That’s weird. Who would drive on Trevor’s lawn?
Walking down the wooden stairway that led to the lawn, she realized what was going on. This was Trevor’s garage. She’d heard a BAD Boy rumor about a twenty-car garage with cars worth more than a house, which apparently was saying something in Westchester. But the garage was empty.
Completely empty.
She picked up her blue phone, not sure if she should call the police, Trevor, or Adele. She pressed speed-dial 2.
“This is Adele.”
“Adele, it’s Elisabeth, Trevor’s, um, house guest?”
“How are you enjoying your stay?” Adele’s voice was cheery but Elisabeth could tell she was talking and walking at the same time, probably in a rush somewhere.
“I stepped outside and happened to notice that Trevor’s garage is empty. Is that normal?”
No answer.
“Hello?” Shit. She looked at the phone, wondering if it was on mute or something, when Adele said sighed so loudly she could hear it through the phone.
“Stay where you are. I’m calling Trevor.” And although Elisabeth couldn’t swear to it, it sounded like Adele hung up the phone while cursing under her breath, and quite colorfully at that.
Less than a minute later, Trevor ran down the back-porch steps to stand next to her. “Hi,” he said, giving her a quick glance. “Why is Adele having a breakdown?”
“Your garage is empty?” It came out sounding like a question, even though she knew that was the case. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just noticed and called her to find out if maybe you have them all taken out for a weekly cleaning or something.”
“No, I do not.” Trevor’s voice was calm, but she could tell he was completely freaked out, because his immaculate hair was messy, as if he’d been running his hands through it.
“In case you’re wondering, I don’t know any car thieves, and even if I did, they don’t know I’m here. So if that thought is going through your mind right now, please . . . don’t think that way.” Elisabeth looked at him, but he kept staring at his empty garage.
She grabbed his arm. “You know this isn’t my fault, right? Please just tell me you’re not thinking horrible thoughts about me right now.”
Trevor finally looked over at her and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know this has nothing to do with you. I had you completely checked out before I even asked for an introduction, remember?”
“Just how much do you know about me?” Did he know about how she grew up? That her mother was a heroin addict?
Elisabeth had to glance away from his green eyes before they saw any deeper into her, into her secrets.
And that’s when she saw the cars.
“Trevor!”
He followed her finger, pointing up, to the roof of the garage. All twenty cars, in rows. On the fucking roof.
Trevor laughed and cursed at the same time. “Fucking Marc and his pranks. Come out, asshole! You motherfucker, how the hell did you pull this one off?”
Marc and Roman stepped out from behind the garage. Roman held a video camera, taping Trevor’s cursing tirade.
“Stop cursing! I want to upload this to YouTube later!” Marc called, and the other two guys erupted into laughter as well.
What the hell? So this is what guys with way too much money did for fun. Elaborate pranks.
“Get my cars back in the garage, Marc, I mean it!” Trevor yelled jovially, but he ran down toward them just the same.
Marc and Roman had placed a huge car ramp against the side of the building, and apparently the two of them had taken turns driving the cars out of the garage, up the ramp, and onto the roof.
“Come on, Elisabeth,” Marc called. “Ever drive an Aston Martin down a ramp?”
Oh God.
Of course she hadn’t, hadn’t even been in the vicinity of the type of cars Trevor owned. She didn’t even know the names of them. “How do I get up to the roof?” she asked.
“We hike.” Trevor took her hand and she joined them walking up the ramp to the roof.
“These are amazing,” she whispered. “I’ve never been a car person, but I could become one. These are fucking hot.” She pointed to a white one that looked like a spaceship. “What’s that?”
Trevor smoothed his hair. “It was a bit extravagant, I know. It’s a Koenigsegg Agera R.”
“That means nothing to me. Rolls-Royce I know. Lamborghini I know.”
Marc jangled the keys in his hands. “That car cost almost two million.”
Elisabeth gasped. “No.”
“Yes.” Roman was still videotaping.
She turned to Trevor, suddenly upset, done with the prank. “You could have used two million dollars to feed people who are starving. To build schools. To . . . how could you spend all that money on a stupid car that never even sees the light of day?”
Trevor nodded. “I completely agree. Do some research for me, and tell me how you’d like to give two million to charity, and we’ll do it.”
“Just like that. You’ll just give me two million to give to charity, no argument.” Elisabeth eyed him warily, waiting for the catch. What was with these guys?
Roman shut off the camera. “Trevor would never tell you how much we give to charity every year because he’s too modest, but I will. It’s a fuck load more than a paltry two million.”
“So I can really have two million dollars for charity? Two million American dollars?”
Trevor laughed. “Only if you help me drive these things back into my garage without crashing them.”
“I don’t actually have a driver’s license, sir.”
“Oh. Well. We’ll leave it to the boys while we sit back and drink some beers and watch, how about that?”
“Okay. I’m going to be thinking about charities though, okay?” She wasn’t going to let that go. She knew there were women, like her mother, who desperately needed help getting clean and on their feet again. There were kids, like she had been, who went without groceries because their moms spent the welfare check on crack.
“Elisabeth, you’ve got a good heart. If you can find charities that are nonprofit and tax-deductible, my CPA would appreciate it, but if not we can form one.”
Wow.
True to his word, Trevor got on his cell phone and had two lawn chairs and a six-pack brought out so they could sit back and watch Marc and Roman race down the ramp in Trevor’s cars.
“This is what you do for fun,” she mused.
“Well, we can’t always be in the bedroom, now can we?” He leaned in as if to kiss her, but he stopped himself. “Sorry. I keep forgetting.”
Kiss me, she thought. Just do it. But she didn’t say it, and he didn’t do it.
True to Trevor’s word, that blue cell phone rang often, and so she was careful to obey Rule Number Two, keeping it charged and on her person at all times so she could answer immediately. It made Rule Number One, respect and obey him while she was his “house guest,” easier for her to do when she carried the marks and bruises from their games.
“What’s this?” she asked, when Trevor handed her a stack of papers.
“You asked for my labs from my doctor. See? I’m officially pronounced healthy and free of STDs.”
“Thank you for doing that for me,” she said. “I’m honored.”
“I can never tell when you’re being sarcastic or not.”
She laughed. “I’m serious. I’m honored that you took the time to do something that was important to me, for my health. I appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate the opportunity to feel you without a layer of latex coming between us.”
One day after an incredible afternoon of fucking, Julian playfully kicked Trevor out so he could have a chance to “doll up Miss Thang for dinner.”
Elisabeth got out of bed naked, but Julian di
dn’t bat an eye, not at her nakedness or her bruises. Perhaps he’d seen it all before.
Trevor gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. They’d graduated to that, at least. “Call me when you’re ready, nothing fancy. We’re just going to eat here.”
Julian called to Trevor as he walked out the door. “Hon. Body makeup on those boo-boos?”
Trevor smiled. “No. She wears them as a badge of honor. Let her keep her them if they make her happy.”
The door shut behind him and she stood in front of Julian. “I shaved my gorilla legs,” she offered.
“I’m not sayin’ a thing. Not a thing. Here, put this on before I throw up my cocktail from looking at all them bruises.” He handed her a simple black sheath dress and pink kitten heels.
“More pink?” she muttered, but slipped them on. “And that was saying something, by the way. Just so you know.”
“Girl, you beautiful, you know that. But I also know that Trevor’s got a little issue of his own—”
“It’s not an issue, any more than you being into dudes is an issue. It’s just how I’m wired, how he’s wired.” She sat down and let him start applying dramatic black eyeliner to her lower lids. “I bet you would say you knew you were gay since you were a child, right?”
“Why you think I’m gay?” he gasped, and pulled away the eyeliner so he wouldn’t poke her when she started laughing. “So you sayin’ you’ve been up in this business since you was a kid. And so was Trevor.”
“I can’t speak for Trevor, but I’ve always been fascinated by kink, even before I knew what kink was. I’m not ashamed of it. I just go with it, I own it, like you do. I’m a flaming kinkster, how’s that?”
Julian raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Pucker up, baby girl,” he said, and applied lip gloss. Pink, to match the heels.
An hour later, Elisabeth walked down the hallway to the main staircase, which she descended so slowly anyone watching her would think she was hesitant about going to the dining room, when really she was more afraid of tumbling down the stairs to her death. Maybe next time she’d take off her heels and walk down barefoot, then put them back on before anyone noticed.
“You look amazing.” Trevor’s voice at the bottom of the stairs surprised her, and she grasped the polished wooden railing for support.
“Julian’s great.”
“He has a lovely canvas to start with,” he said, and took her hand to help her down the last step. “I’m enjoying seeing you in clothing.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Trevor paused and looked at her. “Remember how I said we weren’t dating, and that you were here as my guest only?”
Flushing, she nodded. It had humiliated her, especially with the quick spank that went with the words. “Don’t worry sir. I remember. We’re not dating, I’m working for you as your—”
Trevor stopped the words sex-slave from escaping her lips by kissing her, hard and deep. “Oh, Elisabeth, I’m sorry.” He looked chagrined, a look she’d never seen on his face before. “I didn’t mean to kiss you without your consent,” he said, pulling back.
“You have my consent. I’ve been wanting you to steal a kiss for a while now,” she admitted, and stood up on her heels, offering him her lips once more. “Letting me manage that charity money, I think you more than earned a kiss.”
“I hope I haven’t bought you,” he whispered, holding her close. “I want you to want me for more than that.”
Excitement fluttered within her stomach. This was what all the fuss was about, when people talked about crushes and relationships and falling for someone. And as much as it would hurt when it all ended, she was having the time of her life right now.
“I do, sir. Absolutely.”
“I take back what I said that first night. I want to date you, starting tonight. You look too beautiful to keep inside—I want to show you off. And you don’t need to call me Master or Sir unless we’re in D/s mode.”
D/s mode? What any other modes were there?
“I don’t understand, sir—um, Trevor.”
“Don’t you ever want to relax a little?” he asked. “When I have sex, I want it to be fun. I like toys, I like bondage. I love that you get wet from even the thought of pain.”
“We are good together in the bedroom,” she agreed.
“But sometimes I want to just go out on a date with a girl I like. A girl who happens to trust me, and obey me.”
“I thought we were staying in?” She asked that because it was surely better than informing him that obedience was not her strong suit, since disobedience got her what she wanted much faster. He’d find out the more time he spent with her . . . soon enough, she supposed.
And then she’d see if he really did find her worth a price above rubies. Probably not. Only Gregory didn’t mind her disobedience, because he loved devising punishments for her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“What, my thoughts? They’re worth at least ten dollars.” She winked at Trevor to let him know she was joking, but she liked that he’d noticed she’d been daydreaming. It showed he’d be cognizant of her needs when they scened together, as he’d been so far. But their time together was only just beginning.
There was so much to learn about him still. So much for him to learn about her too.
“So,” she said, “you got me to move into your house, and by choosing to stay here I’m also choosing to be your sex-slave, but you’re asking me if you can date me? The logic doesn’t flow.”
“Well, it does to me. This relationship is going to have to happen backward.”
Chapter Three
The idea of going out in public on a typical, vanilla date with this man petrified Elisabeth. Kink she could do. If he told her he wanted to walk her down Times Square on a leash, she’d be more comfortable than him telling her he wanted to take her out for dinner instead of staying in.
Trevor was so handsome, though, and so charming. How could she resist?
So why was she terrified? Breathe, she told herself. It was only a date. With the billionaire Dom who happened to be test-driving her as a permanent sex-slave, and to possibly wear his collar someday. No big deal.
“I’d love to go out.”
“Great!” Pulling out his cell phone, he pressed a number and said, “Hey Carl, change of plans. I’d like you to drive us to dinner. No, not the city. We’ll go up to Putnam.”
“Putnam?” Elisabeth asked. What was in Putnam County that would be better than in Manhattan?
Trevor grinned and held his arm out to her, guiding her out the front door and down the steps to the waiting town car. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“I do, sir. Trevor.” Was that true? Did she trust him yet, really? Maybe for something like dinner, but trust took time to build. If anything, their time together in the bedroom allowed her to start to build that trust. He was never sloppy, never ignored her concerns.
The drive up to Putnam County was beautiful. The autumn leaves were on full display, and the roads became narrow and curving as they twisted around New York’s natural hills and lakes. There were so many lakes up there. She could imagine in the summertime, how everyone would jump in to cool off. What would her life be like if she’d grown up out here in the country, instead of in the cramped high-rise apartment, with drug dealers on every corner, asking her where her mother was?
The car drove up a steep hill on a dirt road and arrived at what looked like a red barn with a field and a post-and-rail wood fence around the property. A gravel parking lot where people apparently parked however they felt like it was in front. And it smelled . . . amazing.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Only the best barbecue joint in the tri-state area, in my opinion.”
“Wow.” Carl came around and opened the door for her, and she stepped out onto the gravel gingerly. �
�Thanks, Carl.”
She hadn’t been out, really and truly out of the house other than to go to the BDSM club or to run errands for Gregory, in years. It had been of her own choosing, of course. She thought she preferred the safety and security of a small world. But now, maybe, she could expand her horizons a bit.
Inside, the place was bustling. “I’ll warn you now,” Trevor said, “I don’t come here for the service. I come for the food. The waitresses are sweet but once you get your food you pretty much have to just get up and get whatever else you need.”
Elisabeth laughed at the thought of a powerful Dom like Trevor fetching his own soda refill. “Well, now you can relax and enjoy both the food and the service, because I’m here. I’ll get you everything you need.”
Trevor took her hand in his across the table. “If I’d written a script, I couldn’t have thought of a more perfect thing for you to say to me right now. I’m really glad we’re giving this a shot.”
“Me too. I haven’t been out to dinner in a long time.”
Trevor smiled and swatted her hand playfully. “I mean us. Doing the relationship thing backward. Starting with sex, then living together, then dating. It’s a weird way to do things but it didn’t work out so well when I tried it the right way.”
The waitress came over, interrupting the moment. “Hi there! You folks know what you want tonight?”
Trevor ordered without looking at the menu. “Baby-back ribs, the pulled pork, the brisket, coleslaw, some corn on the cob, and corn bread, please.”
“Who’s going to eat all that?” Elisabeth asked, shocked.
“I want you to be able to try a little of everything,” Trevor said, shrugging. “Oh, and two of the beer samplers, please. And send a pulled-pork sandwich and a Coke out to our driver Carl with a bunch of extra napkins, if you could, and add it to my tab.”
“Oh, I remember you now,” the waitress laughed. “Sure thing, honey.”
After she walked away, Elisabeth looked down at her hands on her lap. How could she get Trevor to hold them again?
Enslaved Page 5
