“Say I decide I can really trust you completely to be part of my life and my son’s life… Have you thought about the possibility that I might not be everything you’ve spent three years imagining I am? What if you couldn’t stand living with me, or the way I sing in the car? As much as it’s nice to hear all the things you’re saying, I don’t know how you can know with so much certainty.”
He sets his fork down, leaning forward just enough to intensify the effect his eyes have on me. No matter how much he looks at me, I can’t stop wanting more of his attention. Having those eyes of his on me feels like a drug, one I can’t get enough of.
“I know people,” he says. “It’s how I made my fortune. It’s part of the work I do every day. It has always been a gift of mine. Everyone says so much more than they realize through their body language, and I’ve been fluent in that language as long as I can remember. You’re not saying it, but what you’re really worried about is that my sexual needs will be more than you can handle.”
A jolt of surprise runs through me. Whether I realized it or not, I think he’s right. That fear was at the heart of what I was saying. “And what if it is more than I can handle?” Is it a deal breaker? That’s the real question I’m asking, and maybe the most important. It might even be the only thing standing between us. What if I can’t dive into the lifestyle he wants. What if I can’t live my life as some kind of submissive to him?
“I’ll make this as clear as I can,” he says. “My sexual appetite revolves around you. You know what gets me off? You know the only fucking thing that has brought me any kind of pleasure for the last three years? The idea of making you cum.”
One of the chefs pauses, knife held in her hand. I feel a flush of embarrassment when I realize they can probably hear every word he’s saying right now, but judging from the looks they are exchanging, they are all wishing they were sitting where I am right now.
“I don’t care if you cum because I’m fucking you missionary while you wear a bathrobe with the lights off, because we’re sneaking a quick fuck in a place where people could find us, or because I’ve got your hands tied up over your head and I’m spanking your ass with a paddle. All I care about is giving you the hardest, most life-shattering orgasms I can. That is my sexual appetite.”
I feel a little dizzy, and my pussy is so hot and wet it feels like I need to jump back in the ocean or…
No. The “or” isn’t an option. Not yet. Damian knows what to say to make me want to leave logic and good sense at the door, but I still don’t know enough about him.
“That’s--well,” I say, clearing my throat and taking a drink from the glass of wine I just noticed by my plate. “That’s good to know.”
I shift in my chair at the office, struggling to think of anything but him. I let out a long breath, shaking my head.
“So?” asks Melina, who rolls her chair over during Greg’s usual bathroom break.
“So what?” I ask, but we both know exactly what she’s talking about.
She gives me a dry look. “Don’t make me beg for details. You know I’ll do it. I’ll get down on my knees. I’ll suck your toes.”
“Ew,” I laugh. “I’ll tell you as long as you promise not to suck my toes.”
“Deal. Why, were they already sucked last night on your wild date with Mr. Billionaire?”
“No, for starters. And what makes you think he’s a billionaire?”
Melina clicks her tongue in disappointment. “Young Kylie. One of these days I’ll introduce you to this crazy thing called the internet, where all the answers you could ever want are right there at your fingertips.”
“I’m not an idiot. I just,” I clear my throat, realizing I’m about to admit just how reckless I’ve been so far. “I don’t actually know his last name.”
“I didn’t either,” she says. “I didn’t even know his first name. But there are only so many billionaires in the world, so finding a list of billionaires with homes in California wasn’t hard at all. Then I just had to cross-reference the names with pictures annnd, tada! In less than four minutes I had a sizzling picture of Mr. Damian Price on my computer screen. Thirtieth richest man in the US, business and real estate tycoon, blah blah blah. Point is, he has a lot of money, and he’s hot as hell. And you went on a date with him last night. So you had better spill every last detail or so help me God, I’ll take you into the broom closet and waterboard you.”
“You’ll waterboard me? First you want to suck my toes and now you’re going after my boobs?”
She spits out a surprised laugh. “Waterboard, Kylie. You’re thinking of motor-boating. Waterboarding is torture, motor-boating is… never mind. The point is I’ll torture your innocent little ass if I have to.”
I grin. “You’re absolutely crazy.”
“Yeah,” she says, bulging her eyes threateningly. “So don’t test me, bitch.”
I laugh, covering my mouth quickly incase Greg has lurked back into the office. The sound of laughter draws his attention as quickly as blood in the water draws a shark. He can smell fun from miles off and will come to stomp it out as fast as he can.
I spend the next few minutes filling her in on every detail of the date. When I’m finished, her eyes are dreamy. She leans back and raises her eyebrows with a satisfied sigh. “Wow. I didn’t even know they had a place like that. And the whole private dinner on the beach thing? That was a nice touch. Very nice. So what next? Are you seeing him tonight? This afternoon? On your lunch break? I need more!”
“Calm down, I mean, I don’t even know for sure. He said he wanted to see me again, but we didn’t set anything in stone.”
“He drove you back home, you didn’t even kiss him, and he just said he wanted to see you again?”
I shrug, hoping she doesn’t see the guilty look on my face. I may not have told her absolutely everything, like the fact that Damian walked me to my door and gave me a kiss that still has my knees feeling like warm butter.
I kissed him even though I told myself to wait. But I don’t know who could’ve resisted in my position. Who could stay cold under those blazing blue eyes of his?
“He might have been a little more specific than that,” I admit.
“Like how?”
“He said he wanted to bring me to a BDSM club. He said I didn’t have to do anything, but he wanted me to see what it was like to be his submissive for a night.”
Melina’s jaw literally drops. “He’s into BDSM? Are you serious?”
“You’re surprised? I met him at that crazy party you made me go to. You know, the one with the room full of people in red clothes who were slapping each other with whips and having sex out in the open?”
“I already told you I didn’t know about that little section of the party. I totally would’ve crashed that area if I knew.”
“Well, do you remember the guy I told you about three years ago in the airport? The computer cords he tied around my wrists…”
She claps her hands to her face. “It’s him?” she gasps. “Shut up!”
“No!” I hiss, looking around for Greg. “You shut up before you bring Greg down on us both.”
She rubs her hands over her knees, shaking her head. “This is so insanely cool, Kylie. You know you have to go right? You need to fuck him. Not just for yourself. Not just for me. For every woman alive. You need to go to that club and be his little submissive, whatever that even means, and you need to enjoy every fucking second of it. Do you understand me? I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll disown you if you pass this up.”
I roll my eyes, smiling a little. “You can’t swear on your mother’s grave if she’s not dead yet.”
“Just because she’s still alive doesn’t mean we haven’t ordered the headstone.”
“Seriously?” I ask, frowning in disgust.
She tries to look offended, but can’t pull it off. “It doesn’t matter if we’ve ordered the stupid headstone. All that matters is you and him going to that club. I’ll watch Dean for
you if I have to.”
“Angie’s still with me for another couple days, thanks to Alec.”
“See? You have no excuse. Literally no excuse.”
I rub my temples. “You are like a bulldog sometimes. You know that? You just grab on and don’t let go until you get what you want.”
She snaps her teeth playfully at me.
I laugh. “I’ll go, but only so you’ll get off my back about it.”
Damian helps me out of his car in front of a place in a very ritzy part of the city that looks like a nondescript brick box. “This is it?” I ask, feeling a little unimpressed. I was expecting a sleek, modern style building with big floodlights or something. Maybe a huge neon sign of a woman with a whip.
“High profile clients,” he says. “They would rather not broadcast what kind of club this is to anybody who happens to be driving by. You’ll find senators, actors, TV personalities, doctors, and any other type of person you can imagine inside. I’m not just talking about the men, either.”
I take in a deep breath, feeling my stomach flutter with nerves. Damian brought me something to wear, and I’m already feeling self-conscious in it even though there is hardly anybody nearby to see me. The dress fits loosely, but the material is thin enough I could see my underwear and the outline of my body with relative ease. When I tried telling him there was no way I could go out in public like this, he assured me I’d feel even more out of place if I went in there dressed conservatively.
I’m just glad Dean was already asleep when I left. I could never let him see me in something like this, even if he’s still too young to understand. As much as all of this is exciting me, the sneaking around after Dean goes to bed has me reexamining everything. Isn’t that exactly the kind of thing I was afraid Damian would bring? I don’t want to feel like I have to hide my life from my son. Yes, it may be my sex life, but should my sex life really be such a big part of my life that I have to go out of the way to hide it from him?
“There are a few rules once we go inside,” he says, turning to face me. He looks mouth-watering, as usual. His suit is black--fitting him snug in the right places so that it emphasizes his masculine frame perfectly. He wears a white collared shirt beneath and a black tie, making the simple colors somehow look striking. Even with a body like his, it’s his eyes that always demand my attention. They carry so much weight it’s like they have a gravity of their own, drawing my eyes up and up until I’m locked into those blazing blue eyes that always seem to be full of heat.
“Rules?” I ask. “Like the club’s rules?”
“Some of them. Some of them are my rules for you,” he says with a very serious tone and expression that makes me gulp down my response. “The club rules are based on what type of jewelry you wear. The more jewelry, the more off-limits you are. A necklace means you have a dom,” he says, pulling a necklace from his jacket pocket and putting it around my neck.”
I grin a little, feeling my cheeks burn. I have a dom. I’m his. But my dom doesn’t know we have a son together. The thought sends a guilty stab of panic through me. Somewhere along the way it started to feel like he deserved to know. Hell, he always deserved to know, but I was being overly cautious. I knew if he knew the full truth about Dean, he’d stop at nothing to be part of his life. And if I didn’t want to be part of Damian’s life, there’s no question about whether he has the financial means to take Dean from me. Not that I think he’d do that, it’s just… Now that I’m getting to know him more, I know I should’ve told him the moment he first saw him. I should tell him now.
Except now I’m afraid of what might happen. What if he walks away? What if withholding the truth makes him so angry with me that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? Worse, what if he decides to take Dean from me? Using an expensive army of lawyers to teach me a lesson?
He wouldn’t do that. I’m only thinking those kinds of things because they make it easier for me to avoid doing what I need to do. I’ll tell him. Tonight. I don’t know when, but I’ll tell him.
“Bracelets mean your dom isn’t willing to share. One bracelet,” he says, sliding a diamond studded bracelet onto my wrist, “means your dom doesn’t want another man to touch you. Two,” he says, sliding on another. “Means your dom doesn’t want another man to speak to you. And three,” he says with no hint of a smile, “means your dom doesn’t want any men to make eye contact with you.”
I look up at him seriously. “What if I accidentally look at someone?”
He grips my chin, tilting my eyes up to his. “Then I’ll have to punish you.”
A chill runs through me, but it’s not entirely cold. This is another side of him. I’ve seen him with his guard down. I’ve seen that he can be sweet, considerate, and thoughtful. He’s good with Dean, too. But this side of him? It reminds me of what he was like in that conference room. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. The truth is I still feel the same thrill and freedom from being commanded, from being dominated.
He takes out a pair of diamond earrings and puts them in my ears.
“What do these mean?” I ask, wondering what other possible restrictions there could be.
“They mean your dom bought you earrings and wanted to see you in them.”
I laugh.
He watches me approvingly. He doesn’t smile, but there’s a slight change in his eyes that shows his amusement. I brace myself for tonight. Yesterday, I enjoyed the lighter side of Damian, he was almost playful. I could see myself falling head over heels for that Damian. At the same time, this serious, almost scary side of him is incredibly sexy. I don’t know if the effect he has on me will fade with time, but right now, I know I’m helpless when he’s this way.
It’s the same sense of power that made me do something so crazy I never would’ve even dreamed it three years ago, and I can already feel that I’m at his mercy as completely as I was that day.
“Now for my rules,” he says.
More rules? What more could there be? Don’t look at, talk to, or touch any other guy in this place. What other trouble could I possibly get into?
“Inside, you’ll call me Sir. You’ll stay within arm’s reach of me at all times. You will treat my word like law. If I say it, you will do it. And the most important rule is to use the safe words. Yellow means you’re nearing your limit, and red means stop.”
“You won’t be angry with me?” I ask.
“Kitten,” he says, stroking my cheek with his thumb and pulling me to him. “My only goal is your pleasure. My job as your dom is to challenge you, to bring you to your limit, to find thrills you never would on your own, and to give you the most mind-shatteringly perfect orgasms you’ve ever had. A relationship between a dom and his submissive requires more trust than a normal relationship. Much more. If I’m going to bring you to the edge of your comfort, I need to trust that you’ll tell me if it goes too far. And you need to trust that I won’t be angry if you stop me. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Sir,” he corrects. “The next one will cost you.”
“Cost me what?” I ask.
“You’ll be punished, and my punishments can get creative.”
“But I’m supposed to enjoy the punishment, right? What if I just disobeyed you because I wanted to be punished?”
He shows me the first sign of his more relaxed self and grins. “Then I’d find ways to make sure my kitten didn’t behave so mischievously. The relationship between dominants and submissives isn’t just about sex. Honestly, the sex is secondary. The true reward is the bond. There’s no stronger bond on earth than the bond we could form if we put our trust in each other completely.”
I nearly tell him about Dean right then, but listening to him talk about the club already has me itching to go inside. I want what he’s promising. I want it so badly it hurts. If my biggest worry about him is that I can’t trust him to be in our son’s life, then what better way to learn if I can trust him than this? I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m also
so turned on right now I don’t think I could make myself get the words out. I want him too badly. I want to be his again, even if it’s just one last time.
“I want to try,” I say.
He bends his neck to kiss me softly on the lips.
I lean into it, savoring the taste and the way his powerful arms encircle me, making me feel small and safe at the same time. He pulls back with what I think is more than a hint of reluctance. For a second, it looks like he might push me back into the car and take me there, but he must overcome the desire, because he puts his hand on my lower back instead.
“This way, Kitten.”
The two men standing outside the door who look more like secret service than bouncers nod to him and open the door.
The club interior appears to be lit entirely by candlelight and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. We walk directly into what seems to be a main gathering area that branches off into several smaller sections and hallways. The walls are paneled in deep, rich woods and lined with alcoves that hold candles. Chandeliers holding dozens of lit candles hang beautifully from the ceiling as well. I scan the crowd, which is bigger than I thought it would be, but I’m careful not to make eye-contact with any of the men.
Many wear masks, not unlike what I saw at the masquerade party I went to with Melina and Alec, but some don’t. The men all wear expensive suits, though none make theirs look nearly as good as Damian does, I notice with pride. Damian was right about my clothes. Compared to what many of the women are wearing, I still look prudish even with a see-through dress.
One woman wears a leather bikini, the top has open holes for her nipples, which are pierced with three silver rods. Another wears a dress even more transparent than mine but she’s completely naked beneath. Her dom has a silver leash around her neck and he’s leading her to one of the darkened rooms in the back.
“Am I allowed to make any rules?” I ask. “Like that you don’t get to look at any of these women?”
Damian looks down to me, taking my hands and making me face him. “There’s only one woman I want to look at. The one I spent the last three years of my life searching for, and the one I will do anything to keep from slipping away again. They are nothing, Kitten.”
Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Page 8
