Fifty Shades of BDSM Trilogy (3 page)

Jack hesitated for a moment before entering
the pass code into the keypad. The door slid open soundlessly, and
he leaned in to turn on the light.

I did my best to still my nerves as I stepped
inside. The dungeon looked like something straight out of a horror
movie, with manacles hanging from the walls and ceiling. There was
a wooden saw horse upholstered with rich black leather in one
corner of the room. In another, was a stockade with a t-bar a few
feet away. I could only assume that it was meant for the person to
be restrained while bending over. Against the back wall was a
queen-size bed. It would have been the only innocent looking piece
of furniture in the room if not for the steel shackles that were
welded onto the bed posts.

“What do you think?” Jack asked as he watched
me cross the room to look at the wall that had a rack of paddles,
riding crops, and whips neatly displayed on it.

I sighed, searching for the right words to
say that wouldn't offend him or make our time in the room any more
awkward. “I don't know what to think.”

My true thoughts were that he must be sick to
enjoy this. It couldn't be normal—wasn't normal. What had happened
to Jack to make him this way and why did he feel the need to force
this on me when I obviously didn't want it?

“I realize that it's a bit overwhelming for
you.” He cautiously stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around
my shoulders. My body instantly tensed at his touch. “But we'll be
happy together. I promise.”

How could he make such a promise without even
knowing me? It was like saying that a lion could co-exist
peacefully with a lamb without knowing the true nature of the
beasts. One predator, the other prey. I knew which animal I felt
like in that moment.

“I scheduled your flight for Sunday,” he said
matter of factually, dropping the loving fiancé act but still
sounding gentle none the less. “You'll arrive in Sacramento where a
limousine will take you to the facility in Napa Valley. It's a
private place. Very quaint and beautiful. Nestled among grape vines
and rolling hills. I think you'll enjoy it very much so. I know
that I did when I toured the place.”

“You toured the place?” I wasn't sure why I
sounded surprised. My mind was muddled with shock that I was
leaving so soon, among other things. It was yet another surreal
moment that my brain was having a difficult time coping with.

“Of course I did. There's no way I would send
the love of my life to a school without approving it myself first.”
Jack hugged me tenderly, and for some reason, I did find it
comforting.

“Everything is happening so fast. I didn't
expect it to be like this,” I admitted.

“What did you expect it to be like?”

I was too embarrassed to admit the truth.
Perhaps it wasn't what I had expected, but it was what I had hoped
for—that Jack would be like Liam, sweet and romantic, but with a
bit more money and style. I had imagined that he would wine and
dine me, sweep me off my feet and romance me like a fairytale
princess. I imagined us sitting up late at night, telling each
other stories of our childhoods—relating on so many levels to
growing up wealthy and over protected. I thought Jack would be a
kindred spirit—the man of my dreams—the perfect husband.

“I don't know what I expected,” I told him
finally.

Jack knew it was a lie but didn't press any
further. “Let's get out of here,” he whispered. “I would not see
you frown a second longer.”

We left the dismal dungeon and headed out
onto the road for some sight-seeing. Everywhere we went, I could
feel eyes on us, analyzing our relationship. The paparazzi made an
appearance when we toured the Statue of Liberty, and I did my best
to seem as poised as possible. Jack was more than willing to pose
for the cameras, gathering me up in his arms and placing a
confident kiss on my cheek, as if we had already spent a lifetime
together. I admired the way he catered to the media, always polite
no matter how invasive they got. I only hoped I could hold myself
together so well when they got me alone.

For dinner, Jack took me out to eat at Masa,
an exquisite Japanese restaurant in the Time Warner Center. The
experience was fun and refreshing, considering that there were no
menus to order from. We spent three hours receiving course after
course of seafood, sushi, and truffle items. By the time we left, I
was practically waddling, I was so full.

“That was absolutely amazing,” I told Jack as
we climbed back into his Lamborghini.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he replied, simply
sitting and staring at me.

“What is it?” I felt my cheeks burning from
his intense gaze.

“I think this is only the second time I've
seen you smile since you've been here.”

“That's not true.” I was certain I had smiled
plenty, so much that my face ached from it.

“I mean genuinely.” The corner of his lip
curled into a grin. “I can tell when you're faking it.”

“How?”

“Because your eyes don't wrinkle at the
corners when you fake smile.”

“Are you saying I look old?” My mouth dropped
open in mock disbelief, and I could tell by Jack's expression that
he seriously believed he had offended me.

“No, I don't mean that at all—“

“Jack, it's alright,” I cut him off. “I was
just playing. I know what you're talking about. There's a muscle
around the eye called the orbicularis oculi. It contracts when
someone's smile is genuine, producing laugh lines.”

He ran his hands through his dark tousled
hair. “Wow, beautiful and smart. I really hit the jack pot.”

I ignored his sudden awkwardness. “Watching
the sushi masters prepare the sushi was like watching a painter
create art. It was a truly magical experience, and I greatly
appreciate it.”

“We'll experience many more magical moments
together,” his tone softened.

By the time Jack got me home, his parents had
already gone to bed. He walked me to the doorstep, pausing in the
entryway to gaze deeply into my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest
from thoughts of every romance movie I had ever seen. This was the
part where the boy kissed the girl.

I tried to steady myself, allowing my eyes to
fall to Jack's lips. They were thin, with a short layer of dark
stubble surrounding them. His breathing changed, and I noticed the
slight movement of his body as he shifted his weight from one foot
to the other. It felt like an eternity before anything happened,
and I tried not to seem too expectant as I stood there, waiting for
Jack to kiss me.

Almost too suddenly, he leaned and placed a
chaste kiss on the side of my mouth, sweet and innocent. I wanted
more, but didn't dare advance on him. It was his job to take
charge. That's what I had always been taught, at least. A proper
lady never kissed a man first.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Jack muttered before
leaving me there, dumbstruck.

What a mystery Jack Kemble was to me. One
minute, he was calm and collected. The next, he was like a shy
little school boy on the playground. For someone who had supposedly
been with dozens of women, he seemed absolutely clueless about what
women actually wanted.

I sighed as I laid in bed, staring up at the
ceiling and letting my mind deconstruct the day piece by piece.
Flowers at lunch, a ride in the Lamborghini, and a fancy dinner at
Masa. Jack was obviously trying to impress me. And then there was
the dungeon, the confident kiss for the paparazzi, and the not so
confident kiss on the front stoop. It was strange to realize that
he appeared to be more vulnerable when we were alone together, and
I couldn't help but feel that Jack was hiding something from me,
though I couldn't figure out what it was.

Thankfully, I was able to get to sleep at a
decent hour and woke promptly the next morning in time for
breakfast. I trotted downstairs with refreshed vigor. The more I
thought about it, things were going fairly well, aside from the
strange request for me to attend the BDSM school. Jack had been a
perfect gentleman, for the most part, and I was certainly not
unhappy when in his presence.

During the week, Jack had to work at his
corporation, so I spent most of the day trailing behind his mother,
going to get pampered at the spa and planning the wedding. It
quickly became obvious that she thought it was her wedding, not
mine, but I didn't bother to argue. There had been few things in my
life that I had actually had a say in since coming to New York. Why
should my wedding be any different? I resigned myself to nodding
and smiling, giving my opinion when it was asked of me, and keeping
quiet otherwise. These were the cards that I had been dealt, so I
would play then with as much grace as a world-class poker player,
bluffing my way through when I really wanted to fold.

In the evening, Jack would pick me up for
dinner. He would always take me somewhere over the top, like
DaNeil's or GILT at the New York Palace Hotel. As the week
progressed, he seemed much more comfortable around me, and I around
him. We talked about his day at work, my day with his mom, how the
wedding preparations were going, and changes I would like to make
to his mansion whenever we were married. The only inclusion I
specifically requested was a room where I could work on my
paintings. My concert grand pedal harp could go in the living room
next to his baby grand piano.

Every night, when he dropped me back off at
his parent's house, he'd give me a chaste kiss on the side of the
mouth, and every night, I'd want something more.

The night before my flight to Sacramento,
Jack arranged for an intimate dinner at his mansion. I was
pleasantly surprised by the romantic ambiance as he escorted me
into his dining room. The long mahogany table was set with fine
China, and dim candle light played off the walls from taper candles
that were places strategically around a fresh flower centerpiece.
The scent of the blooms mingled in with the crisp bite of wine and
the tantalizing aroma of cooked fish in a white butter crème sauce.
Everything looked and smelled exquisite.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Jack asked
before taking a sip of Chenin Blanc. The dry white wine wasn't
particularly to my liking, but I did my best to pretend, nursing my
glass with little enthusiasm towards it.

“Of course I am,” I replied. “To be honest, I
don't have much experience with sex.”

“Well, being a virgin, I would assume not. I
called the school and informed them of your situation so that they
could make some modifications to your curriculum.”

“You make it sound so professional,” I
smirked, but in the back of my mind, I worried about why he would
need them to make modifications at all.

“It is. I personally went over your
curriculum with them on the phone and approved all of your classes,
had them take out the ones that you won't need, and replace them
with ones that I thought would benefit you.”

“So, what classes do you think will benefit
me?” all seriousness was gone from my voice, and I felt a bit
guilty for it.

“You'll just have to wait and see.” A
mischievous grin crossed Jack's face.

“So mysterious, you are, Mr. Jack
Kemble.”

“Was that a yodaism?” He perked up, and for
once he seemed more like a child than a man.

“No, it wasn't.” I shook my head, and then
had to bear the brief look of disappointment in his eyes.

“I imagine it will take us a while still to
get to know each other.” Jack poked at his fish with his fork.

“Naturally. I am curious though why you have
a BDSM fetish.”

Tension was palpable in the room as he tensed
up, and I almost immediately regretted asking the question. If I
wasn't to see Jack again for an entire week, I didn't want our last
night spent together to be awkward.

“I'll tell you after we're married,” he
replied in a tone that suggested I should not press the subject
further. Still, it felt like he was hiding too much, and the longer
I sat in his presence, the more it nagged at me.

“You know, I still don't feel comfortable
about being sent off so soon after arriving here.”

“It's a little late to back out now.”

“I'm not planning on backing out. I would
just like more of an explanation as to why this is necessary.”

His voice rose a notch, “I already told you
why it's necessary.”

We spent the rest of the meal in silence.
While my mind was swimming with questions, I knew better than to
irritate Jack with them. The mood had already been soured, and I
had no idea how to fix it.

That night, I missed Liam more than I ever
had before. How I longed to be wrapped in the comfort of his strong
arms with my head on his chest, listening to his steady stable
heart beat.

As my mind raced on past midnight, my
desperation for something familiar grew. Though I had told myself
that I wouldn't speak to Liam again until after the wedding, so as
not to cause drama between Jack and I, my need for him was
overwhelming. I turned my bedside table light on and reached for my
phone, taking a deep breath before I pressed the button that would
dial his number.

It rang twice before Liam answered, his voice
filled with concern, “Melita, what is it? What's happened?”

At first, I was startled by his reaction, but
then I remembered the time.

“I just miss you,” I whispered, trying to
hide my despair.

“I miss you too. But it's so late; I thought
something had happened.”

“I'm sorry. I just needed to hear your
voice.”

His tone steadied. “Is it bad there?”

It took everything in me to hide my
overwhelming emotions. “It's not bad, just different.”

“I don't think you'd call me at nearly two in
the morning for different.”

“The wedding is just stressing me out.
There's so much to do and not a whole lot of time.”