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“I have to admit, I ended up falling for the guy, and I quite enjoy the arrangement if I’m perfectly honest. I’m not sure I’ll stop seeing him even after I graduate.” Well, I might be fudging it a bit. I know I have stronger feelings for Ilya than I’m willing to entertain, and I can’t see myself telling him we’re done–ever if I’m being perfectly honest with myself. But that doesn’t take into account the fact that he’ll probably let me go at that point. He already warned me from the start that these arrangements of his don’t last more than a few years. Three might even be a stretch. Still, that’s not what Anya needs to hear right now.
“Really?” Her shocked tone holds a hint of hope that makes me think I’m doing the right thing, even if I’m embellishing the truth a little.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and give her a squeeze. It’s nice to feel she actually does have some strength to hold her head up high. “Sometimes it can be fun to share someone’s dark desires. Once I found my peace with the arrangement, I realized it could be quite pleasurable.” And there I go under-exaggerating now. Instantaneous, explosive pleasure would be more accurate, even while I was scared shitless and losing my virginity.
Anya blushes deeply, and I wonder if that means she’s felt pleasure with Nicolo and is too ashamed to accept it or if she’s uncomfortable because the dick hasn’t even tried to give her pleasure. I wish there were some way I could reassure her that sex can be fun, even if it’s kinky. I wish I could show her that it’s alright to enjoy it as long as she’s already accepted the forbidden fruit. Then it hits me.
“I don’t normally offer this kind of thing,” I start carefully, hoping she won’t think this is weird as fuck. “But I’m worried about you, Anya, and I want you to be okay, so… would you like to come with me to a club sometime to watch us role play? That’s kind of what it is, after all. It might help you feel more comfortable with the whole thing, to see what a healthy arrangement would look like.”
Rather than immediate disgust or judgment at my offer, Anya actually seems to consider it so I continue, trying to find words that might comfort her. “Nicolo seems like the kind of guy who finds the fight more interesting than the sex. Maybe if you find your peace with it, Nicolo will lose interest and move on. Then you could find someone kinder, someone who will treat you better.”
She studies me carefully, searching for something in my expression. “If you’re sure, I might really appreciate that,” she says and immediately turns a deep shade of puce.
“Done.” I give her shoulders another squeeze before letting go. “Let me talk to him today, and we’ll find a time this week.”
“Thank you, Whitney,” Anya murmurs. “Not just for that, but for being such a good friend. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Stopping in front of the bus stop, I turn to meet her eyes. “Fortunately for you, we’ll never have to find out, because you’re stuck with me, friend. I’m grateful to have another real person in this school full of trust-fund prima donnas.” The familiar honk of Ilya’s car horn diverts my attention, and I release a giddy squeak before I have time to think about it. I’m already heading toward the car before I realize I didn’t say goodbye. “See you tomorrow!” I call over my shoulder.
“Who’s that?” Ilya asks as I slide into the passenger seat of his lamborghini.
“That,” I say warmly. “Is the transfer student I’ve told you about. Anya.”
Ilya studies her momentarily before shifting his gaze to me. “What were you two talking about?”
“Well, she was offered an… arrangement not too long ago–like ours, kind of. But I don’t think her benefactor really knows what he’s doing with her. I think he’s… well, he’s not like you,” I say delicately, not wanting to presume too much when Anya hasn’t really told me all the details.
Ilya’s eyebrow rises questioningly, silently asking me what I mean by that.
“I think Anya might be his first pet, and he hasn’t been as understanding about her… inexperience?” God I’m bad at trying to be delicate. “Look, the guy’s kind of a dick, and I’m worried that he’s pushing her too hard, too fast. So I was wondering… I washopingyou might be willing to help her.”
Ilya’s eyebrows rise in surprise, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. “Help her how?”
“I thought if she could watch one of our scenes, she might be able to see that kinky can be fun. Maybe it could help her relax and learn to enjoy it more. I mean, it might even be fun to introduce a third-person observer to one of our scenes,” I add quickly. “I just think Anya’s struggling with the whole dynamic, and I want her to feel comfortable the way you made me feel comfortable.”
Ilya studies me for a moment, the corners of his lips curling upward slightly. “Alright. Set it up. I’ll come up with a scene for this Saturday.”
“Really?” I lean across the car’s console and press a fierce kiss to Ilya’s lips.
He stills momentarily at the unexpected assault before responding in kind, kissing me breathless before releasing me and putting the car in gear.
22
ILYA
Intrigued by Whitney’s concern for her friend and her request for my help, I like knowing that Whitney feels like she can turn to me about it. I’ve always wondered if she might not be self-conscious about our difference in age, wishing she could be with someone closer to her own age, but perhaps my understanding of how to ease someone into the BDSM world bridged any initial discomfort she might have felt about it.
I like the challenge of introducing a third person to one of our scenes, though I’ve never considered it before. Whitney is interesting enough that I’ve never felt the need to add another person. She keeps my hands full in the best of ways. But tonight will be different. I’ve only tweaked the script slightly. I know better than to touch another man’s pet, and considering what Whitney said about Anya’s man, I’m guessing he must be related to the Italian mafia somehow. Perhaps the son of a captain. But still, I want to help Anya get a feel for role play so she might be more comfortable with this benefactor of hers.
As we sit at a high-top table at Incognito, waiting for Whitney’s friend to show up, I’m intensely aware of the way Whitney’s body vibrates beneath my arm resting around her waist.
“Nervous?” I tease lightly.
Whitney snorts. “You wish. I just hope it doesn’t totally freak her out.”
“Do you trust me?” I ask, meeting her eyes steadily.
“Yes,” Whitney breathes.
