Enraptured (8 page)

Besides, Jessica was a born submissive. She just needed to be trained. The way she innocently discovered her own wet pussy after that spanking, his heart about stopped. She was going to be able to work on that, to draw out more of her own arousal and find out exactly what got her hot.

Roman just wished he could be the one to show her, instead of Lauren.

He looked up at the television, which played an old
I Love Lucy
episode. He liked
I Love Lucy
, specifically the episodes where Ricky spanked her. There were a few, and even more where he threatened it. Too bad for Ricky that Lucy wasn’t more like Jessica, ever eager to please.

Fuck. His cock swelled in his pants. He’d had an erection earlier and never gotten relief, and now that it was back, his balls ached with need.

None of his staff stayed in the evenings after dinner, so he laid his head back on the black leather sofa and turned off the TV with the remote. Sliding his hand to his pants, he quickly unbuttoned them, unzipped the fly and ran his fingers over his length.

He imagined Jessica kneeling before him, her hands tied behind her back. If he had her there, tied like that, he’d hold her coconut-scented blonde hair and ask her to open her mouth. When her pretty pink lips parted, he’d thrust inside her mouth, letting her suck him. If she didn’t take all of him, he’d push forward, holding her head still until she relaxed her throat enough to let him in.

He imagined her gagging, tears coming to her eyes. He imagined pulling out, caressing her cheek, and hearing her say . . .

“More, please, sir, I need more.”

Roman came hard. His breathing slowed after a moment of desperate panting, and he lifted his head, his eyes still closed. In his mind, Jessica was there, smiling at him.

J
essica couldn’t sleep, and she had to be at work in an hour. No, wait. She didn’t. She could start sleeping at night again, like a normal person.

The thought calmed her. She pulled the comforter off of her and raised the futon into a couch again.

She’d better tell the club, though. Even if the owners knew already, her manager needed to hear from her. Pulling out her cell phone, she texted her manager and explained what happened. All of it, including that Roman Chase himself was covering her expenses for the rest of the year so she could train at his house. That was the truth, and the best excuse she could think of for not going to work at a BDSM club.

Still, getting a message back that said, “Of course, don’t worry about it. Have fun and be safe,” surprised her. Not that it should. Who knew that Brooks Wild Chase owned the whole club? Certainly not her. Although it did sort of make sense now, why their booth was always kept empty and waiting for them, even if they didn’t show up for weeks at a time.

Wow.

Still, she was having second thoughts after that talk with Elisabeth. Jessica didn’t like the idea of being indebted to anyone. She’d never be able to pay back the money—the only thing she had to offer him in return for his generosity was herself. It was like Elisabeth had warned her. Whether she liked it or not, if she went through with this then she was effectively selling herself. But like Lauren said, the money wasn’t given as a loan. It was a gift, a tribute.

Right?

But Roman was a little terrifying. Gorgeous, yes. And definitely awesome. She loved how he was so stern to everyone and then seemed to lighten up a bit when he was around her. She made him laugh!

Jessica shook her head, realizing she was smiling like an idiot just thinking about him. But when she’d actually been at his house, and Lauren asked her if Roman should spank her, she’d frozen. But not because she didn’t want to feel Roman’s hands on her. That turned her on, it did. It was worrying about looking stupid in front of him. She was so new to the whole scene, and it was her very first spanking. Maybe after she had some experience under her belt she’d feel more confident submitting to a Master like Roman.

She should have let him spank her. Damn it. She’d missed out on a really great experience out of fear. He would have taken good care of her—she knew because at the club she’d watched him scene with other girls from her perch behind the bar.

She had a clear view of the Saint Andrew’s Cross, and Roman loved to cuff women to it and whip them. They loved it too, they made that abundantly clear. Most of the girls Roman trained ended up with other Doms, though.

Why? How could anyone train with Roman and not want to stay? If she’d been as lucky as Elisabeth, and had both Trevor Brooks and Roman Chase wanting to be her Dom, she’d have gone with Roman in a second.

God, that hair of his! She loved how the long brown locks got into his face. It made him look like a rock star. He was way better than a rock star, though. But probably just as unattainable.

Except . . . she was going to be at his house a lot for the next few months, it seemed. She’d have a chance to get to know him on another level, one that she’d never be able to reach by just drinking lemonade and eating cookies with him over the bar at WhipperSnapper.

Jessica put her futon back down, since she was tired after all. And tomorrow would be a long, intense day if it was anything like she imagined.

But when she imagined being in Roman’s dungeon with Mistress Lauren, she didn’t picture Lauren. No . . . she wanted Roman to train her. To watch her.

That was the goal, then. To get Roman to want to train her. How could she pull that off, though, if she was supposed to be Lauren’s sub to Domme?

I’ll just have to be the best sub I can be, and let Roman see for himself that he wants me.
Unless . . . well, Roman liked to fix things, right? To help train untrainable subs?

Maybe what Jessica should really do was come up with an issue that needed superior training, training that only Master Roman could provide.

She giggled. No need to play games. She was new enough to the whole thing that she’d probably manage to screw it up all on her own, without having to try. It still didn’t make sense. Why her? Why would anyone, much less a man like Roman, want a college-dropout who not only knew next-to-nothing about BDSM, but was also a liar? Yeah. He was right when he’d said she needed to tell her parents she’d left NYU. But her job barely paid her rent—her parents were highly subsidizing her meager lifestyle with checks every month. If they found out she’d left school, she’d be cut off. Have to go home to Denver.

And she really didn’t want to go home, as much as she loved her family. This was the first time in her life that she was on her own, and she wanted to prove to everyone, including herself, that she could do it. Not that she was really making it on her own if she relied on the Bank of Mom and Dad.

This money that Roman had offered her was the way. She looked over at the check sitting on her bookshelf. Waiting to be deposited in her account. Forty grand, holy moly.

She wouldn’t cash it just yet. Not until she wrapped her head around it. But as far as the BAD Boys were concerned, she’d accepted the money already, in return for spending time with them.

It seemed like a strange dream, to be granted access to their glamorous playground. Jessica didn’t belong with them. How long until they figured that out?

How long until Roman figured it out—until he realized that she wasn’t worthy of his time, much less his money?

Her phone rang, the caller ID lighting up.

“Hi Mistress Lauren,” she answered.

“Were you sleeping, hon?” Lauren asked.

“Not yet.”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay with going over to Roman’s tomorrow. Elisabeth called me and said you might have some concerns.”

Jessica’s pulse quickened, and she took a breath to keep her voice steady. “No concerns. I promise.”

T
he next day, Jessica and Lauren went by themselves to Roman’s house. Marc had to work, so it was just the two of them.

And Roman.

Jessica smiled when Roman answered the door. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Jessica,” Roman said. “Good morning, Mistress Lauren. Please, make yourself at home.”

Dark shadows lingered in every corner of the large foyer, and after the bright sun outside she could barely see inside the house. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Why did Roman keep all of his curtains closed on such a beautiful day?

The air-conditioning raised goose bumps along her bare arms. Or maybe that was just her nerves. Despite the friendly chitchat she and Lauren had on the drive up, Jessica still couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d taken on an obligation she wasn’t one hundred percent prepared to meet. Lauren was awesome. But she wanted to be Lauren’s friend, not her submissive.

That wasn’t to say she wasn’t interested in learning more about submission. She was. But her thoughts kept returning to Roman last night as lay on her futon, worrying herself to sleep. Not Lauren.

“Thanks for having us,” Jessica said to Roman, hoping to engage him in more conversation. More conversation to put off the inevitable—her first day of training.

He smiled but didn’t answer, so she took his cue and kept quiet.

Lauren took Jessica’s hand. “Let’s take a tour of the dungeon first, so you can get acclimated.”

“Okay,” Jessica said. “Roman, will you show us?” Oops. Maybe that was too forward. “Or Lauren, I mean. I’m sure you’re busy, sir.”

Roman checked his wristwatch, a smart-looking piece that probably cost more than her parents’ house.

“I’d be happy to give you a tour.” He led them to the back of the mansion, through a corridor as dimly lit as the main hall.

There were lights overhead, but they weren’t on. Roman’s home was as intimidating as he was.

Roman opened a door that seemed to drop off into nothingness, and stepped down. Peering over the edge, Jessica saw a long staircase that descended to the basement.

She kept her eyes on her feet as she went down the narrow stairs. Falling now and breaking her neck was not how she intended to get her first dose of pain from Roman Chase’s infamous dungeon, that was for sure.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jessica looked around her, marveling at the cavernous room.

“The walls are real stone, imported from Spain,” Roman said.

“This is your basement?” she gasped. “It’s huge.”

“Well, yes,” he agreed. “We have more space out here in the country, don’t you think, Mistress Lauren?”

“Oh stop it,” Lauren groaned. “There is no way in hell you are going to convince me and Marc to move out of Manhattan and you know it.”

Roman smirked and walked over to the centerpiece of the room. “My own Saint Andrew’s Cross,” he said. “The one at the club is a replica created by the same designer who did this one.”

Jessica nodded, noticing the thick leather cuffs on the cross. What would it be like to be on that thing?

“What’s that for?” she asked, pointing to a flat table with various restraints. “It looks like it belongs in a gynecologist’s office, with those leg things.”

“Yes,” Roman said. “In stirrups, a woman can be bound with her legs quite far apart.”

“What do you do to someone, like that?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“I think you should be more concerned with what
Mistress Lauren
might do to you on that table.” He winked at Lauren, who laughed.

“Don’t worry, no Pap smears from me. Just some good ol’- fashioned forced orgasms, most likely.”

Forced orgasms? Kissing a girl was one thing, but that sounded so . . . sexual. Jessica blushed and looked away from the table, her eyes resting on a spanking bench. At least she knew what that was, because they had one at the club.

Roman brought his hand down on the black leather of the material when he saw her looking at it. It sounded sharp—the acoustics were good in the room.

“Loud,” Jessica murmured.

“You should hear the sound of a whip crack in this dungeon,” Lauren said dreamily. “Perfection.”

There were whips hung along the wall on a rack, along with various other implements. Jessica had seen many of them in use before, at the club. A flogger. A riding crop. A cane.

“You’ve found my prized possession,” Roman said, and lifted the cane off the wall. “I’ll assume you’ve never been caned before.”