by Shelly Bell
He flinched, returning the cup to the bar. “I’m sorry. You make me nervous. I seem to be doing everything all wrong when it comes to you. I really like you, Isabella.” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ears then took her hand. “Come on. I’ll write you that check.”
The back of her neck prickled as he led her upstairs to a hallway with several closed doors she assumed were the bedrooms. He opened one and stepped inside, flicking on the lights.
She released his hand to grip the doorframe, noting the huge, unmade bed in the middle of the room. “I’ll wait out here.”
He frowned. “Trust me. It’s safer in here with me than out there with a bunch of my drunk frat brothers.”
With the door open, she figured she’d be safe. Besides, she had a can of pepper spray in her purse and she wasn’t afraid to use it.
While he snagged a checkbook off his dresser, she stepped inside, spotting a couple torn condom wrappers by the trashcan. Her warning bells rang louder, and for protection, she stayed a few feet away from him while he wrote out the check.
He tore it out of the checkbook and held it out to her, but as soon as she reached for it, he pulled his hand back. “Not so fast. I want a kiss first.”
Annoyed, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Just give me the check, Jordan.”
He waved the check back and forth. “I can add another zero, Isabella. Hell, I could cut you a check with two more zeros. How ‘bout it? Fifteen-thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for a girl like you.”
What the hell? Did he think this was Pretty Woman? “I’m not a prostitute. You can’t buy me.”
“Of course I can.” He smiled, the way he was looking at her making her feel as though she was naked and on display. “Everybody’s got their price. Besides, I’m not talking about whoring yourself out to me. Think of it as a mutually beneficial relationship.”
She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “I thought you weren’t interested in relationships.”
“I’m not. I need the right kind of woman on my arm if I’m ever going to become CEO of my father’s business.”
“And I’m that woman?”
“No. You’re the one I’d like to get down and dirty with. Like a mistress.” His gaze went to the bed before returning to her. “And in turn, I’ll make sure your financial needs are met.”
Fuck this. She’d give him one more chance to give her the check and then it was pepper spray time. She held out her hand. “You’re disgusting. Just give me the check for the cake pops and take me home.”
His jaw tightened as he handed it to her. “Here’s your check, but I’m not taking you home. I never leave a party without at least getting a blow job. And I’m not talking about your mediocre dessert.”
Without thought, she slapped his cheek. “Fuck you.”
She twirled and ran from the room, grabbing her cell phone from her purse. Thank God she hadn’t forgotten to charge it. Fleeing out the front door, she dialed her roommate and got her voicemail. “Cat, I’m stuck at the frat house. If you get this message, can you call me back?” Hanging up, she checked over her shoulder, relieved Jordan hadn’t followed. Shivering, she still felt as though someone was watching her.
The night was cool and dark and the street completely deserted. It wasn’t too far to walk back to her dorm, but she’d only do that if she absolutely had to. Surely, someone would give her a ride. Maybe she could go back inside and ask one of the girls. Of course, she couldn’t trust that they hadn’t been drinking or getting high.
She should’ve listened to Tristan and not have gone out with Jordan in the first place.
She was so determined to be a normal college student, but she wasn’t one and she never would be. Once a person stared death in the face, they could no longer pretend evil didn’t exist in this world. Her one attempt at normalcy in college and she’d already been reminded that she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself to keep her safe.
No, that wasn’t exactly true.
There was one other person who she trusted implicitly.
Before she could change her mind, she dialed and hit send. As if he’d been waiting for her call, he picked up on the first ring.
“Isabella.” He said her name with concern in his voice.
She took a ragged breath, knowing she was asking for more than a ride. “I’m sorry for bothering you on a Friday night, but I didn’t have anyone else to call and I need help.”
Chapter 6
Tristan cranked up the velocity of the windshield wipers, swearing at the top of his lungs when he hit another red light. Five minutes had passed since Isabella had called him, stranded by that asshole Barrington at a goddamned frat party she had no business attending. His blood boiled at the thought that she had gone and placed herself in danger despite his warning.
But he had no say over what she did. She might be his student and his employee, but she was nothing more to him, even though his palm itched to teach her what happened to a sub who didn’t listen to her Dom.
At the vision of his hand on her bare ass, a liquid warmth soothed the savage beast within him. His cock grew as hard as a rock, but unless Isabella made the first move, it was going to stay that way for the time being.
There was no question he wanted her in his bed. On his desk. Under his desk. And everywhere in between. But he wanted more than her pussy. He craved her submission, needed it like fire needed oxygen to burn.
There had been numerous women throughout the years. Plenty of women who’d kneel and suck his dick upon command. They offered their submission and he’d accepted, the nights ending with orgasms for them both. But that was it.
He’d always said he didn’t want more than one night with a sub because he hadn’t yet met her.
The others had merely teased him with the idea of submission, but when Angel had gifted him with hers, it had left a mark on him just as real as the ones he’d made on her skin that night. He’d gotten a taste of what it would be like to own her body and soul, and he hungered to taste it again.
He turned down the street, and there she was, standing by the side of the road. His headlights fell on her like a spotlight, and his breath caught as he took in the sight of her. No jacket. No umbrella. Wearing nothing but a skirt and a blouse that had turned translucent from the rain, her nipples apparent even from where he sat warm in his car.
He pulled up beside her and rolled down the passenger side window. “Get in,” he commanded, trying to stay in control.
She squinted, pushing her red locks from her eyes and got in the car. “You got here quickly.”
It didn’t feel quick. “My apartment is nearby.”
“I’m really sorry I pulled you out of your house on a night like this.”
He avoided looking at her, keeping his eyes on the road, but it didn’t matter. The image of her wet and vulnerable, rain cascading down her pale skin, was burned onto his retinas. Her vanilla scent filled the car, taunting him. “Better you call me than risk your life walking home in the dark,” he said, his voice tight and gritty.
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re white-knuckling the wheel, and I can hear you popping your jaw.” She lowered her voice as if by speaking quieter, his anger would lessen. “Obviously, you’re mad.”
He glanced at his hands. Hell, she was right. “Fine. You want to know the truth? I’m angry at that pissant Jordan for the way he treated you.” He didn’t want to get into it with her, preferring to keep things simple, but now that she had opened the door, he couldn’t stop himself.
Her teeth were chattering. “I shouldn’t have told you that, but I didn’t want you to think I was using you as a taxi service.”
He upped the car’s heat. “Why shouldn’t you have told me the truth? Do you actually want to protect the guy?”
“He’s your student. I wouldn’t want this to affect his grade.”
What. The. Fuck.
He veered to the s
ide of the road, hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. A loud clap of thunder shook the car. “Is that what you think of me? You think I’m the type of man who would allow my personal feelings for someone to dictate my professional actions?” He turned to her. “If that were true, I’d flip up that skirt of yours and turn your ass a deep shade of red with my hand before fucking that tight pussy of yours until my come and yours ran down your thighs.”
Her lips parted and her pupils dilated. “If you’re not angry at me then why do you want to spank me?” she whispered.
“Because I warned you about Jordan and you ignored me.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, his thumb brushing over the hollow of her throat. “Because it’s not my job to protect you, but I want it to be. Because when I woke up last week ready to fuck you again, you had disappeared without a trace.” The sharp scent of her arousal mixed with the vanilla, making his mouth water. “And now you’re sitting in my car like a piece of forbidden fruit that I’ve only had one taste of. I know what it’s like to have your submission. I’ve tasted your sweetness, and I want more of it. I want to drink you down my throat until I’m drunk on you.”
There was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever.
“I’ve never been spanked,” she said breathlessly. “Does it hurt?”
A heady warmth suffused him. The idea of punishing her filled him with a peace he hadn’t felt in years. “Yes. It wouldn’t always, but tonight, it would be about discipline.”
Her brows furrowed, a cute little notch forming between her eyes. “I thought you didn’t do commitment. We agreed it would only be one night.”
He tightened his grip on her neck. “Was that enough for you? Or are you wet and aching for me right now?”
She looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m always wet and aching around you.”
He groaned. She was going to kill him. “Show me. Spread those gorgeous legs of yours and finger yourself until I tell you to stop.” He reluctantly withdrew his hand from her cool skin and resumed driving, making a right rather than a left at the intersection.
She was coming home with him.
Her skirt inched up her thighs as she spread her thighs and her fingers disappeared between them. Thunder rumbled and bits of hail popped on the windshield, but neither could mask the sound of Isabella’s fingers plunging in and out of her wet cunt. He peeked over at her, marveling at the beauty of her submission. She was completely aroused, her eyes hooded and her breathing rapid.
“Stop,” he ordered, sensing she was close to climax. Her hands stilled and she blew out a breath. “Good girl. Now show me those fingers.” As he pulled into his apartment complex, she removed her fingers and held them up for his perusal. He inhaled deeply, smelling her arousal as strongly as if his nose was buried in her pussy. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you, Angel?” He couldn’t wait to devour her, but for now, he’d feast on her submission. “Suck on them. Taste yourself.”
She bit her lip. “I . . .”
“You’ve never tasted yourself, have you?” His cock pressed painfully against the fly of his jeans. “Do you want to use your safe word?” At the shake of her head, he lowered his tone, using what he thought of as his Dom voice. “Then, I’m ordering you to taste yourself.”
This time she didn’t pause. She stuck her fingers in her mouth.
“Spread your wetness along your tongue,” he ordered, pleased by her response. “That’s a good girl.” He parked the car and turned off the ignition.
Bringing her to his apartment was risky, but he wouldn’t degrade them by taking her to a motel. There weren’t any students living in his building, and although it was possible some other professors resided there, he hadn’t run into any yet. If he had to guess, he’d wager his complex was below the standard of living a professor would prefer. Rent was cheap and the décor probably hadn’t been updated since the eighties. The only reason students didn’t live here was because the landlord required his tenants to have good credit.
He undid his seatbelt then leaned over the center console to unsnap hers. “You realize what we’re doing is forbidden. We’re not only violating the university code of ethics, but a Dom/sub relationship is considered taboo by most of society. If we move forward with this, it has to be a secret.”
She swallowed hard. “Just as long as I’m in your class and your assistant, right?”
“Theoretically, we wouldn’t be violating the rules once you’re no longer in my class or working for me, but if we went public afterward, people would assume correctly that our affair started much earlier. There would be an investigation, and Dean Lancaster is well aware of my involvement in the BDSM scene. That would mean he’d understand the nature of our relationship, and given my position of authority and our age difference, he’d fire me on the spot. That wouldn’t be the end of the world for me career-wise, but it would no doubt affect my friendship with the man. Plus, I’m not sure how you’d feel about him knowing you’re a submissive.”
“I’m excellent at keeping secrets, and frankly, I don’t know that I am a submissive,” she said, taking his hand. “But I do know I’d like to be yours.”
He plunged his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head. “Give me your mouth.” She tentatively pressed her lips against his, waiting for him to take command of the kiss. She was fucking perfect, her flavor enhanced by the taste of her pussy still on her tongue. It took everything he had to stop and not fuck her in the car. His cock would have to wait just a little bit longer. “You taste even better than I remembered. Before we do this, you’re going to understand exactly what you’re agreeing to. I want you to sign a submissive contract. Do you know what that is?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’ve read my cousin’s. This lifestyle is something I’ve been studying for months. I understand the dynamics of a power exchange.”
“Every relationship is different, so I can’t begin to assume I know about Dreama’s relationship with her Dom, but for me, BDSM is more than fun and games. I meant what I said earlier about disciplining you. I’ll require you to follow my rules, and if you break one, I’ll punish you.”
“Like me going out with Jordan tonight? Trust me, I learned my lesson.”
“Not yet, you haven’t.” He tipped up her chin. “But if you say yes, by the end of this night, you will.”
***
Isabella was inside Tristan Kelley’s apartment. And it was nothing like she’d imagined. “You live here?”
Coming from his bedroom, he brought her a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Surprised?”
“It’s kind of dumpy,” she said, instantly regretting speaking. “I thought . . . I mean, you said you and Ryder owned a big company, but neither of you are living large.” The beige carpet was threadbare and the space smaller than she’d expect a man like Tristan to live in. There was a galley kitchen off the living room, a couch, a round dining room table, and one bedroom.
He opened up a folder laying on the table and rifled through some papers. “For now, we both take a modest salary, but the majority of the company’s earnings goes into research and development. Besides, neither of us is the type to flaunt our wealth, even if we had it.”
She rubbed the towel on her head, drying her hair. “Really. So if you were a multi-millionaire, you wouldn’t live any differently? You’d still live in this apartment?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that, but I wouldn’t buy more than I need. Money isn’t important to me.” Smiling, he shrugged and offered her a document. “This is the contract. You don’t need to sign it tonight, but I would like you to take it home to read and call me if you have any questions. If you decide to sign it, you can bring it to me on Monday.”
She folded it in half and tucked it into her purse. “I realize you don’t do commitments, but before anything else happens between us, I need to know that this is an exclusive relationship.” While Tristan was nothing like Jordan, his words remained fresh in her mind. “I won’t be your playth
ing to fuck while you take the right type of girl out to dinner, and I won’t be just another sub for you to spank when you get the urge. I might have been bold in my declaration for a one-night stand, but honestly, you were my first and only.”
Shuffling from foot to foot, she waited for a reaction from Tristan. His expression was completely blank, which only worked to make her more uncomfortable. “Before you, I’d been with one guy, and I dated him for nearly four years. So while I’m not looking for a marriage proposal, I’m also not the kind of girl who feels comfortable being intimate with a man who’s seeing other women.” She waived her hand around. “Or men, if that’s your thing. We really haven’t gotten into all of our sexual preferences.” She paused. Just kill her now. “You’re not saying anything.”
“Honestly, I don’t know where to start,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “First, I fully intend for our relationship to be exclusive since we’ve only shared one night together and I’m already bothered by the thought of anyone else’s hands on you.” He took a step closer to her. “Second, I don’t know what kind of asshole made you think you’re not the right type of girl, because, honey, as long as he’s a real man, you’re his type. I happen to be one of those men, and if we didn’t have to keep this a secret, I promise you, I’d take you out to dinner and show you off every chance I got.” He settled his hands on her waist. “But I’m not going to lie. Unfortunately, other than the occasional working dinner, our time spent together will have to be behind closed doors. Is that going to be okay with you?”
She looked up at him, her pulse kicking up a notch. “Yes. I’m too busy to go on dates anyway.”
“If you sign that contract, all of your weekends will belong to me unless you’re working.” He walked her backward until she was flush with the wall. “I want you to come over with a bag on Friday after our office hours and stay through Sunday night. No one can know where you are, and if you’re caught, just tell them we were working. I’ll get you a key.” He leaned in and sunk his teeth into her earlobe. “What’s your safe word, Angel?”
