The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (52 page)

           
He studied me with a determined, you’re-gonna-hear-it-whether-you-want-to-or-not expression, and sat back in the chair, making himself comfortable.
 
“David is a great guy,” he began, ignoring my glare.
 
“Well, at any rate, he’s a pretty decent guy.
 
He ain’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he ain’t bad either.
 
I remember one night three years ago.
 
I was visiting an old flame of mine in London when Dave invited me out for a drink or eight, and talked to me about this woman he’d just broken up with.
 
He was doing the guy thing—telling me she hadn’t been all that hot, that she was too boring and compliant for his taste, that kind of thing.
 
But then he looked at me with those gorgeous green eyes of his and told me that he was tired of playing the field and longed for a stable relationship with a submissive girl fiery enough to challenge him in life as well as in the bedroom.
 
It wasn’t fun for him if the woman was ‘easily breakable,’ as he put it.
 
He wanted an independent woman with submissive tendencies, not a lapdog.”

           
I opened my mouth to say something, but Jeremy cut me off.
 
“Please, just let me continue.”

Sighing, I walked over to the bed and jumped back on it.
 
Jeremy flashed me a grateful smile.

           
“In case you’re wondering, Margie, yes, that was when I realized that the two of you would be perfect for each other, and I talked his ear off about you.
 
I remember you told me you fantasized about bondage and rough sex—”

“You mean the confessions you wiggled out of me while I was drunk?”

“Yes,” he responded, blushing a little.
 
“Anyway, I remember what you told me and put two and two together.
 
That’s one of the main reasons why I encouraged David to move to Northampton, so that he could meet you.
 
But I’m sure David has already explained all of that stuff to you.
 
So, anyway, that same night David told me about his mother and what she did to him when he was a kid.”

           
His tone suggested that something terrible had happened between them, and I was too curious to feign indifference.
 
I hesitated for a few heartbeats though, not wanting to seem too eager.
 
Not that I was, mind you, but something interesting might be revealed.
 
Besides, Seton knew everything about me—it only seemed fair that I knew a little more about him.
 
Crossing my legs together and tucking my feet underneath me, I spun to Jeremy and motioned him to continue.

           
He sighed deeply and scrubbed a hand through his short dark hair.
 
“He was pretty hammered that night, so I don’t think he remembers telling me those things.
 
Promise me you won’t tell him I told you, okay?”

I raised an eyebrow.
 
“This coming from the very man who shared all of my secrets with someone else.”

Jeremy winced.
 
“Point taken.”
 

“You got him drunk too, huh?”
 
I shook my head.
 
“Man, you should come with a warning label.
 
No one is safe around you.”

He took a deep breath and stared into the distance, ignoring my biting remark.
 
“David was fourteen years old when his parents were having marriage problems.
 
His mother had been expecting her third child, and David was excited, deliriously so, by the idea of having a baby brother or sister.
 
He thought a baby would save his parents’ marriage.
 
But it all changed one day, and his obstinate nature was presumably to blame.
 
David has always been a control freak, has never liked to be told what to do.
 
I pity the idiot who tries to defy
him
.”
 
Jeremy snorted to himself and gazed into space.
 
“One day, he was arguing with his mother.
 
He wanted to go out with friends, but she wouldn’t let him.
 
He was very young, but already very rebellious and set in his ways.
 
They were at the staircase, and she was blocking the entry, stopping him from leaving the house.
 
Suddenly, she lost her balance and fell down the stairs.
 
She was seven months pregnant, and the fall could have been fatal.
 
It was touch and go for a while.
 
She lost the baby though.
 
It was going to be a boy.”

A sullen silence filled the room.
 
I closed my eyes briefly, but no matter how much I tried to prevent it, pain still rose.
 
Even though I hadn’t heard this story before, I knew what was coming next.

“David was overcome with guilt,” Jeremy said, voice somber.
 
“That baby was going to be their salvation, or so he thought.
 
His mother almost died, and he hated himself for it.
 
The whole thing with the baby had been an unfortunate accident, but David felt responsible—that it wouldn’t have happened had he obeyed his mother—and Mrs. Seton took full advantage of that.
 
She’s guilt-tripped him throughout his life, turned him into her personal slave.
 
She’s never mentioned the actual accident, but she’s always thrown not-so-subtle hints his way.
 
That’s how she controls and manipulates him.
 
David saw through her schemes from the very beginning, but he helped the old hag out anyway.
 
Mrs. Seton lives like a queen at a large country estate in the outskirts of London and owns several more lands across Britain.
 
Guess who’s made it all happen?”

I swallowed hard.
 
“What about his father?”

“His parents divorced a few months after the accident.
 
Mr. Seton still lives in Blackpool, where they’re originally from.
 
David bought him a modest house in a quiet neighborhood and the old man is content with that.”

“And his twin sister?”

“I don’t know Dana all that well, but I’ve heard that she’s a great woman.
 
David adores her, talks about her constantly.
 
She’s an accomplished art dealer, owns several galleries in London, all of which she’s purchased with her own money.
 
She was attending a private boarding school when the baby thing happened, so it hadn’t affected her the way it had affected David.
 
She was the woman we saw outside Cajun Catfish.
 
Remember?”

“Yeah.
 
I met her briefly while she was in town.”
 

He grinned.
 
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?
 
I’ve heard that she looks just like her mother—same blonde hair, same delicate features.
 
David got his dark looks from his father.”

“What about their eyes?”

“The shape and color of their eyes came from their mother, I believe.”
 
He sighed.
 
“David certainly has a ‘type’ when it comes to women.
 
In addition to being submissive, she also has to be a brunette.
 
He’s been with a few redheads too, and had a thing for dark-skinned girls for a while.
 
Blondes were few and far between for him.”

“I see.”

I stared at Jeremy, crossing my arms tighter over my chest to ward off a chill as the severity of his words sank in.
 
Seton’s mother had tried to strip her son away from the most vital, most essential part of him—his power and control.
 
She had taken a sad, awful tragedy and used it to manipulate him.
 
A shiver ran down my spine as I thought back on the plots in Seton’s books.

There was
Married
and, of course,
Madeleine
—two stories centered on coldhearted, self-absorbed women who treated men like garbage.
 
Then there was
The Inmate
, Seton’s first novel, a story about a convicted serial killer-slash-rapist who falls for a rather strange woman who visits him and listens to him, offering love, support and companionship.
 
What the killer doesn’t know is that the woman feeds on his murderous instinct with subtle mind games.
 
She drives him all the more insane as he’s locked up in prison, unable to fulfill his bloodlust.
 
(The novel was optioned last year by a major film production company.
 
Last I heard, the film project was still in pre-production.)
 
There was also
Jailbait
, his second novel about a fifteen-year-old Oxford prodigy who seduces her fifty-year-old English lecturer.
 
The girl is disturbingly mature and clever for her age, whereas the professor is depicted as shy, naïve and idealistic.
 
The age role reversal is both brilliant and unsettling at the same time.
 
Jailbait
was Seton’s most controversial novel to date, one that garnered mixed reviews and reactions from both critics and readers.
 
Readers had no idea what to make of it, and book critics were lost for words.
 
In the end, they said
Jailbait
was “
Lolita
in steroids.”

Evidently, Seton’s stories stemmed from his early home life and his rather twisted relationship with his mother.
 
Psychological torture was the main theme in his books, with very unsympathetic female characters as leads.
 
I bet he put all women under the same category.
 
He probably hated women and used them only for sex, then tossed them aside as if they were nothing more than…

Oh.

“You think Seton and I share a similar aversion to intimacy,” I muttered tonelessly to Jeremy.

He gave me a triumphant, condescending look.
 
“By jove, I think she’s got it!” he says loudly, throwing his hands up in the air in mock relief.
 
“You caught on quick this time, Margie girl.”

Not quick enough, by my measure.
 
It had taken me entirely too long to realize that Jeremy—big meddler that he was—was in a matchmaking expedition.
 
My hands clenched, and it was all I could do to resist the urge to smack the smug look off his bruised face.

“David, like you, had a difficult childhood, which is why the two of you have had commitment issues,” he carried on.
 
“You have no idea how many women David screwed in one month.
 
He always found something wrong with them, and dumped them shortly after sleeping with them.
 
But he eventually got tired of that lonely, reckless lifestyle, and has taken the necessary steps to break that pattern—first by severing all contact with his mother, and then by meeting you, getting to know you and falling in love with you.
 
I have succeeded in helping him, and I hope I succeed in helping you.
 
That is, if you’re not too stupid to run away like a friggin’ coward again.
 
Because you are a coward Margie.”

I uncrossed my arms and clenched my fists all the tighter, trying control the anger seeping its way into my system.
 
Have I mentioned that I detest being talked about behind my back?
 
It was his admission that he and Seton had been discussing me—coupled with the verbal attack—that prompted me to get really nasty.

“Jer,” I uttered in a low, threatening voice, “if I hear more Freudian psychobabble from you, I swear I will scream.
 
You have a degree in English, not in psychology.
 
So Seton’s got mommy issues.
 
Big deal.
 
Does that give him the right to treat me like dirt?”

Though his face hadn’t lost its smug expression, I could see the annoyance glinting in his brown eyes.
 
“Damn it, Marjorie!
 
No one’s saying he had a right to do what he did—I was merely trying to help you understand David a little better, that’s all.
 
Maybe if you understood him, you would—”

“What?
 
Forgive him?” I cut in, my voice starting to rise with the anger that swamped me.
 
“So that I—the shallow, self-absorbed, coldhearted bitch—would forgive the misunderstood hero with the horrible past and tortured soul?”
 
A grim smile curved my mouth as I shot him a disdainful look.
 
“Sorry, Jeremy, I may read romance novels, but I don’t believe in them.
 
I don’t believe in love and never will, so you might as well give up on me.”