intrigued.
I was starved. Like a vegetarian who'd sustained themselves on lettuce and celery then had a juicy prime rib put before them. I was tired of sexual experiences where I knew how the story would play out. I wanted to experience this. Experience him in a way so visceral that there were no words to explain it. I wanted to submit.
“If you’re not ready-”
"I'm ready for this,” I cut in, standing tall.
"Are you sure? Because if you aren't ready, we can take this slow." I could tell by the way he gnashed the word 'slow' that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. And that made me want him even more, knowing that he would exert self control to make me happy.
I walked to where he stood. "Take me to the room, Jacob."
We stepped back into the main hall, the only sound our feet against the floor. The vibrant walls and tapestries ran together as he pulled me up the staircase to the second floor. I followed him down the narrow corridor, my arm tethered to his, stopping only at a door at the end.
When we pushed inside, the sharp lines and neutral colors that I associated with Jacob were alive and well. The walls were painted a non-descript beige and only a few pieces of furniture were spread across the room.
"Your office," I murmured to myself, glancing around. We had nowhere else to go, but there was no spanking bench or ball gags here.
He strode to his desk and reached beneath it. I heard a metallic click, and the bookcase groaned and opened a few inches. He moved to the bookcase and pulled it back, revealing a darkened stairwell.
He cast a devilish look at me. "You still sure about this, Miss Montgomery?"
I sashayed to the door giving him a wry smile. "Absolutely."
As I descended, I was grateful for the fact that it wasn't as dark and foreboding as I thought. Recessed lighting sent a warm glow to light every step. But it was more than that--the last time I walked down a stairwell with Jacob behind me I'd been going into the unknown. And while I had no idea what lied behind the door of his playroom, I knew that I trusted him.
I stopped at the landing, an unassuming white door in front of me.
"It's unlocked," he said behind me.
I twisted the cold door knob and opened the door. Motion detection lighting snapped on as I walked through the doorway and I took in the room.
Gone were the unaffected walls, replaced by a rich navy hue, deepened by stark white crown molding and a pearlescent white mantle framing an oversized fireplace. Once upon a time it might have been the focal point. But with the massive four poster bed and the metal contraption hanging down like a swing on the opposite wall, it was impossible to not be drawn to the piece of furniture like a moth to a flame.
I'd spied a St. Andrews cross on the far wall and an oak chest that was probably full of something of interest, but I couldn't take my eyes off that bed. It was black, shining like wood, but when I ran my hand along one of the beams, I felt the icy touch of steel.
"Wow," I whispered, dropping my other hand to the m
attress. Pillowtop. The softest I'd ever felt. The contrast between the pliable touch of that and the metal chains that hung from each four corners was jarring.
"I figured you'd like the bed," he said behind me, his voice warm and enticing. "Darkly elegant." His hand rubbed the small of my back then dropped to more interesting territory, gripping my buttocks. "Well, when the sex swing is detached. But I see no need for pretending this room is anything except what it is."
His firm hands were kneading, massaging, making parts of me gooey with want. On closer inspection of the swing, I saw that there was a contoured center with a zipper. I fondled it and he let out a chuckle.
"That's for making things interesting."
I let out a laugh of my own at that. One of the most powerful men in the entertainment industry was a secret Dominant--nd he was about to dominate me. We hadn't even begun and my whole body was a storm of excitement and nerves. Things had been interesting for a while now--ever since I said yes.
He roped an arm around my waist, pulling me tight to him. I felt the curve of him against me and I trembled at the thought of his hands migrating to the heart of me.
"I didn't expect this to be so..." I felt the word tingling in my throat. "Exhilirating."
"And you haven't seen the other treats in the room."
I shook my head. "I-I don't want to." It came out a lot more stubborn than I meant it to and I felt his hold tighten. "I mean, I would like to try the bed. If that's okay with you."
He didn't say anything for a long moment, so I turned to him. I saw the same struggle when he told me he'd wait til I was ready. The same conflicting emotions etched in his jaw, his pensive lips, those alluring eyes. I saw the desire to completely ravage my body battling with the desire to protect me.
He licked his lips. "I don't think you're ready, Leila. You will have no control in the swing. It is designed as such that you won't even be able to look at me." His eyes glazed and I knew he was imagining me bound. "You would be completely at my mercy. Total submission and trust. It would be like asking a baby to ride a bike."
God, it was so hard to fight the urge to just tear my clothes off and tell him to just take me. But he made me want to explore. And that's what he needed to hear.
