The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel

by M. F. Sinclair

  ****

  Two weeks later, recovered from my emotional wounds, I was back in the streets of Northampton, my brand spanking new Burberry leather tote bag slung over my arm as I sprinted out of the hairdressers’ and made my way to Starbucks. The handbag was a gift from Dana, who sent it from London about a week ago. Her note said that she knew I liked designer bags and had wanted me to sport the hottest item in London right now. She also wrote that she was delighted with the news that Seton and I were happy together. I sent her a heartfelt but brief thank-you e-mail, omitting the fact that Seton and I were no longer involved. I was certain that he had broken the news to her by now anyway.

  The trip to the hairdresser had been fun. I’d gotten up extra early to get a haircut, and now my hair swished bouncily on my bare neck. A new look, a new beginning. Perhaps later I would go shopping for some new clothes—designer duds to go with my kickass purse. Yup, I thought, strolling over to the coffee shop, I will make a fresh start. Out with the old, in with the new. I felt better already.

  Starbucks was full, as usual. I cast a quick glance at the tables out back and caught a glimpse of Mac Guy typing away at his laptop. I smiled to myself. Good ol’ Mac Guy. Good ol’ Northampton. It was nice to be out in the real world after two weeks of misery and isolation. I paid for my frozen coffee and headed back out, wanting to enjoy the scenery and weather before I had to lope off to work.

  I was back from a two-week sabbatical that Alfred had been more than happy to give me. I had a feeling he and the others knew, or at least suspected, that there was something going on between Seton and me. Everyone was very accommodating. It was strange. Strange, but nice. My time away from the office hadn’t been a vacation though. I still had authors and their manuscripts to deal with, so Alfred had let me work from home.

  “Sure, kid!” he’d said cheerfully over the phone. “Take all the time you need! And don’t worry about your work. We have phones. We have e-mail. Summer’s here, so we’re not in the office all that much anyway. Just be sure to carry your BlackBerry at all times.”

  A small smile crept over my face. Alfred was awesome, he really was. And as long as Jeremy’s motor mouth had nothing to do with my boss’s sympathy, I would adore the old guy for all eternity.

  I walked happily to work, sipping on my iced coffee and breathing in the crisp morning air. As usual, Northampton was crowded with early-morning travelers, making it difficult to cross the rather busy streets. There was a sense of expectancy in the air, as fresh as the green grass growing tall in the park near the Academy of Music, as sweet as a flower coming into bloom. It was a time of renewal and rebirth, a time for a clean slate. This feeling was all in my head, I was certain of it, for most of everything around me was as it always had been, but it felt wonderfully new to me, like springtime instead of midsummer.

  But as I neared the steps that led up to the historical brownstone where Bookends AtoZ was situated, the sharp scent of cologne, aftershave and man teased my nostrils. My skin prickled with awareness, and I knew that I was no longer alone. There were footsteps behind me.

  “Marjorie.” The voice was warm and familiar, and the rich, sexy English lilt caressed my skin as smoothly as a touch.

  Holding back a breath, I stopped walking and spun around. Seton and Jeremy were there, both wearing black suits. Seton’s suit was tailored and elegant while Jeremy’s looked generic and sloppy. Seton looked finger-licking gorgeous, his short hair tousled from the wind, a large coffee in his hand and a newspaper tucked underneath his arm. Remnants of a bruise were scattered about his right eye—the last traces of his fistfight with Jeremy, I assumed. Jeremy’s bruises had vanished. It appeared that Seton had gotten the worst of it during that fight. My heart did a little flip-flop at the sight of him, and it was all I could do to stop myself from sweeping my arms around him.

  “We were just on our way to the office,” Jeremy explained. “David has some more paper work to fill out.”

  I frowned. What paper work?

  Seton said nothing, just stared at me with unreadable eyes. Jeremy fidgeted awkwardly with his foot, turning to Seton. “Hey, man,” he said, tapping his newspaper across Seton’s arm, “we’ll do it later, okay? I’ll let you guys talk.”

  He strolled to the entrance, but not before mouthing, “I want details” to Seton. Jeremy saw me looking at him and blushed. Embarrassed, he rushed off and disappeared inside the building. I turned back to Seton when I heard him chuckle. He was shaking his head, amused by his friend’s meddling.

  “He will never change,” Seton observed.

  “I think you’re right about that.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Seton broke it when his emerald gaze slid up to my hair. “You’ve cut it.”

  I nodded, surprised that he’d noticed such a thing. “It’s midsummer, and neck-length hair is easier to manage.”

  “You look great.”

  I smiled a thank you and looked away for a few heartbeats, avoiding his smoldering gaze. But even though I wasn’t looking at him, I was acutely aware of his overwhelming presence. Of the tightness of the black jacket against his broad shoulders. The way his pants defined his hips and brought out his long legs to perfection. I stared out into the distance, hoping like hell that this encounter wouldn’t ruin my day.

  “How’ve you been?” His voice was casual, conversational.

  I sipped absently on my frozen drink and turned wary eyes to Seton. “Fine, thank you.”

  A small smile touched his lips. “I’m glad.”

  Silence. We did nothing, just stood awkwardly in front of the building, staring at each other. I clutched my handbag and took another sip of my coffee, wishing I could move away, but my feet felt like concrete. An early-morning breeze stirred around us, and the murmurs from numerous passersby poured into my ears. A guitar-playing bohemian was singing a soulful rendition of “Breakeven” by The Script in the far corner of the street.

  Gaining my composure, I took a step closer to the door and said, “Well, it was nice running into you, Seton, but I’ve got to get—”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  My heart just about rose to my throat at the sound of his confession. I closed my eyes and rubbed a hand across them. They stung, as if filled with unshed tears. I felt Seton reach out and gently cup my elbow, pulling me slightly toward him. The warmth of his touch sent frissons of delight seeping through my skin. He still had the same effect on me. Nothing had changed in that regard—though given it had only been two weeks since I last saw him, that was hardly surprising.

  “I’ve booked a table for tonight at Voila!, if you wish to join me,” he said, his voice carefully flat. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “There is and you bloody well know it,” he said, voice turning a little snappish. “We have loads of things to talk about.”

  I raised my eyebrows at the sudden edge in his voice. “Oh, yeah, like what? Like how you used me?”

  It was an extremely spiteful comment, and I shouldn’t have snapped at him like that. I had made a vow to myself that I would never again be bitchy and petty, but old habits die hard. Perhaps I, like Jeremy, would never change.

  Seton’s nostrils flared as he studied me for a moment, then looked away. His face had no expression, but his eyes sparkled with irritation. “There’s nothing stopping us from resuming where we left off.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “No, there isn’t.” He grimaced. “The book is just an excuse, just like everything else has been an excuse. You’re pulling away because you’re afraid, and your fear is the only thing stopping us from being together.”

  Yeah, and it was one of the problems I had to sort out on my own. I took a deep breath and gave him a weary look. “I can’t do this, Seton,” I said sincerely. “It’s… too soon for me.”

  He let out a sigh, then his fingers curled tighter around my elbow, and the small yet tangible contact sent warm shivers down
my spine. “I want us to start fresh, Marjorie. Let’s get to know each other again. Let’s have dinner and see where it goes from there. No pressure.”

  “Get to know each other again? We don’t even know each other beyond the realms of sex.”

  “That’s not true.” Frustration passed over his face. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “Yeah, thanks to Jeremy and Mitch you do! But what do I know about you?”

  “I’ll tell you everything that you wish to know.”

  “Too late.” Besides, thanks to Jeremy, I already knew the essentials about him, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “I’ll earn your trust again.”

  “You never had it.”

  A hurt expression flickered in his eyes. “Then I’ll earn your trust full stop, but you have to meet me halfway. We have to communicate, Marjorie, otherwise our relationship won’t work.”

  “It’s not that simple, Seton. We started on the wrong foot. We should’ve just… you know”—I gesticulated wildly with one hand—“gone out on a stupid date or something.”

  “You wouldn’t have wanted it that way.”

  “You’re right,” I conceded, my voice morose, “I wouldn’t have. This relationship was doomed from the start.” I laughed a sad sort of laugh. “We’re totally screwed up, you know that?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, sighing. “If only life worked out the way it does on paper.”

  “How’s that?”

  The soft smile he gave me just about undid me. “Delete and start over.”

  A sharp pain lanced through my heart. I didn’t want to hear this, not from him. I ripped my elbow from him and squared my shoulders, tension knotting every muscle in my body. “Seton, I’m not up to dealing with this right now. I’m not ready to see or talk to you. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “Well, you’ll have to deal with it soon because we’ll be seeing each other quite regularly,” he said sternly. “I signed a two-book deal with Bookends AtoZ last week.”

  I was about to excuse myself again, but the words froze in my mouth as his words hit me. “You… you’ve signed with Bookends?”

  He nodded. “No one except Alfred, Karen, Jeremy and now you know. Alfred will make the announcement during the opening of my gallery this Saturday. The party will be held at the gallery. You’re invited, of course.”

  My mind whirled with confusion. “But what about Leather Binding Press?”

  “I told them I wouldn’t be selling my book to them after all. Karen objected, but she had no choice but to accept my decision. I’m part of the Bookends family now.”

  “I see,” I said, glad my voice was even. I couldn’t believe it. Seton turned down a multi-million dollar deal with Leather Binding Press and signed with Bookends AtoZ—a small publishing house that offered nothing, not even a generous advance or a decent PR campaign? But why? And then something occurred to me. Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes at Seton. “Jeremy told you that Bookends was in trouble, didn’t he?”

  He hesitated, a faint glint of amusement touching his eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”

  I glanced past him, suspicion turning into pain. He was being playful, his usual self. I didn’t want him to be playful and adorable, didn’t want to see that part of his multi-layered personality. Not now.

  His amused expression fled. “Marjorie, I told Alfred that I wouldn’t sign unless you edited my book. So now you’ll have to do it.”

  I blinked and suddenly his words registered in my scrambled brain. “Me?” I bellowed. “Why me?”

  “It’s important,” he said matter-of-factly. “You have to read the revised version and understand its meaning. You need to understand everything that passed over between us during the months we were together. I haven’t finished rewriting it, but I shall be done in about three months. I knew you wouldn’t want to read my book, so I demanded your editing services, and now you’ll have to read it.”

  “Is the book still called Madeleine?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is the plot essentially the same?”

  A brief pause. Then, “Yes.”

  “So the book is still about me?”

  “It’s about us,” he shot back, “and what we mean to one another. And you’re going to read it whether you want to or not.”

  Anger boiled through me and I briefly contemplated the joy of yelling at him, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I had decided to change, to turn in a new leaf, and in order to do that, a decision had to be made. Here. Now. Because if I didn’t make that decision, I would be threading back to old habits again, and that I would not do.

  I stepped out of his reach, not wanting to feel the heat of him near me. “Seton, I won’t be editing your book, nor will I go out on a date with you. My decision is final.”

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  I hesitated, watching his face as he hardened his features into stone, as if bracing himself for something very unpleasant.

  My voice was flat, calm, totally belying the naked sorrow that pierced within me as I spoke the words that needed to be spoken. “It’s over, Seton. It’s been over. Please accept it.”

  Seton didn’t react, just looked away for a few moments, his mind seeming to be elsewhere. He was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was controlled, almost emotionless. Yet his green eyes blazed with uncontainable emotion when his gaze met mine.

  “Then I guess it’s over. I am willing to meet you halfway, Marjorie, but only if you want to.” He smiled a tight little smile as he raised a hand, brushing my cheeks with his fingers. Longing burned within me, and my determination wavered for a few seconds. “You’re the one with all the power now. No—actually, that’s not true. You’ve always had it. You know where to find me in case you change your mind.”

  I took two backward steps toward the door and raised an eyebrow. “I always had the power? Even when you went to me and punished me whenever I tried to leave you?”

  “Yes,” he said, eyes boring intensely into mine. “Especially during those times.”

  I frowned and opened my mouth to ask what he’d meant when he reached for the door and ushered me in, closing it gently between us. Sunlight streamed through the glass door as our gazes met. The look of love that shimmered in his beautiful eyes mirrored mine. Then he turned his back and moved away. My heart broke into a thousand pieces as I watched Seton’s dark figure disappear down the street.

  It hurt to see him go, but it was necessary. I wasn’t ready to be with him, or with anyone. I didn’t want to evoke the feelings—confusion, heartbreak, fears of rejection—that followed whenever we were together. His life would be miserable, putting up with an unstable and insecure woman like me, and he deserved better than that. He would find the perfect submissive girl for him—someone fierce and obedient at the same time—I had no doubts about that. As for me, well, I had to get my shit together before I ventured into a meaningful relationship with someone new. As they say, in order to love someone, you have to first love yourself.

  Fighting back another wave of longing, I turned and sauntered over to the elevator. It was time to take measures into my own hands.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you wear granny panties?”

  I looked up from the box I was filling up with stuff and frowned at Magda. “Granny panties?”

  “Yeah, granny panties. You know, those stretchy, stomach-holding monstrosities that cover your whole ass and almost reach down your thighs. Do you wear them?”

  Uh, no, wouldn’t get caught in them. Granny bras I could handle, but granny panties? Ick! No way. But I had a feeling that wasn’t the answer Magda was hoping to get, so I lied. “From time to time.”

  “And why do you wear them?”

  I shrugged. “Because they’re comfortable?”

  “Exactly!” she enthused and skirted her way around piles upon piles of boxes scattered around my small office. I had no idea I’
d gathered so much crap over the years. I suppressed a shiver when I thought of all the junk stored in my apartment. Now that was going to be a challenge.

  “Tom and I are having dinner the other night,” Magda went on, “and suddenly he looks up at me and says, ‘How come you don’t wear thongs anymore?’ And I say to him, ‘You try wearing something with a tiny string up your ass all day, and then we’ll talk.’ ” She grunted, tugging irritably on her beige blouse as she stuffed books into one of the boxes. “Men. They only think with their dicks, don’t they? Now he wants to watch porn with me! He came home the other night with a triple-X DVD and—”

  “Do you know what ‘TMI’ means?”

  “Too Much Information. Anyway, so he made me watch this porn DVD about a nurse who tries to treat a man’s incurable erection—stupid plot—by fucking his brains out, and I couldn’t help laughing at how ridiculous it all was. I was, like, ‘Dude, real nurses don’t wear micro white dresses with their tits hanging out, and they definitely don’t wear five-inch heels.’ To which he responded, ‘Shut up, woman, you’re ruining the mood.’ He wanted me to jerk him off while we watched that train wreck, but I couldn’t get into it. Those women can’t even act. I’m better at faking orgasms than those so-called ‘pros.’ So then he—”

  “Okay,” I cut her off, covering my ears. “Enough! I am actually picturing you and Tom watching porn in your living room couch and it’s got to stop! Way too much information, there, Missy.”

  Magda laughed. “I’m sorry. I got a little carried away there, didn’t I? Jeremy is better at listening to this sort of thing than other people.”

  My eyebrows shot up at that. “Do not confide in Jeremy! He’s a tattletale of the worst caliber. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  She waved away my warning. “I’m not worried. Sorry for the TMI. I guess I’m a little pissed off, is all.”

  I smiled. “Let me guess, your mom’s coming over for the weekend.”

  Magda groaned. “Worse. She’s planning to move in with us permanently. We should have never bought a house with a spare bedroom. It was only a matter of time before she made the announcement.”