Exposed to You (Overexposed)

by Andra Lake

  My hand tightened on the oh-shit handle. “And you want me to agree to that?”

  “You need to know what you’re getting yourself into. We need to draw the line between our sessions and reality because I’m losing it with you.”

  I looked out the window, and he reached out and took my hand, bringing it to his lips. The gesture was so chivalrous and in contrast with what he was saying.

  “I promise I won’t do it if you’re good.”

  “I don’t know how to be good,” I whispered.

  He laughed. We passed under a streetlight, and I saw the smile still on his lips. “Either way I’ll be a happy man. I just want you to give it a chance.”

  “How did you learn all this?” I asked after a while. We’d discussed his need for control, but I realized we hadn’t gotten to the crux of it.

  His jaw tightened, and I shrugged. “The other day you didn’t really answer how you got into this lifestyle, and here I am learning about it from you.”

  It took him a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was wary. “I met a woman a few years back. I wouldn’t call it a relationship, but we went out a few times. She was into it and I tried a few things.”

  I was surprised at the surge of jealousy I felt. “But it didn’t continue?”

  “No, Amy, it did not.”

  I knew I was being nosy, but I didn’t care. “Why not?”

  He shifted. “Because at the time, I thought it was wrong. I felt guilty.”

  “But now you don’t.”

  “I was in my late-twenties then. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

  I hadn’t. I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling very petulant. I kicked off my sandals and stretched my bare legs up onto the dashboard, letting my dress fall to my waist. Dallon inhaled through his teeth but I pretended not to notice.

  “So she asked you to spank her and tie her up and stuff?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I opened my legs wider, pressing the sole of my foot against the cool surface of the windshield. “And then after that, you started tying up random chicks.”

  It took him a moment to respond. “Yes.”

  “But if I give you what you want, for some reason you’ll stick with me.” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm.

  Suddenly, Dallon veered off the road, pulling onto the shoulder. I quickly removed my legs from the dashboard. I’d gone too far.

  He slammed the car into park, swiveled to face me. “You’re trying my patience, Amy.”

  I didn’t say I was sorry. I couldn’t speak; my heart was beating in my ears.

  He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a black, silk tie. “Give me your wrists.”

  “What?”

  “Now, Amy. We’re solving your dilemma.”

  With a click, the interior light turned on, and I could see Dallon clearly. He was pissed. And he was waiting, tie in hand.

  I put out my arms, and he moved quickly, roughly, and bound them tightly. It hurt a little but I didn’t even wince.

  Out of nowhere, there was a flash. Dallon held his phone up—in front of me was a picture of a wide-eyed girl with bound arms, not unlike some of the photos I’d found in his studio.

  Then he yanked my seatbelt tight, pulling me back against the seat.

  ***

  Dallon parked in his stall and cut the engine. Without a word, he climbed out of the car, slinging his jacket over his shoulder.

  Was he serious? Using my bound hands, I struggled to undo my seat belt and pushed open the door, clambering after him. He was waiting for me, one hand holding his jacket over his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket.

  “You look good, Miss Clair.”

  “Are you going to leave me like this?”

  He smirked. “I’m tempted to leave you that way forever.”

  I glanced around the empty parking lot. “What if someone sees me?”

  “I’m counting on it. That will teach you a lesson, won’t it?” He began walking away, pausing briefly to look over his shoulder. “Are you coming or staying in here tonight?”

  I quickly rushed after him, panic rising. “Please, Dallon. Undo me. I’m… embarrassed.”

  “First of all, you aren’t addressing me in a very respectful manner. Second of all, after the way you behaved earlier, you should be embarrassed.”

  He pressed the button for the elevator and then pulled out his phone to check something. Beside him, I was still glancing around anxiously, while simultaneously using my hair as a curtain to hide my face from the security cameras.

  The elevator pinged and a young couple stepped out, laughing and talking rapidly. Both of them were blonde, the woman wearing large hoop earrings and stiletto heeled boots.

  I halted mid-step, my eyes wide, but they continued right past us, completely unaware.

  Dallon chuckled as I rushed into the elevator and scooted halfway behind him, trying to hide my wrists. “Looks like you’re safe, doesn’t it?”

  I didn’t respond. The elevator doors closed but it didn’t move.

  “Push the button, Amy.”

  His tone was cold, clipped. I was in too much of a rush to argue; I darted forward to push the number for Dallon’s floor, rushed back to my position.

  The elevator began its smooth climb and stopped at the next floor, the parking level about Dallon’s. The door opened and an elderly couple stepped on.

  I tensed, grasping the waistband at the back of his pants desperately.

  “Good evening,” Dallon greeted them warmly.

  “Good evening,” they replied.

  The woman looked at me curiously and Dallon put his arm around my shoulder, at the same time draping his coat over me like one would a cold girlfriend. She gave him a smile as if to say you’re so sweet.

  When they got off on their floor and we were alone again, I leaned into him, pressing my head against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Dallon gave me a reassuring squeeze as the doors opened. Together, we walked to his door and into the apartment. He stormed straight to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine, gulped it down.

  I kicked off my sandals and joined him, carefully climbing onto the breakfast bar.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” His eyes were downcast as he refilled his own.

  “Yes, please. Sir.”

  He poured a second glass and passed it to me. I took a shaky sip with both hands.

  “You infuriate me, Amy,” he said softly.

  “I’m sorry I made you angry.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I should punish you now. But I won’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there is something more important to deal with—that you still think I will tire of you.”

  Yes, that old thing. I looked away into the dining room, knowing that I should tell him I no longer thought that, even if I did. But nothing came out.

  Dallon drained the rest of his wine and put his glass down with authority. Then he strode past the bar, hoisted me off my seat and over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I cried out.

  In response, he merely spanked me and kept walking to his bedroom. There, he deposited me in front of his bed.

  “Turn around.”

  I turned to face the bed, and he unzipped my dress, pulled it over my shoulders. The straps couldn’t pass my bound wrists, so he left my dress hanging in front of me and moved to my bra, undoing it and leaving it hanging in front of me also.

  “Climb up onto the bed. I’m going to take you from behind.”

  I picked up my dress and bra and got onto the bed, dropping them in front of me. I felt like burying my face into them and hiding. Dallon climbed up behind me, caressing my back softly.

  “Now, Amy, I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Afterward we’ll see if I’m still interested.”

  I felt him at the opening to my sex and then he shoved inside me.
Grasping my hips tightly, he began pounding into me relentlessly so that I was forced to lean further forward onto my elbows to support myself, my face hidden in my dress after all. He was so deep, his balls hitting my clit with every thrust.

  I’d never had sex that way before, and I was surprised by how much I liked it, by how aroused I was by Dallon’s anger.

  “You’re not allowed to come. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Suddenly, he grabbed a fist of my hair and pulled taut, holding me in place.

  “Fuck, Amy,” he groaned and came apart, leaning forward to bite me gently on the shoulder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  ***

  Dallon unfastened his tie from my wrists, pulled a fresh shirt out of his drawer and tossed it to me. “Put this on.”

  Even after sleeping with me he was still pissy. I pulled the shirt over my head and when I was momentarily blind, he grabbed my wrists, wrapping the tie around them again. “You’re sleeping here tonight.”

  “Like this?” My voice was tiny.

  “It will be a good reminder.”

  Placing a hand on the small of my back, he guided me into the bathroom. I stood uncertainly on the heated tiles as he picked up my toothbrush, ran it under the tap and loaded it with toothpaste before handing it to me. We stood side by side, brushing our teeth and looking at each other in the mirror.

  “I got your message,” I said eventually.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what was it?”

  “That you aren’t going to tire of me after one night.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That was only part of the message, but I’ll accept it for now.”

  That night I slept on my side, my arms tucked into my chest, and Dallon slept behind me, his arm around my waist.

  It was one of the best sleeps I’d ever had.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dallon awoke me the next morning with breakfast in bed. With deft fingers, he undid the ties from my wrists, his eyes burning into mine. Then he sprawled across the bed lazily, propping himself up on an elbow as he popped a strawberry into his mouth.

  “If it were up to me, I’d keep you in my bed all day, but I figure you have something on the agenda.” His fingers gently massaged my wrists.

  I smiled sweetly as he let go of my wrists, feeling strangely bereft without the ties or his hands. “I’m going to accept the job offer, then read for a bit, and then go to my 4 p.m. appointment at the gym.”

  Dallon’s face was impassive, but his cheek twitched. “The training session with the meathead surfer.”

  “You don’t know he’s stupid,” I said, picking up a strawberry, tilting my head back, and slowly pulling the end out through my lips. The slight widening of his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

  “I’ve heard somewhere that most are. Something about getting hit in the head too often with a surfboard.”

  “You’d never try surfing?”

  “I have, and I’m pretty good at it. That’s not the point. I can train you.”

  I rolled my eyes, laughing at the same time. “I told you that it doesn’t mean anything. Besides, you have to work.”

  “I told you I don’t like to share. I can be very possessive of what’s mine.”

  “You’re possessive before it’s yours too,” I muttered under my breath.

  Dallon’s eyes narrowed as he pushed himself into a standing position. “Saturday won’t come soon enough.”

  I tried not to look nervous as I picked up another strawberry. What had I agreed to? And why had I agreed to it?

  “And just so we’re clear, Saturday starts at midnight, so if you don’t want your friends to witness anything they shouldn’t, I’d make it an early night.”

  I stabbed at my eggs as he sauntered out of the room.

  ***

  It was well past 6 p.m. by the time I got showered and rode the subway home from the gym. Following my session, Todd had recommended me for a complimentary massage, calling me a trooper. It was definitely needed, as I was aching all over. I’d warned him that I’d never lifted weights and I hadn’t been lying. Even lifting my arm to push the elevator button for Dallon’s floor hurt like hell.

  “What took you so long?” he asked as I entered the penthouse.

  “Sorry, they gave me a complimentary massage and I showered and stuff.”

  “What happened to your phone?”

  I pulled my uncharged iPhone from my purse and made an apologetic face. “It died.”

  Dallon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was sitting at the breakfast bar, fingering a glass of wine. He looked gorgeous in his V-neck black T-shirt that matched his hair and dark eyebrows and the jeans he’d worn in the studio the first night we met. On the bar in front of him sat some food items on a platter, a few unopened bottles of wine, and four wine glasses. He’d started setting up for an evening with my friends, I realized, and hung up my jacket before making my way over and wrapping my arms around him.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest.

  His posture softened a little. “For what?”

  “For not responding to your messages. I know you worry.”

  He sighed.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Not anymore. I’m glad you’re home.” He pulled back and took my face in his hands, pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “But please answer my messages from now on. It doesn’t suffice to say I worry. For many reasons.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes, breathing in his scent before releasing him.

  “How was the gym?”

  “Well I won’t be signing up for another session with Todd, you’ll be glad to know.” I walked into the kitchen, put my phone in the charger on the counter. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this sore.”

  The corner of Dallon’s mouth turned up. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and opened the fridge, pulled out the ground beef I’d moved out of the freezer the night before.

  Dallon grinned. “What are you making us?”

  “Spaghetti. Seeing as I survive on salads and whatever is lying around, I’m not much of a cook.”

  “I like spaghetti. I saw you stocked my fridge today.”

  “I wanted to make you something for once.” My tone was a little cooler after he’d called it his fridge.

  “I appreciate it. Thank you.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And I meant our fridge—I apologize.”

  I smiled in thank you and went about preparing the meal, aware of Dallon’s eyes on me.

  “You look good in our kitchen.”

  I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Are you buttering me up so I cook more for you?”

  “Maybe.” His grin was infectious.

  “I’ve always thought it would be fun to take a cooking class,” I said as I emptied the beef into the frying pan. “Or forcing myself learn a new meal every week.”

  I didn’t need to mention that it had been impossible at my old place. The thought reminded me that sooner than later I was going to have to have the conversation with Dallon about rent. I had a feeling that he was still going to be difficult about me paying rent, job or not. I hadn’t yet decided if his need to pay for everything was due to his need to feel in control or to show that he cared about me.

  We ate my spaghetti at the breakfast bar, my legs in Dallon’s lap, his hand absently rubbing my bare legs up and down.

  “We should have had them over for dinner,” he said before taking a sip of his wine.

  “I didn’t know how late you would have to work.” I was secretly pleased that he was interested in meeting my friends. He seemed like such an island sometimes.

  At nine o-clock sharp, Sam and Luke buzzed and Dallon granted them access to the top floor of the building.

  Luke was the first to enter, pulling me into his usual bear hug. “Thanks for having us over.”

  Dallon put out his hand, frowning. “Dallon King.”

  Luke shoo
k it, smiling warmly. “Hey, I’m Luke. Amy’s told us a lot about you.”

  Dallon’s lip twitched as he asked, “Are you a lawyer by any chance?” He looked past Luke at me, and I knew he was remembering my threat to get my lawyer friend Luke on him. I glanced down, embarrassed.

  “We both are,” Sam said, her hand snaking into the back pocket of Luke’s jeans, pulling him closer to her. She held her other hand out to Dallon. “Sam.”

  “Would anyone like a glass of wine?” I asked, hurrying to the kitchen to open the bottles.

  In a second, Dallon was beside me, taking the bottle of red wine from me chivalrously and whispering, “You seem nervous.”

  “I am nervous.”

  He smiled and turned back to our guests. “Would you prefer red or white?”

  “Red is perfect, thank you,” Luke said.

  Sam didn’t miss a beat. When we all had a glass of wine in our hands, she glanced around briefly before saying, “This place is amazing. Can you give us the tour?”

  “Certainly.”

  Dallon led the way upstairs. The first room was mine, and there was no hiding that fact: there were signs of me everywhere.

  “This is Amy’s room,” he said curtly before moving down the hall toward the studio.

  “Just a sec.” Sam reached out and grabbed my arm, pulled me into my room. “What the hell, you have your own room? Does he not let you sleep with him?”

  “No, it was my decision. He offered me a room of my own and I took him up on his offer.”

  She looked at me like I had two heads. “Why?”

  “Because sometimes I just need my own space.” I sighed. “Everything else is his, and I don’t entirely feel comfortable with that yet. Besides, I end up sleeping in his room anyway.”

  Now Sam sighed. “As long as he isn’t making you sleep here…”

  I shook my head and smiled reassuringly before taking her hand and leading her into the hallway again, whispering, “I’m going to suggest paying him rent, but I don’t think it will go well.”

  Dallon and Luke were waiting at the end of the hall. Dallon stood with hands shoved into his pockets and a frown on lips, his eyes on me as we approached. Luke stopped talking as we neared, but I could tell he’d only been doing it to fill the awkward silence.