The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (14 page)

But when I walked, I was constantly aware of its coarse material.
 
It creaked and pressed against my ribcage, making it difficult to slouch when I sit.
 
I had to be sitting up straight all the time, and I wasn’t used to the rigid posture.
 
But Seton liked me in it, and I knew he would remove it at some point in the evening.
 
At least I hoped he would.

“You look lovely, my pet,” he murmured appraisingly.
 
“The quintessential Edwardian whore.”

Another blush hitched up my face.
 
He’d dressed me up like a whore again.
 
I tore my gaze away from his for a moment and sighed.
 
That was all I was to him, wasn’t I?
 
I was bartering away my body for his book—or so he thought—and this outfit, like the black leather dress, was a reminder of that.
 

“Look at me, Marjorie,” he commanded.

           
My eyes darted to him.
 
He was leaning very close to me, his mouth just inches from mine, but he didn’t kiss me.
 
Instead, he slid his hand into my corset and fished inside.
 
He caught the chain that linked my breasts and pulled on it forcibly.
 
I let out a startled scream, my body quivering with both pain and arousal.
 

“You’re my whore, Marjorie,” he said darkly.
 
“Like it or not, you have agreed to this, and now you’ll have to surrender to all of my urges, no matter how tasteless they may seem to you.”
 
Hard amusement lit the depths of his spectacled eyes as his gaze met mine.
 
“But you’re not at all put off by it.
 
You like it.
 
All of it.
 
Every move, every word.
 
I wouldn’t be talking to you this way if that weren’t the case.
 
So just accept it.
 
Surrender to it, darling.”

I took the chain from his fingers and slid it back into my corset, flinching from the pleasure-pain that traveled through my body when he tugged on it.
 
I leaned against the car’s leather seat and said nothing.
 
He was right.
 
I did like the things he did and said to me, no use in denying it.
 
But…

 
          
“I have no problems playing sex games with you,” I said, “just as long as they don’t monopolize my existence.
 
I do have a life of my own, you know.
 
I’ve got things to do, people to see—”

           
“Oh, really?” he cut me off, voice snappish.
 
“Like who?
 
That blonde chap you were sitting with at the coffee shop?”

           
I frowned.
 
“Mitch?
 
He’s one of my authors.
 
I edited his book last year.”

“Right.
 
Okay.”

           
His words held an edge that deepened my frown.
 
Was he jealous of Mitch?
 
Was that the reason he ignored me that morning?
 
Surely not.
 
Yet there was something in his voice that stirred uneasiness through me.
 
Something bothered him, but what?
 

           
He studied me silently for a second, eyes glinting puzzlingly in the slightly darkened car.
 
A faint sheen came from the tainted windows, casting a phantom-like shadow across Seton’s hard features.
 
“Why does it bother you so much that I call you a whore?”

           
I crossed my arms and shrugged.
 
“It’s not a nice thing to say.”

           
“But it turns you on.”

           
“Maybe,” I responded, blushing, “but it’s nevertheless insulting.”

           
“But you
are
a whore, my dear.”
 
His voice was flat.
 
Cold.
 
“You’re doing this for my book, are you not?”

So
that
was what bothered him!
 
But why?
 
Wasn’t he the one who approached me about it?
 
Hadn’t he set up the whole meeting with Alfred?
 
He had wanted me to accept his offer—didn’t he?
 
So what the hell was his problem now?

He looked at me as if daring me to deny his words.
 
I wasn’t about to argue with him, nor was I going to tell him that he was wrong, not when it was superfluous.
 
The end results would be the same no matter what happened in the future.
 
After he sold his book to a publisher—whether it was Bookends AtoZ or some other house—we would move on with our respective lives, and that was that.

I stretched out in the seat and glanced over at George.
 
He was peering at us through the rearview mirror.
 
He could see everything, hear everything.
 
I squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Could we please talk about this some other time?”

Seton said nothing for a few moments, just hooked his arm through mine and guided me toward him.
 
“Come sit on my lap, my pet,” he said sternly.
 

Before I could react, he hoisted me up and settled me on his lap, my thighs stretched out over his.
 
The long, thick length of his erection strafed my ass as I wiggled against him.
 
He groaned softly.
 

“Seton—”

“Not a bloody word if you’re only going to complain,” he said sharply.
 
“You’re here to obey me.
 
Go with it.”

His hand skimmed my thighs, his fingers gliding into the pantalets’ opening.
 
He lingered there, smoothing his fingers across my silky folds.
 
His caress was slow.
 
Gentle.
 
He moved them up and down, ever so slowly, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
 
Grasping his shoulder to steady myself, I turned worried eyes to George.
 
He was staring at us in the rearview mirror, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth curving into a lascivious smile.
 
An odd mixture of arousal and embarrassment passed over me as I cast pleading eyes to Seton.

The smile that tugged his lips was decidedly wicked.
 
“Wouldn’t it be naughty if I fucked you in front of George?” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.
 
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my pet?
 
You’ve fantasized about being watched, and I’m about to make it happen.”

What the—?
 
“How—how did you know that?” I asked, stunned.

Amusement touched the corners of his eyes.
 
“Lucky guess.”

Lucky guess, my ass!
 
He knew my clothes and shoe sizes, knew I’d fantasized about bondage, and now knew about my exhibitionistic fantasies.
 
I never gave him all of that information, so how the hell did he know it?
 

Was he guessing?
 
No friggin’ way.
 

Anger rose, and it was all I could do not to launch at him and make him tell me how he knew so much about me.
 
Damn it all if he’d been going around town, meeting with my ex-lovers and asking them questions about me!

“Who have you been talking to?” I shot out, outraged.
 
“Where did you—oh!!”

My anger abruptly left me when his thumb encircled my clit—caressing, probing, tormenting.
 
I gasped and shuddered, then shifted on his lap so that my legs were spread apart, granting him greater access.

Seton chuckled softly, then curled his free hand around my neck and pulled me toward him.
 
His mouth claimed mine in a hot, passionate kiss, possessing me in a way that no other man had.

 
As he ravaged my mouth and stroked my clit, I opened my eyes and glanced over at George.
 
He was concentrating on the road, his eyes traveling over to the rearview mirror from time to time, lust flickering in his dark eyes.
 
He was obviously enjoying the show.
 
And I, shameful as it was to admit it, took pleasure in watching him watching us.
 
How I’d feel about this afterwards I had no idea, but I wouldn’t worry about it, not now that Seton was doing all kinds of wonderful things with his questing fingers.

“That’s right, my pet,” he said when he abandoned my mouth.
 
“He’s watching us, watching you get frigged in the back of my car.”

At that moment, his thumb pressed into my clit, stroking faster and harder, and it was as if the heady sensations, mixed with George’s occasional glances and Seton’s dirty talk, had stirred something wild within me.
 
My body quivered, writhed, as the sweet pressure built and built and—

A loud cry escaped my throat, and I dug my fingers into Seton’s coat as the most exquisite waves rocked through me.

After what seemed like an eternity, awareness returned.
 
“Why do you have a driver?” was the first thought that entered my slow, foggy brain.

Seton laughed, withdrawing his fingers from inside me and smoothing them over my lips.
 
I flicked my tongue out, tasting myself.
 
“George is my assistant,” he answered, eyes smiling through the round glasses.
 
“He’s got various duties, one of which is driving me about town.
 
I haven’t gotten my US driver’s license yet and I’m being a law-abiding foreigner.”

A law-abiding foreigner who frigged women in the back of a car.
 
Incredible.

I placed a hand over his chest, holding him still and in place while I scrambled to my side of the seat.
 
Seton tried to keep me on his lap, but I held my ground.
 
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
 
Good.
 
I was too embarrassed to be ordered around now.
 
I didn’t think I’d be able to look into George’s leering little eyes again.
 
Sighing, I pressed my face against the window, avoiding both their gazes.

“Does he do this a lot too?
 
Does he watch you have sex with all of your girlfriends?”

A confused silence met my ears.
 
Then, “What are you on about?”

I shrugged and absently traced a circle over the misty window.
 
“Just wondering if you do this kind of thing often.
 
Are you seeing other women at the same time you’re seeing me?”

Pause.
 
“Does it matter?”

Which didn’t exactly answer my question.
 
Then again, did I want it answered?
 
Seton had a point, it didn’t matter.
 
Or, at least, it
shouldn’t matter.
 
Not to me.

I shrugged again, watching the night sky speed by as George drove on.
 
“No.
 
I was only curious, that’s all.”

“Well, remember we’re doing this for no other reason than to get something in return.
 
Be sure to keep that in mind the next time you’re
curious
about my personal affairs.”

Ouch.
 
Point taken.
 
This was just sex, nothing more.
 
We would have our fun for a while and then move on.
 
No feelings involved, just the way I liked it.
 
A rush of sadness stirred within me, and I immediately squashed it away.
 
I had never longed for anything, or anyone, in my life, and I wouldn’t start now.
 
Especially not for a man who only wanted me for his amusement.
 
I sighed and wondered if the expression on his face matched the cold tone in his voice, but I didn’t spin back to him to find out.
 
Moments later, I felt him give my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
 
Was the unexpected gesture a form of apology?
 
I was tired of trying to figure him out.
 
Closing my eyes, I pretended to sleep and hoped that George would reach our mysterious destination soon.