CATCH (The Billionaire's Rules, Book 14) (2 page)

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. She swallowed, shut her mouth and then took a big gulp of her champagne. “I didn’t expect you to…to do that,” she said, finally.

“You’re a virgin,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “And although I admit, it’s highly appealing to imagine myself deflowering you, it wouldn’t be right. I’m not the kind of man you should be with your first time.”

“Like I said—“

“Shhh…” His eyes went flat. He walked two steps towards her and stared directly at her. “I’m explaining things, so be quiet and listen.” He clasped his hands together like a teacher. “I’m not going to fuck you, but I
am
going to do a lot of other things to you. Things that you’re going to enjoy. I’ll eat your pussy. I’ll suck on your tits, and I’ll put my fingers inside you.”

Lanie was shocked at his words, but even more shocked at how wet and excited his words were making her.

She knew she should be insulted. But she wasn’t.

“Okay,” she whispered, her eyes slightly downcast. How was she supposed to respond to this? Yes, she wanted him. Wanted him more than ever—but still. His blunt honesty around his intentions was disconcerting.

He nodded as if her reaction was no surprise to him. “You’ll suck my cock again, too,” he told her. “But there’s more.”

“More?” she breathed, hardly able to speak now.

“Yes,” he said. “In a moment, I’m going to spank your ass. I’m going to spank it very hard, Lanie, because you refused to listen to me. I told you not to touch your blindfold, and you tore it off. I told you not to ask questions, and yet you continued to ask more and more questions.”

“I’m sorry—“

He held up a hand, his jaw twitching again. “The point is, we’re entering into the next phase of our…relationship…for lack of a better term. You will listen to me, or you will be spanked. And if you keep disobeying me, then it will lead to other results. But for now, I think spanking is sufficient.”

“And what if I say no?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Maybe she was taunting him. Lanie didn’t even know, she only knew that her nipples were hard and her pussy was wet and somehow she wasn’t nearly as disturbed by his declaration as she should’ve been.

Brayden’s eyes focused on her intently, and there was a darkness—a strange kind of desperate hunger—that she hadn’t expected to see in him.

“If you say no?” he asked, as if the thought had never even occurred to him.

She nodded, trying to stay strong and confident in the face of his intimidating presence. “I don’t have to agree to any of this.”

“That’s true,” he allowed. His eyes looked her up and down, taking her breath away, as she felt him almost undressing her visually.

Her skin broke into goose bumps and she felt her pussy moistening, tightening, everything in her growing excited by the way he was staring at her. “How many women have you brought here?” she asked, glancing down at her glass of champagne before looking at him once more.

“I don’t see why that matters.”

“It matters to me,” she said, her shin jutting out as she felt herself growing more frustrated with his insistence on controlling every aspect of their dynamic.

“Why does it matter?” he asked, coming closer. His hand reached out and touched the glass she was holding, his fingers sliding over hers.

She felt herself shake ever so slightly from his contact. “It just does,” she breathed, struggling to think straight as his body came near.

As if he knew the effect he was having, Brayden smiled wider. “You know that I’ve been with many women. I’ve never hidden that from you or anyone else.”

“But this is different,” she said. “This place, this new phase, whatever you call it—this isn’t the same.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she told him, her voice rising. She tried to back away and his hand shot out and grabbed her around the waist, preventing her retreat.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“Because, I don’t want to be just like every other girl.” Her cheeks flamed as she admitted this to him. She looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

“Look at me, Lanie.” He touched her cheek softly.

She forced her gaze up to meet his and was shocked at the heat there, the sense of need, of wanting, of desire that fully matched her own.

He smiled enigmatically. “You’ll never be just like every other girl. It’s an impossibility.”

Lanie swallowed. “I’m still confused.”

He frowned now and his voice was sharp. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

He withdrew, moving away from her, his movements harsh and annoyed as he went to the table and poured himself another glass of champagne. “I’m not here to sell this idea to you. It’s a proposition. Take it or leave it but don’t waste anymore of my time.”

“Waste your time?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

He shook his head. “I could have anyone I wanted in here with me. Models, actresses, the most beautiful and sexy women in the world—“

“Then get one of them,” she said, turning and heading for the door.

“Lanie!” he shouted.

She stopped in her tracks, not looking at him. Just waiting. “What.”

“If you leave this room…”

“What? You’ll fire me?”

“If you leave,” he said, his voice darker and angrier, “then this will never happen again. This thing between us will be finished. I’m serious.”

She stood there for a moment and considered what he was telling her. This was the ultimate ultimatum. Either be demeaned, spanked, treated like every other model and wannabe actress that he’d paraded through this seedy room—or take what little self-esteem she had left and leave.

And then you’ll never feel his touch again. Never touch him again.

It felt like physical pain to consider that this would end everything between them. Lanie couldn’t deny that her feelings for Brayden were real, and her physical attraction to him went beyond anything she’d ever experienced before.

But it wasn’t worth letting go of her dignity.

She started walking towards the door again.

“Lanie, think about what you’re doing right now,” he called after her.

She looked back briefly and gave him a quick smile. “I have thought about it.” And then she turned and strode to the door, opened it and walked out. Lanie continued down the strange hall, past the myriad doors that led to other rooms, and heard muffled sounds of sex and pain and pleasure that apparently passed for courting in these parts.

One door was open—and in this room, as she went by, she glimpsed a fully naked woman, spread eagled, her buttocks red, and a muscular man holding a long paddle, readying to swing it again.

Lanie was tempted to watch, but no. She needed to keep moving, and she did, hearing the echoes of the slapping sounds, and the moans and grunts of the woman being paddled fading into the distance.

When Lanie finally emerged onto the street, she realized she had no idea where she was. She’d been blindfolded for the entire ride and had no clue how to get home.

“Shit,” she muttered, turning on her cell phone and trying to get the GPS working.

As she stood on the corner, fumbling, a car pulled alongside her and stopped. She glanced up and saw Brayden staring out of the open window on the driver’s side.

“Get in,” he told her.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Come on,” Brayden continued. “I’ll give you a ride home, at least.”

She licked her lips. “But nothing’s going to happen. You said it’s over between us.”

He gave a shrug. “I heard you, Lanie. It’s just a ride home.”

She sighed and walked around the car, got into the passenger seat. Once she’d gotten into his car, and they were driving again, Lanie got a burst of sadness.

Brayden had turned on the radio and there was some melancholy alternative rock song playing low, but it gave her chills, as she kept the window down and let the air breeze in through her window.

She felt relaxed and strangely at home in the car with him.

Why does it have to be so hard?

This feels right, like I belong here with him
.

But obviously, she thought, that couldn’t be true. She wanted to belong with Brayden Forman, but he was out of her league in too many ways to count.

And he appeared to know it.

But you’re the one who turned him down, Lanie. He wanted you. He wanted you and you chickened out.

Brayden glanced over at her. “You seem quiet.”

She sighed. “I like being with you. I like this. This, right now.” She couldn’t seem to quite describe it, and her hands twisted against each other, fingers intertwining nervously as she looked down, not willing to meet his gaze anymore.

“I like this too,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

She smiled. “But somehow…it’s all gone screwy.”

“You can say that again.”

She laughed. “Maybe we could be…I don’t know…friends?”

“No,” he said, instantly.

There was a long, telling silence. She nodded. “Yeah, of course. Friends. How cheesy of me.”

“It’s not cheesy, it’s just not who I am.”

She looked at him, finally. It felt safer, and besides, he’d begun looking straight ahead at the road. “So who are you, Brayden?”

“I’m just never going to be that kind of person. I’m never going to be that friend you can count on, Lanie. It’s useless to even think about it.”

“I won’t think about it, then.” She sighed and looked out the window as the melancholy guitar continued to sound out, making her heart ache even more.

After a time, Brayden pulled the car up to the sidewalk and parked it again.

She looked up and saw that they were parked in front of some fancy hotel, the Park Savoy. It was a gorgeous building—one of those old, fancy, large New York hotels where people were all polished, and their cars and clothes and shoes and jewelry all gleamed as thought they’d been bought at the same old money store.

“Ready?” he asked, as he turned off the engine and opened his door.

“Ready for what? What are we doing here?”

“I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said.

“But…I thought you said…”

“Consider it my way of showing you there’s no hard feelings.” He got out of the car, and Lanie took a deep breath.

One of the valet attendants opened her door. “Evening, ma’am.”

She got out, feeling distinctly underdressed. Her skirt was so short, and she tugged at it, feeling the air on her legs—all the way up her thighs.

The older men standing nearby in their suits and ties, with bushy eyebrows, stared at her legs so long that she wanted to hide.

But then Brayden was taking her hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling her towards the restaurant entrance.

* * *

M
idway through dinner
, Lanie blurted out: “I’m drunk.”

Brayden chuckled. “Have a little more water, then. And a little less wine.”

“But the wine
is
amazing.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Actually, all the food’s amazing.” She stuck her fork into a piece of the tender pork loin and raised it to her lips, then inserted the delicate morsel into her mouth and began chewing.

Every bite was exquisite.

She rolled her eyes into the back of her head and gave a low moan of pleasure.

They were sitting at a romantic table by the window, and outside the lights of various shops, buildings and cars reflected against the glass.

Inside, the restaurant was crowded and she felt less exposed.

Brayden smiled at her, but his eyes were watchful. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it all.”

She nodded, swallowing her food and then taking a long sip of cold water, showing the glass to him as if for his approval. “I am.” She sighed. “But this can’t ever happen again, right? We can’t just go out to dinner, can’t be friends...”

Brayden shrugged. “It’s not how I’m built.”

“You’re a robot?”

“No, I’m a very specific person with specific desires.”

She felt her cheeks flush and she blinked rapidly. “But is this not enjoyable for you? What we’re doing right now?”

He shifted in his seat and swished the dark wine in his glass before replying. “It’s enjoyable the way a vegetarian might occasionally smell a burger and find their mouth watering over it.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Wait, who’s a vegetarian? I’m eating pork loin and you had a steak.”

“Okay, then.” He leaned slightly forward. “Pretend you didn’t really like seafood, but occasionally you might still have a tuna sandwich.”

“So dinner with me is like a burger for a vegetarian or seafood for someone who dislikes seafood.” Lanie raised her eyebrows. “Somehow, equating our being friends with a stinky tuna sandwich seems a little crass.”

“It’s not personal,” Brayden told her. “It’s just how I am.
This
isn’t me.”

“But I didn’t ask for this,” she said. “I didn’t ask to come to this restaurant.”

“I wanted to do it,” he told her.

“Why?”

He sat back now. His smile faded and his eyes grew distant. “I’m not completely sure.” He made a surprised face. “It just seemed like the thing to do. I’m glad we’re here together. But after tonight…” his voice trailed off and he waved a hand as if using a magic wand to erase everything.