Enraptured (17 page)

“Why not?” he replied, even though she hadn’t spoken aloud. “It brings in enough profit every month to more than cover your tuition. I don’t just spend money.”

Jessica was smart enough to understand the math, and he wanted her to know the details of his financials.

“Instead of spending forty-five grand a year on your tuition and losing that money,” Roman explained, “I bought the building, which has twenty units, each bringing in around eighteen hundred a month. So that’s thirty-six grand a month, minus the debt service and maintenance, minus ten percent for the management company—”

“Which he owns,” Marc interrupted.

“Of course. Anyway, I net about twenty grand a month on the property, which is two hundred and forty grand a year. More than enough to pay for anything you might need, including a master’s degree, if you’re so inclined.” Roman smiled at her, loving how she looked at him with such rapt attention, as if she were in class and taking notes.

Love. There was that word again, flitting through his mind with such ease. As if he hadn’t just gotten over Elisabeth. As if he wasn’t finally feeling whole again.

But it was all because of Jessica. Sweet, beautiful Jessica. Still, he didn’t know for sure that she would be able to satisfy some of his more sadistic leanings.

Tonight, they’d find out.

“You’re very generous, sir,” Jessica whispered.

“Speaking of, didn’t I buy you some sexy club-wear?” he asked, brushing a misbehaving lock of hair out of his eyes. “Wear the miniskirt, if you brought it.”

Jessica jumped up. “Sure did, sir. I’ll go get changed. Lauren, where should I go?”

Lauren stood from the couch. “I guess I’ll get changed too. You can use the guest room down there, if you’d like,” she said, pointing the way.

Jessica grabbed her bag and practically skipped along the corridor, her high heels making light clicking noises across the wood floor.

“She’s adorable,” Marc commented as the two men watched her go.

“She is that.”

“Is she as into you as you are into her?” he asked.

“It’s a good question. Her parents are visiting in a few days, and I’m wondering what she’ll do when they ask her to move back home.”

“Why would she give up living in your mansion and getting a free ride to college, just to go home?” Marc asked quietly.

“I need to make it slightly less pleasant for her, I think,” Roman said. “To prove to me that she absolutely wants to be with me, and not just my money.”

Marc leaned forward. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take her away until her parents come. Go camping, remove all the luxury, for starters,” Roman said.

He laughed. “Do you even like camping?”

“Not particularly, no. But I like Jessica, and this needs to be part of her training.”

“Is that it?”

Roman looked up as Mistress Lauren came back into the living room, dressed up in her Domme-wear, with thigh-high stiletto boots. “Hot,” he said, nodding appreciatively.

“Mine,” Marc laughed, pulling her back down to the couch next to him. “Roman’s filling me in on his latest sub.”

“Not my latest,” Roman said harshly. “She’s not just a notch on the bedpost or one in a long line of future subs. She wears my collar. I plan to keep her . . . indefinitely.”

Lauren raised her eyebrows. “And she has the same plans?”

“She seems to now, at least. But after the next few days, she may change her mind. We’ve been working together to give her a sexual response to pain. Orgasms during painful stimuli, that sort of thing. It’s working well. She practically comes when she sees the flogger now.”

Lauren grinned.

“But,” Roman said, “I need to see if she’ll submit to pure pain, without pleasure. This weekend I’ll be administering punishments without reward, and without any of the accoutrements of my wealth around us.”

“So you are worried about your money,” Marc said.

“Actually, she seems to be more concerned about it than I am. She’s constantly telling me I don’t have to buy her things, as if to convince herself more than me. I’m going to take her up on that. If she still wants to be with me after this, I’ll know I have a keeper. And then she’ll know too, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“Why not ease her into it more, if you really don’t want to lose her?” Lauren asked.

“Her parents are coming to visit in two days,” Marc said, filling her in on what she’d missed.

They quieted when they heard the guest room door open and Jessica’s footsteps coming up the hall.

“I’m ready, sir,” Jessica said, turning slowly to show off the outfit.

She wore a black leather miniskirt with fishnet stockings held up by a garter belt and a pink halter top with an open back, perfect for marking her without needing to remove her clothing. The diamond earrings Roman bought her shimmered in her earlobes. And the look all came together with his thick collar around her neck.

“Breathtaking,” Roman murmured.

He took her hand and stood next to her, her tiny frame seeming even more petite when she pressed her body next to his. Yes, he could get used to this—to her.

But would Jessica still want him when he stripped her of everything?

J
essica sat in the BAD Boys’ booth at WhipperSnapper with the whole crew. Elisabeth and Trevor, Lauren and Marc, and of course Roman. He was being super-sweet, putting his arm around her protectively and smiling nonstop.

“I don’t know where Roman Chase went,” Trevor joked, “or who this grinning imposter is, but I like him.”

“Fuck you, man,” Roman said, but he laughed.

Trevor winked at Jessica, and she felt warm inside, as if Trevor was complimenting her. Gone was the surly Roman she’d first seen prowling the club. Around her, he was happy, and kind.

She never, ever, ever wanted it to end.

“Come on, Jessica,” Roman said, pulling her out of the booth. “It’s our turn on the Saint Andrew’s Cross.”

The huge X-shaped cross was the main entertainment in the booth and bar area of the club, and patrons had been taking turns on it all evening.

“We’re going to show everyone how well you can take a caning for me, okay?” he asked.

The cane. He’d only given her a small taste of it, once, in his dungeon. It had hurt so badly she’d screamed, but he’d mitigated the suffering with an immediate orgasm, flooding her body with pleasure to drown out the pain. Here, he probably wouldn’t do that.

“Yes, sir.” She followed him onto the platform and waited for his orders.

“Take off your skirt, please,” he said.

She obeyed, grateful she wore a simple black thong underneath. The crowd applauded when her skirt hit the floor and she carefully stepped out of it. In her heels, fishnet stockings and garter belt, she felt extra-sexy, like all the men were watching her.

Roman came up to her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Where are we?”

“Green, sir.”

“Good girl. Now face the cross and put your arms up.”

As he cuffed her wrists to the wood, and then her ankles, she focused on breathing, and on making him proud.

She couldn’t see it, but she could hear from the sounds of the people watching that Roman had the cane in his hands now. Her pussy dampened with excitement, even though she was scared. Of what, though? The pain? Or of making a fool of herself, and by extension, Roman?

Both.

A whimper escaped her throat, and Roman laughed. “I haven’t touched you yet, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“I’m going to cane your pretty little ass in front of all of these people, and I don’t want you to make a sound. Any sound you make will add an extra strike, do you understand?”

Oh my God.
She wasn’t allowed to make noise? The last time he caned her she’d screamed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do I have your consent?”

“Of course, sir.” She smiled at that. She’d consent to anything, for him. Surely he knew that by now.

The sound of the cane slicing through the air sent a shiver of panic through her body, and she flinched before the cane even touched her. She couldn’t help but let out a high-pitched squeal behind clamped jaws.

“Adding another strike,” he said, and quickly hit her thighs, hard.

This time she remained silent, even though her thighs burned across that line as if he’d lit a match across her skin.

He reached his arm back, far, and she shut her eyes, focusing on not making any noise. The cane struck her across the ass again and she pressed her cheek against the wood, wishing she could bite into it.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and lit up her ass again, marking her right below the previous lick.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she held on to her cry. Again, and again he caned her, until she was sobbing profusely—but silently.

And suddenly, he stopped. He freed her ankle restraints first, and then her wrists. In front of everyone, he checked the skin on her ass, rubbing it with his large hands to soothe the pain.

“It’s okay, you can cry now,” he said, and pulled her into his arms as she finally let go and wept. “You did beautifully. You were incredible, submitting to me like that.”

Roman carried her off the platform, grabbing her leather skirt on the way to a quiet corner of the club. She didn’t know how long she sat on his lap, wrapped in his arms, letting him comfort her. Time had no meaning when they were together. It seemed to speed up or slow down depending on his will.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, when her tears had dried.

“I have a question for you,” he said. “Do you like camping?”

What?
“Um . . . I haven’t gone camping since I was a child.”

“Let’s go camping together. Just the two of us, alone in the woods. What do you think?”

Jessica smiled. “I’ll have you all to myself? No work interfering?”

“Yup. It’s warm out, we can sleep under the stars.”

“Sounds great, sir. It’ll be our last chance to be completely alone together before my parents come out to visit.”

“Exactly . . .” he said mysteriously. “How do you feel, now, Jessica? Are you ready to join the others at the booth? May I buy you a lemonade, or a cookie? Both?”

Jessica hugged him. “Yes and yes,” she laughed.

He helped her put her miniskirt back on, and she gasped as the tight leather caressed her freshly-caned flesh.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he groaned, putting her hand to his groin so she could feel his hardness.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to apologize for that. Instead, she winked, and walked with him back to his—their—booth. Somehow, after their scene on the cross together, she felt a warm wash of approval coming from everyone, as if she’d shown them all that yes, she deserved to wear Roman Chase’s collar.

She deserved to be here, at the BAD Boys’ booth. Living their lifestyle, doing what they did.

And damn, that cookie tasted good.

“I
thought we were going to stay in Manhattan tonight, sir?” Jessica asked when they left the club, and Roman led her to a beat-up old Jeep out in the back parking lot.

“We are, but we’re leaving early to go camping upstate,” he said, opening the passenger door and giving her a boost up inside.

“I didn’t know you had a Jeep.”

“One of my landscapers, Emilio, is lending it to us,” Roman said. “He stocked it with firewood, sleeping bags, and his fishing gear for us.”

“You fish, sir?” Somehow she couldn’t picture Roman even getting dirty, much less gutting a smelly fish.

“Occasionally. About as often as I camp.” He grinned at her, pulling his hair out of the low ponytail he’d kept it in at the club. “Not often enough.”

“I’m . . . not really dressed to go camping, sir,” Jessica said, looking down at her heels and fishnet stockings. “I didn’t pack my overnight bag appropriately.”

“Not a problem. The Target in Harlem opens at eight.”

Target? Harlem? What happened to the man who only slept on one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets?

“That was very nice of Emilio to lend us his stuff,” Jessica murmured.

“I think I paid off the Jeep for him, actually,” Roman said with a grin. “So he was happy to help. That, and I told him to feel free to borrow the town car.”