“Got healthy on you, did he?”
“Not willingly,” I say dryly. “What’s your favorite dish to cook?”
Bracing his elbows on his knees, he leans in my direction and smiles indulgently, his light-green eyes twinkling. “You really want to keep talking about cooking? Or would you rather get to the second part of our evening? I’m good either way, it’s up to you.”
“Sorry,” I say, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. I lower my head, hoping my hair hides it well enough. “I guess I’m feeling a little nervous, that’s all.”
“Hey.” Using the side of his finger, he lifts my chin until I’m forced to meet his gaze. “I’d be more concerned if you weren’t nervous, okay?” I nod, and that satisfies him. “Why don’t we go over the contracts and talk about things. After that, you can decide where we go from there.”
“That sounds good.”
“First one is easy. It’s a straight forward Non-Disclosure Agreement. You ever sign one of these before?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’m familiar with what they are.”
“Good, so you know how these work. In our case, this ensures that neither one of us can talk about what goes on behind closed doors. As a civil servant, I have to be careful about keeping my reputation squeaky clean, and no doubt you don’t want to have to defend your private business to the parents of your students.”
The thought of anyone knowing my sexual proclivities stabs me with terror. “No, definitely not.”
“Exactly. Now, I know I’m not the kind of man who would ever open my mouth about what we do, but you don’t know me well enough for that. This piece of paper is your insurance that what happens with us, stays with us.”
This is an easy decision. I already feel more at ease, regardless of whether we go through with the kinky stuff. Maybe all relationships should have NDAs. It’d put an end to things like revenge porn and exes being shitty to each other in general. Holding out my hand, I say, “Pen.” He hands me a black ballpoint, and I sign my name with a flourish on both copies. “There.”
Austin smiles and signs on the lines under mine and then sets them aside. “This next part is a bit more complex. I want you to read it thoroughly, but it basically states that we’re both knowingly entering into a consensual, sexual relationship that involves forced fantasy role play.”
“Okay,” I say, scanning over the pages as I listen. “Why do you use this if you have the NDA?”
“A couple reasons. One is for worst-case scenarios. It’s extremely unlikely because I’m always careful, but if someone were to ever see us playing and think it’s the real thing, this contract is proof that I’m not assaulting you. Likewise, it’s proof you’re not a victim of circumstance but rather in a position of power.”
“Power? I thought I was going to be…you know…not.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Emi.” He slides closer to me on the couch until our knees are touching. His eyes are earnest as he stares into mine. “You’re the one with all the power. When we’re playing, I’ll be taking all my cues from you. You can control the intensity of what we’re doing, or you can stop everything on a dime. You might be acting helpless, but you’re choosing that role, and that’s powerful in itself.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I say. “It makes me feel better about that aspect of it, but…”
“But what, sweetheart?”
“In the spirit of full disclosure,” I say, dropping my gaze to a safe spot on the carpet. “I’ve thought all week about possible reasons why I have these particular desires, and what I came up with doesn’t make me feel very powerful.” I feel him tense up next to me and see his fists clench from the corner of my eye. Realizing my mistake, I place a hand on his arm and rush to add, “Nothing bad happened to me, Austin.”
He visibly relaxes, his broad shoulders sagging, and he stretches his fingers. “I’m really fucking glad to hear that.”
“It’s just that I learned some things about myself and it made me realize other things.”
“Like?”
“Like the way I reacted to what you did to me last week was—”
The cocky cowboy lopsided grin makes an appearance. “Mind-blowing? Life-changing?”
“I was going to say eye-opening, but sure, I’ll stroke your ego.”
Winking, he says, “Darlin’, that ain’t the only thing I want you to stroke.”
I use my teacher brow-arch. “Do you want to hear this or not, Mr. Massey?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry.” His charming, full-watt smile says he’s not all that sorry, but who could care about anything with him looking like that? “It’s not really my fault, though. I lose my focus when I’m around you.”
“You don’t lose your focus, Tex. It just shifts to all things naughty.”
His gaze rakes over me, darkening. “Can’t blame me for that, either, Emi. Have you seen you? Damn, girl.” I sigh dramatically like I have no idea what to do with such an insufferable man, which is a total lie, because I have plenty of ideas of what I’d like to do to him. “Okay, okay, you’re right. We’re getting off track. Finish telling me the things you realized about yourself. I want to know.”
One of the things I’ve noticed about Austin is he doesn’t naturally speak with his accent. I’m assuming he lost it over the years after moving to Chicago as a teen. When he’s being all flirty, it comes out in full force. But when he’s not trying to charm the pants off me, he sounds almost as Midwestern as the rest of us. I can tell he’s gotten serious again because his Texan drawl has disappeared.
“I was saying that I’ve always known that I wanted sex to be more than what I’ve experienced. I knew I wanted more passion, more of the fast and frenzied I talked about last week. But I never fully understood what that meant, and when I tried asking for something I did know I wanted, I was shut down.
“Then you took the time to understand me; you figured out what I needed and within minutes gave me the best orgasm of my life.” When his mouth starts to quirk up on one side, I hold my hand up. “Hold your horses, cowboy, I’m not done.”
He rolls his lips in to hide his grin and nods. “Keep going. I’ll circle back around to that later.”
Of that I have no doubt. “You taught me that I like things…”
“Rough.” His voice comes out sounding like the word, and it sparks a flight of butterflies in my belly.
“Right,” I say and force myself to go on. “But considering my sheltered upbringing and failed attempts in the past, I’m not entirely comfortable with expressing these things or being aggressive back. Which is why I think that what you like dovetails with what I’ve discovered I need.”
Raising a hand to my face, he brushes his thumb lightly along my cheekbone. “And what is it you need, Emmélie?”
Softly, and for the first time, I give voice to the things that have been spinning around in my mind for days. “I need to be free of the shame I’ve felt for wanting the things I do. I need to feel like I don’t have a choice—that you’re going to do all those things to me because you want to, not because I want you to…even though I do. Does that make sense?”
Austin gathers me in his arms and kisses the top of my head. “It makes perfect sense, and I would be honored to be able to give those things to you.”
Before I’m tempted to climb into his lap and forego the rest of the formalities, I kiss his neck and pull back. “What do I do now?”
For the next thirty minutes, I read the contract, and then we discuss what he calls hard and soft limits. Hard limits being things I absolutely do not want to do, and soft being the things that I’m not necessarily opposed to but would like extra consideration taken if we attempt them. He wrote everything we listed onto the contract so it’s right there in black and white, with no room for misconstruing anything.
He also told me to pick a safe word—I chose Raven—and said I should use it if at any point I feel scared or just need him to check in on me. If for some reaso
n I’m unable to speak, I can snap or grunt three times. When any of those methods are used, all play is stopped immediately, “no questions asked, and no judgment passed.”
The more we talk things over, the more at ease I become. In the end, I’m glad he made us wait. Speaking frankly about what you do and do not want during sex, complete with drafting and signing contracts, might sound like a huge mood-killer, but now when we do start getting hot and heavy, I won’t have to be worried that he’ll do something that scares or offends me. He’s made me feel safe and protected, both legally and emotionally, and if I was free to do so, I think I could eventually fall for Austin Massey.
That reminds me…
“I only have one more question,” I say, nervously biting my lower lip.
“Shoot.”
“What are you looking to get out of our time together?”
Intelligent green eyes study me for what seems like forever before he answers. “I’m only looking for as much as you’re willing to give, Emi. Nothing more. Maybe I should ask you what that is.”
I shrug. Not because I’m unsure of what I’m willing—or rather, able—to give, but because I’m trying to pass it off as no big deal. “I’m not looking for anything serious or long term. I’d like us to have fun with each other, no strings and no commitments. Is that okay?”
For a split second he narrows his gaze at me, and I’m afraid he’s somehow seen inside my mind and knows all my secrets. But then he gives me that heart-stopping smile, and my concern melts away like snow under a blowtorch. “Darlin’, you just described most every man’s dream relationship.”
I take a generous sip of my wine and force it around the lump in my throat. “Great,” I say with feigned enthusiasm. It is great because I won’t be able to date like this in a few months. Now—if by some chance this manages to last that long—I don’t have to worry about things ending badly between us. Have your fun now, Emi. These memories need to last you a lifetime. “What happens now?”
“Do you want to give me a scenario or do you want to leave that to me?”
“Definitely leave it to you, at least for now.”
He nods. “Then do you want me to walk you through everything that’s going to happen? Or would you prefer to only know the setup and trust me for the rest?”
I think about it for a few seconds. I think knowing everything will take away from the experience. With all that we’ve discussed tonight, I really do trust him to honor my limits and pay attention to my cues. “Just the setup.”
Austin rises and holds his hand out. “Then come with me.”
Chapter Eight
Emi
I slip my hand onto his work-roughened palm and stand to follow him to his bedroom. A king bed with end tables on either side takes up most of the wall straight ahead. There’s an overstuffed chair in the corner to my right that faces the bed with a stand-tall lamp next to it. Two doors are on the left wall, one that clearly leads to an en suite bathroom, and I assume the other is a walk-in closet. Whereas the main living area is neutral colors with firefighter and Chicago Blackhawks paraphernalia, his bedroom—with navy walls and bedding and framed white jerseys with the names Aikman and Romo—is clearly an homage to his favorite football team.
“Dallas Cowboys, huh?”
Smiling, he says, “You can take the boy outta Dallas… You a Bears fan?”
“I’m a nothing fan. I’ve never watched sports. Dad was more of a horse races guy, and my mother was fond of saying there was no point in watching overpaid barbarians chase their balls,” I say with a wry grin.
“Oh, darlin’, I can’t wait to take you to a game sometime. I bet I can make a super fan out of you in no time. But for now…” Austin crowds my back, slipping one arm around my stomach as his other hand guides my head to the side so he can nip the shell of my ear. I gasp as the tingles chase the fiery heat pooling in my belly and between my legs. “I’m going to show you just how barbaric I can be. Go take a shower, princess.”
I’m so turned on I almost don’t register that last part. “What?”
“You live here—maybe you have a roommate, maybe you have a boyfriend, or maybe you’re completely alone, I’ll leave that much up to you.” I realize he’s giving me the set-up to our play session, and I soak it all in, wanting to get it right. “I’m an intruder, I’ve broken into your home. I see you in the shower and decide to sit in the dark bedroom and wait for you to get out. Got it?”
I nod.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Raven.”
“Good girl,” he says in a growly voice I’ve never heard from him before, and I think it’s my new favorite sound. “Now go. And take your time in there.”
An addictive cocktail of nerves and excitement floods my system as I walk into his bathroom, leaving the door open. The bedroom light is turned off. I feel like I’m standing under a spotlight with the rest of the world submerged in darkness, something that’s second nature to me from years of dancing on stage. But I’ve never felt a lone pair of eyes on my back as I slowly undo the side zipper of my skirt and let the flimsy material pool at my feet to reveal the black thong bisecting my cheeks.
I listen for any kind of audible reaction—a grunt, a groan, a whispered curse—but I hear only the deafening silence, and I realize that I don’t even know if he is watching me yet. He might be waiting in the living room until I’m in the shower. For that matter, he could be in the hall, so he can start everything like this really isn’t his place. I have no idea because he only gave me the most basic of instructions; everything else is the X factor, the unknown, and that’s the part that’s heightening my anticipation.
Settling more into my role, I stop doing the striptease and finish disrobing with quick efficiency as I would if I were home, then turn the water on in the shower. After I wait the few seconds for it to get warm, I step inside and close the glass door behind me. For the next ten or so minutes, I go through the motions of washing my hair and body while my mind races.
As I’m rinsing the soap off, I have an epiphany: this feels like a haunted house.
I know I’m about to be scared, but I have no idea how or to what extent, and I know that what’s about to happen won’t be real and yet I know that in the moment it’ll feel real enough. That’s what this is, I muse with a smile. Austin is my haunted house.
I turn the water off and step out of the shower, grabbing the fluffy bath towel to dry myself off, and extract as much water from my hair as possible so it’s not dripping down my back. Then I wrap the towel around my body. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, and I’m certain he must be able to hear it from wherever he is. I consider stalling until I can get it under control, because that’s my default setting, to be in control at all times. But this is about being the exact opposite, because in reality, I don’t want to have the control. Not in this.
I’m out of things to do. All that’s left is to leave the bathroom. I flip the light switch off by the door, but the recessed light over the shower stall must be on a different switch. I turn back to look for it when I’m yanked into the bedroom. My startled shout is genuine as I’m shoved up against the wall from behind. Austin is— No, not Austin, I correct myself. Someone is pressing his body into me, his hands gripping my bare upper arms. He’s much bigger than I am, and his hard body speaks of muscle definition that can overpower me with ease.
“Well, well, well…” His deep voice sounds as unforgiving as his hold on me. “What do we have here?”
My pulse takes off like a jackrabbit on speed as I get my first taste of this real-not-real flavor of sex. It’s heady to feel so powerful and yet so vulnerable all at the same time. With one last deep breath in…and out…I give myself over to the role I’m meant to play.
“Who are you?” I demand, the spike of adrenaline giving my voice a convincing quiver. “How did you get in here?”
His devious chuckle assaults my ear. “How I got in doesn’t matter, and who I am depends on you. I
can be a one-night stand…” He shoves his hands between me and the wall and gropes my breasts through the towel, grunting in appreciation. “Or I can be your worst fucking nightmare.” Emphasizing his point, he twists my nipples and sends delicious frissons of electricity straight to the core of my sex.
I cry out from the bolt of pleasure, but it doubles as a convincing cry of pain and fear. “Please,” I beg, “don’t do this. You can walk out of here right now, I haven’t seen your face.”
Suddenly I’m spun around. Though the room is still dark, the low light from the shower projects a faint glow just beyond the threshold. His face is cast in shadows, his mouth twisted with feigned malice.
“Now you have.”
“Please, just take what you want—money, jewelry, anything—then just go, okay?”
“That’s why I came, to rob the spoiled brat blind. But then I saw you in the shower,” he says as his hands roam roughly, “and I decided to stay for the show. The way your hands soaped up that tight fucking body of yours got me so damn hard.” Stepping in closer, he grinds his proof on my lower belly, torturing me with what’s to come. I have to consciously not bite my lip, which would give away his true effect on me. “Now you need to do something about it. I want what you’re advertising. You can either let me try the goods or I’ll take them from you anyway, like I planned on taking your jewels.”
He’s pretending to give me a choice, but it’s a lose-lose situation, and I’ve never liked being backed into a corner, real or not. Squaring my shoulders, I counter-offer like I have a chance of swaying the end result of this scenario in the slightest. “How about this? You leave with everything in my jewelry box, which will fetch you more money than you could hope to see in a lifetime, and I promise not to call the cops.”
The bastard laughs, distracting me for the second it takes for him to rip away my towel. I try to make a grab for it, but he tosses it to the side and cages me in using his own body. Pinning my wrists to the wall above my head, he kicks my feet wider and pushes his muscular thigh between my legs, rubbing the coarse denim against the sensitive lips of my pussy. The combination of friction where I need it and the escalation of the game is drug-inducing, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he feels the wetness through his jeans.
Merciless (Playboys In Love Book 3) Page 6
