“You’re excited for dinner?”
“I am,” she replies and her smile widens. My chest swells with pride that I can put that beautiful look on her face.
My hand rests gently on her lower back and I lead her along.
She’s quiet as we walk down the hallway and get into the elevator. The lighthearted feelings wane as I think about where we’re going. It’s late, but the paparazzi will be there, Andrea assures me in her text back. We won’t even know they’re there. A late-night candlelit dinner for two in a private room. It should be enough to satisfy the PR firm.
I clear my throat and consider what Dahlia will think of this. She needs to know this is a stunt and nothing more, but the thought of telling her the truth sends a prickle of unease down my skin. I don’t want her to know any more than she has to. I also don’t want her to be disappointed. She’s genuinely happy, and I don’t want to take that away.
“We’ll be dining alone tonight.” I have to set the ground rules for her. This isn’t a date. I’m not an eligible bachelor. This is simply a dinner that she’s attending with me as a Submissive, although, things will obviously be different.
“The rules are different outside the playroom, Dahlia,” I tell her as I key in the code in the elevator chambers to take us to my floor of the garage.
She huffs a small laugh and her eyes slowly rise to meet mine. “I’m not even sure I know the rules in the playroom,” she says softly.
Something about the look in her eyes makes me weak for her.
“Of course you do. You’re perfect in the playroom, treasure,” I say and cup her chin in my hand and run my thumb along her lower lip. They beg me to kiss her, but there are lines I’m not yet ready to cross. I don’t want to lead her on, and this is already pushing it.
“You submit, and do your best to obey. You accept your punishment and best of all, you enjoy it.” I release her as the elevator stops and lead the way out.
“That’s all I ask of you, but when we’re outside of the playroom, it’s going to be far more difficult.” She walks quickly to stay beside me as I stride toward the grey metal key box on the wall. The key to the penthouse opens it, and I pick out the Porsche 911. It’s sleek and I want something different for tonight. Something hotter.
I eye my treasure. She looks beautiful, but she’s dressed as if she could be my secretary or my assistant. I don’t want anyone mistaking her for anything other than what she is. She’s mine.
Tomorrow I’ll have the clothes sent to her place. Enough for a few dates at least. The idea of changing the rules and bringing our play out into the public is thrilling. It’s new and different, and a challenge.
“Do you think you can play by a new set of rules, Dahlia?” I ask her.
She meets my gaze and nods, “Yes, sir.”
“That’s the first change.” She pulls the jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. The wind is harsh as it blows into the cement garage.
She stares at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes flashing with a hint of uncertainty. “You’ll call me Lucian when we’re in public. And you’re to act as though we’re a couple.”
“I can do that,” she says thoughtfully.
My skin chills as I lead her to the red sports car and open the door. She walks quietly by my side, absorbing my words. I’m not interested in blurring these lines, and it may be difficult for her to remember what this is between us.
“Thank you,” she says as she slips into the passenger seat. I wait until she’s fully inside to gently shut the door.
My gut twists in my stomach knowing I’m leading myself to paparazzi. They’re leeches and I hate the thought that I’m relying on them for this PR stunt, but if it works in my favor, I’ll suffer through it.
I close my door and press the start button, the car purring to life. I glance at Dahlia and her legs have goosebumps, she’s nearly shivering, huddled inside of my jacket. I click on the heated seats, but the heat itself will have to wait until the car heats.
“The rules are simple, Dahlia.” I glance at her and then back onto the road. “You act as though we’re a couple, just be mindful that people will be watching, even when you think no one is.” I readjust in my seat and consider my next words, “Be respectful to me as your Dom. I know this is new to you, but you understand what that means, don’t you?” I watch her from the corner of my eye.
“I think so,” she answers hesitantly.
“Go on then.”
“A Submissive is supposed to treat her Dominant with respect.”
“As should a Dominant to his Submissive,” I respond easily. I’m surprised by the flash of shock on her face and how her sweet lips part. “You don’t agree?”
“I-” she starts to answer, but she doesn’t finish her statement.
“Tell me about why you enjoy this, Dahlia.” I keep my eyes on the road, but I’m fully focused on my treasure. It’s important to me that we’re on the same page here. I keep forgetting she’s never done this before. That everything is new and different.
“I enjoy…” her voice trails off and she looks out of the window, tucking her hair back as she clears her throat. “I enjoy it when you’re rough with me.” She whispers her words, and the soft sounds makes my dick harden in my pants.
“I enjoy that, too,” I tease her. “But this is more than just rough sex,” I add.
“Yes,” she answers diligently, nodding her head. “It’s about me submitting all things and giving you control of the situation.”
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. “And for you to trust that I know what you need, and that I’ll provide it for you.” I hold her gaze as we stop at a red light. Waiting for her to acknowledge that.
“Right,” she says softly although there’s no conviction in her voice.
“You’ve never had a relationship like ours before? But you’ve had boyfriends I assume?” It sounds odd to say the term boyfriend. I never much liked the word.
“I have.”
“And would you call them dominant?” I ask her.
Her forehead pinches and she shakes her head slightly. “No. I wouldn’t.” She puts a finger to her lip and seems to truly consider what I’m asking.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“My last… my ex.” I drive easily, listening to her tell me about her experience. “He didn’t really know how to help me in ways that I needed him to.” It’s a rather cryptic response, but I respect her privacy if she’s not willing to divulge any more information.
“And you communicated your needs, but they weren’t fulfilled. You couldn’t trust him to take care of you in that way?”
“Right,” she nods her head, “so yeah, I wouldn’t say he was my Dominant. He didn’t know how to be,” her voice is soft and coated with the sound of realization. “He couldn’t be my Dom.”
“Is that why it didn’t last?” I ask her. I’m curious. The conversation itself has made me want to know more.
“He just didn’t understand.” She answers with a sadness I wasn’t expecting.
“What’s that?”
“Hmm?” she hums.
“What didn’t he understand?”
“I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright?” The shyness and sadness mix in her eyes. Also apprehension.
“That’s fine, treasure. You can keep a few secrets.”
“My point was I respect your needs and your submission, and you do the same for me and my dominance. It’s about trust, respect and communication.”
I pull through the valet at the Ritz-Carlton and put the car in park so I can look at her. “Do you think I don’t respect you, Dahlia?”
I ask her in all seriousness. I respect her and her submission. I know her needs, and what she enjoys. We share the same desires, so it’s been extremely easy for me to fall into the dominant role in our relationship and fulfill her needs, but maybe I’ve missed something.
I lean forward and take her chin in my hand, tilting her l
ips to mine and planting a small chaste kiss against them. “Don’t forget for even one second, that every time I smack my hand across your ass, it’s because I know you need it.” I nip her bottom lip and then whisper, “Every time I fuck you until you can’t breathe, it’s because I know you want it.” Her eyes close, and her lips part with lust. I reach my hand down and let my fingers play along the thin fabric of her underwear. “I give you want you want, I respect your needs, I cherish them.”
“And you’ll do the same for me, won’t you, treasure?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispers with lust.
“Ah, ah,” I say as I pull away, turning the car off and pulling the key out. “Right now, it’s ‘yes, Lucian.’”
Chapter 16
Dahlia
Every time I fuck you until you can’t breathe, it’s because I know you need it.
Lucian’s words repeat in my mind as I climb out of his sports car, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the gorgeous view. Holding the door for me, Lucian gives me a boyish grin as a young valet dressed in a black suit and gold vest jogs up to us and hastily greets Lucian with a slight nod, asking him for the keys to the car.
“This is beautiful,” I breathe, turning to Lucian and shaking my head. The valet grabs the keys from Lucian, grinning at the sports car like a kid at Christmas, before running around to the driver’s side and jumping in. “I’ve never been taken to a place like this. Ever.” I turn back and take in the restaurant with awe, admiring the scenic view. The building, which is cut of exquisite grey stone and has gleaming tall glass windows adorning the front, sits back on a terrace overlooking a beautiful lake. Floodlighting brightens the entire area, showcasing every inch of the grandmaster masonry. Intricately designed stamped concrete steps lead up to the entrance, a sparkling water fountain with ambient lighting rests at the center of the plaza, and a fancy balustrade runs up along each side. The full moon looms in the starry night sky, milky white light reflected against the water, making the scene even more romantic.
I watch in wonder as men in expensive suits and ties walk up the steps with women dressed in absolute finery on their arms. The gowns these ladies are wearing look like they cost a fortune, dazzling jewels and all, and it makes me feel more than a little self-conscious.
No wonder Lucian wasn’t pleased by my outfit, I think to myself, glancing down at my outfit that seems drab compared to the others. He’s accustomed to seeing women wearing all this.
Lucian is enjoying my shock, watching me with obvious amusement. “I thought you might like it,” he says, splaying a hand across the small of my back. “But come, I think you’ll enjoy the inside even more.”
Breathless, I allow him to lead me up the steps to the restaurant, and I try to appear confident like all the other women around me. Like I belong on Lucian’s arm. But it’s hard. I can’t stop worrying about people looking at me and thinking that I look out of place. Glancing around, no one seems to be paying us any mind, and the pleasant sounds of the waterfall take the edge off my anxiety.
Unconsciously I reach for Lucian’s hand, wanting to feel security and comfort, and then snatch it back, fearful that I might be crossing the line. Shit. I didn’t mean to do that. But isn’t that what Lucian wants me to do? Pretend I’m his girlfriend? It’s confusing, and my emotions and anxiety are getting the best of me.
I bite my lower lip nervously, glancing over at Lucian. He doesn’t seem to have noticed my misstep and even places his hand on my right hip, guiding me up the last of the steps leading to the terrace.
Inside I’m completely blown away by the ritzy, upscale setting. The high-ceilinged room is a splash of gold and white, filled with luxury seating and high-class booths. There are several crowded bars on either side of the room, manned by attractive bartenders in deluxe suits. Delicate music seems to float to my ears from nowhere and a delightful scented fragrance tickles my nose. The walls are adorned with gold lights made up of gorgeous patterns that blend in with everything else, and on the back wall, the floor-to-ceiling windows provide a breathtaking view of the moonlit lake. The room is filled with the ultra-wealthy, the din of their chatter almost making me dizzy. I take it all in with a sharp breath. The seating, the lighting, the ambience--all of it is done to perfection.
“This is incredible,” I say just above a murmur, unable to find a better word, my nervousness returning. I’ve never been somewhere like this in my entire life, and I feel totally out of my element. I step closer to Lucian and cling to his arm, wishing I could shrink and hide behind him as we move through a crowd of finely dressed couples toward the waiting area.
“I’m happy you like it.” Lucian seems unconcerned with my anxiety and even wraps his arm around my waist as a waiter immediately approaches us. My cheeks redden at how Lucian is acting like I’m his property, and I have to take a moment to remember that he’s doing this for show. I can’t enjoy this too much. I can’t get used to this either.
The waiter nods his head at Lucian, his eyes taking me in for a moment and then going back to Lucian. “Right this way, Mr. Stone. Your reservation is ready.”
The waiter leads us over to a luxurious booth in a secluded corner and I try to walk with confidence on the way over, but I almost trip. A small gasp slips through my lips, and my heart stutters in my chest. Luckily, Lucian hooks me with his arm and keeps me from falling, smoothly guiding me to the table like nothing happened. My heart’s in my throat as I walk the remaining few steps, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I don’t look around to see if anyone saw.
The waiter produces two menus but Lucian politely waves him away as he says, “I already know what we’d like to order.”
“Of course, sir.” Another young man dressed in a crisp black suit quietly fills the crystal globe glasses on our table with water from a pitcher as Lucian orders.
“A bottle of chardonnay to drink, black cod brûlée,” Lucian nods in my direction while passing the menus back, “and ribeye with goat cheese dipped in Meyer lemon honey mustard.”
The waiter slips the menus back into a pouch at his waist, and takes out a pen and pad in one smooth flourish.
I part my lips to say something about Lucian ordering for me, but then close them. He’s still my Dom. The rules have changed slightly, but not really.
“You’ll love it,” Lucian assures me with a small smile, seeing the question in my eyes.
“Of course, sir.” The waiter nods as he scribbles notes on his pad. “Any appetizers?”
Lucian shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can with your drinks. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
I watch as he walks away, past a few tables of romantic couples dining in luxury and try to relax in my seat. But my nerves have a grip on me. Blowing out a breath, I take a peek around and my stomach tightens even more. I can’t get over the fact that I’m dining with the upper crust of society. Club X had filthy rich diners, but that’s different. There, it’s horny rich men looking to pay money to hook up with women from all socioeconomic backgrounds. Here, everyone’s come to spend a boatload of money on food just because they can.
And I’m probably the only woman in the room who’s here as almost a paid prostitute. The thought is unsettling and makes my stomach turn. I reach for my water, the crystal glass cold in my hand and take a sip.
I nervously finger my silverware, not sure how to act. I feel so anxious, I almost want to get up and leave. Why did Lucian bring me here again? Our contract said nothing about wining and dining with rich people. I thought it was all supposed to be about sex, whips and chains. Maybe this is some sort of test.
Noticing my nervousness, Lucian hooks his finger under my chin, drawing my eyes to him.
“You need to relax, treasure,” he says softly. His eyes are filled with empathy and his concern goes a long way in calming my anxiety. “These people aren’t any better than you are. Trust me on that.” He says his words with such
conviction that I actually believe him for a short moment.
Looking at him, I’m reminded again of his words in the car. I respect your needs and your submission, and you do the same for me and my dominance. It’s about trust, respect and communication.
Before I can say anything in return, the waiter comes back, gently setting our wine glasses down in front of us one by one and pouring a small amount of the wine in Lucian’s glass.
Lucian motions for him to continue pouring without taking a sip. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” the waiter asks as he finishes pouring the wine and then gently sets the bottle on the table.
“No,” Lucian replies. “Thank you.”
A moment passes in silence. Lucian grabs his glass of wine and relaxes in his seat. I envy him. He seems so at ease in this setting, so used to being surrounded by such awesome wealth.
“So how did you find out about Club X?” Lucian asks suddenly, looking at me with an intensity that makes me forget about all my worries for a moment and causes a shiver to run down my spine. Although I’m still slightly on edge, I love the way he’s looking at me; like I’m the only one in the room. And seeing as how we’re surrounded by beautiful, wealthy-looking women that make me feel insecure, I feel pretty fucking special right about now.
I pause for a moment, lowering my gaze, my skin pricking at the soft emotions swelling my breasts. I’m unsure if I should tell him how Carla approached me and swore me to secrecy, but I decide there’s little harm. He’s a member of Club X, not an outsider. I won’t be revealing anything about the club he doesn’t already know. “My friend, Carla, told me about it one day out of the blue,” I say softly.
Lucian arches a brow, his fingers running along the stem of his glass. “Any particular reason?”
I blush slightly at the memory, but I’m glad that we’re talking. The conversation is helping me relax, and focusing on Lucian is making it easy to tune out the people around me. “She invited me because she said she could tell I’d like it. She said I was an obvious Submissive and that I’d enjoy it.”
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