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I had to see what happened next, in the story of my… my…
I bit my lip as the correct word floated into my brain.
My training.
“I can’t,” I whispered, looking at the table, at the empty champagne flute. It was true, but I didn’t know why. I wanted it to come from modesty, or maybe from common sense: a sensible, independent Midwestern girl didn’t talk about her underwear with anyone, anywhere—let alone a man she had just met, in a bar. That Christian had watched me have naughty pictures taken while I played with myself… that he had supplied the money to buy my lingerie… that seemed to make it harder, rather than easier.
But something else had come into play, a new motivation that seemed to rise in my chest. Modesty and common sense definitely had an important part to play in my refusal. This other idea, though, seemed like the real reason.
Fuck around and find out.To my distress, I realized I wanted to find out.
“You can, Leah,” Christian said softly. “You’re going to have to.”
I swallowed very hard. I tried to look up at him, but I found I couldn’t even do that, as the heat came and went in distracting little waves, my pulse pounding in my head.
Christian spoke again, his voice quiet but so firm that it made my heart race even faster.
“You can tell me here, or you can tell me when we get back to your apartment. If it’s at your apartment, though, there are going to be consequences.”
The words that sprang into my mind,What the fuck makes you think we’re going back to my apartment?died with the initial ‘Wh’ on my lips as I did look up at him, the shock of what he had said breaking through the mortification that had kept my eyes on the table.
I saw on his face, as if his eyes had cast a spell on me, that he had spoken the truth. I had no choice. I could tell myself that I wanted his money, more of it, in a steady allowance so that I could live the way I wanted. I knew that in reality I needed to see whatconsequencesmeant, as terrifying as the word sounded.
“Last chance,” Christian said, his eyes glittering in the quickly falling darkness. “Tell me about your lingerie, or we’ll go to your place and you’ll learn your lesson for keeping me waiting.”
“What kind of lesson?” I managed to say, in a voice that sounded very weak to my ears.
“The one I decide on,” Christian said, narrowing his eyes a little. “The one you need. If we go to your apartment, and you decide you want to end the date, I’ll still give you a week’s allowance, no arguments and no questions asked.”
I understood, somewhere in a part of my head not flooded with hormones, that I should examine my motivations carefully—that the money probably shouldn’t make me accept his terms. But I knew Selecta had wired my apartment for my security, first and foremost, even if the surveillance also meant that a potential sponsor like Christian might be able to watch me too. I knew I would be safe.
Safe fromhim, yes.
Am I safe frommyself, though?
“Okay,” I whispered.
CHAPTER12
Leah
On the short walk back to my apartment, Christian seemed content to talk about the many things he thought I would enjoy seeing and doing in LA. At first it seemed surreal, as if his words papered over a yawning chasm of fear. Then, halfway through the walk, he put his arm around my waist as he told me about Griffith Observatory, and to my amazement I almost forgot to worry about what kind of scene would unfold once we got through my door.
That lasted all the way until we stood on the threshold, the lock having clicked open when the camera recognized my face. Christian had his hand on my hip, but he moved it to my butt as I started to step forward into the apartment.
I let out a little gasp. I had kissed guys, my last year of high school after I turned eighteen, had had one or two touch my breasts and even put their hands between my legs, over my panties but under my skirt. Christian’s firm, frank cupping of my bottom through the silky fabric of the romper, where my backside had no covering thanks to the lacy thong, felt like the most intimate touch I’d ever received from a man.
I tried, instinctively, to dart away, through the door, but Christian followed, his hand still firmly on my ass. I knew what it meant… I knew he wanted me to think about his intentions, about the consequences of not telling him about my lingerie when he had asked, in the bar. I felt the heat flood into my cheeks, and I felt an even more troubling warmth down below, where I realized to my confusion I didn’t mind having a billionaire’s hand holding me that way—the threat, or really the promise, of discipline notwithstanding.
I turned around and backed away. Christian let me go, and I watched the door of my apartment close behind him. I found that my hands had traveled to my bottom, shielding me there as I gazed into the gorgeous face of the man who intended to punish me… and, I could see in his chocolate eyes, to claim me as his sponsored girl—his kept property.
My eyes had gone wide, and my lips had parted. I swallowed hard.
“You can tell me about your underwear now, Leah,” he said, his voice soft but so steady and firm that it made my heart race. “Or I can take down that romper and see for myself when I spank you. If I do that, I’m afraid I’ll have to spank you harder. From this point forward, disobedience isn’t going to be tolerated.”
My breath went in and out between my lips in ragged pants. I had to say something, but his frightening, degrading words whirled in my mind so fast and so violently that all I could do was repeat, in a whisper, “From this point forward?”
Christian nodded slowly. “I’m taking you in hand, Leah. You can pretend all you want that you don’t need a man’s firm hand to help guide you into a real adult life, but we both know it’s not true. You wouldn’t be here in LA, as an associate member of Selecta Arrangements, if you knew how to get where you’d like to go—and where, by the way, I think you deserve to go.”
