Opposition: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (NYC Doms), page 13
“Sort of?” She gives me an I wasn’t born yesterday kinda look.
“Okay, so I’m not really sure what we’re doing.”
“Hmm,” she says with an exaggerated tap to her chin. “Is there smooching?”
“Smooching?” I snort, getting the attention of both Liam and Ben. I shoot them my most winsome, nothing to see here, folks smile and give her a shrug. “Well a little.”
“God,” she whispers. “And um… gotta say. I’m not like super experienced in this area, but that man does not look like he uses drugstore aftershave and takes a cab to work. He looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ or something.”
“Damnit, I know,” I say on a groan. But Liam’s hanging up the phone and turning back to Ben. Bailey’s eyes shoot from me to him and back to me, then she picks up her phone and gives me a pointed look so obvious it’s almost comical.
My phone buzzes with a text from her. I roll my eyes.
Friends with benefits? Did you sleep with him???
I huff out in indignation and text her back. I did not and stop asking details of my sex life. When the hell would I have time to sleep with him?
But it’s a flimsy excuse and I can’t even look at her because hell, I know. I’m gonna sleep with him.
Methinks the lady doth protest too much.
My mouth falls open in shock and I shoot her a glare, but her lips are pressed in a thin line and she’s shaking her head from side to side. I want to smack some sense into the girl with her Shakespearean clichés.
You think too much about sex, I shoot back in reply, giving her what I hope is an effective older-sister glare.
Fine, she texts, and sighs dramatically.
He IS rich, though, right?
Well, yeah. And this conversation is SO over.
I plunk my phone down on the counter to end this conversation, but the little instigator gives me a once-over as if she’s just noticing my clothes.
“Nice clothes,” she says in a whisper. “And a new phone? Girl, you are so holding out on me.”
I sigh. There’s no use denying it any longer. I won’t lie to her, she certainly isn’t going to get the whole truth, but I can at least give her as much as I can.
“We met, and I’m sort of seeing him,” I tell her. “But he isn’t really a boyfriend. I hardly know him, honey. So. Let’s take a look at that geometry,” I tell her. “I have to go really soon, and I can do my best to help you first.”
Looking across the room, she suddenly realizes she needs to cross in front of Liam to get her book. I shake my head and roll my eyes and go get her book.
Ben hoots and pumps his fist into the air, and I sneak a glance over at them. Liam’s got the penny at an angle, pointing to something, and the lightbulb is actually lit up.
I’m not used to him being like this, all normal nice guy, instead of the sadistic millionaire who drew a heart on my hand today and will likely find far more intrusive methods of “giving me a memento” in the future. And I don’t trust Mr. Nice Guy. I’m more used to the man I’m supposed to hate.
I do my best with Bailey’s math, but we’re struggling with one problem when Liam joins us at the counter. “Don’t forget that a negative times a negative equals a positive,” he says, pointing at a mark on the paper.
“Oh, right,” I say. We fix the problem, but I freeze when he bends down and plants the briefest but chaste kiss on my forehead just as the bell rings.
“Not a boyfriend,” Bailey says in a hissed whisper and an exaggerated eye roll when Liam goes to get the door. “Because friends totally look at you like that and kiss your forehead. And look at you like that.”
“Stop it or I’ll tell him you said that,” I threaten, using the only warning I know will work.
Her huge eyes go from me to him and she clamps her mouth shut.
I tell myself her foolish notions have seriously gone to her head, but I want to know what way he looks at me.
No, I don’t.
Yes, I do.
Fucking. Rule. Number. Six.
We eat pizza and laugh at Ben’s story about the Wildlife team that visited his school today and how the mouse got away from the instructor and chaos erupted in the classroom. This is easy and comfortable, and I don’t like that it is. He’s charming them, damnit. This isn’t our normal, and I don’t care about me, but I don’t like the idea of Ben and Bailey getting attached to a guy who won’t be here in a few months. I don’t like it at all.
So, when we’re done eating, I stand and wipe my hands on a napkin. “We need to get going, guys,” I tell them. I can feel the irritation building. How dare he come in here and beguile them like this? “You all set for tonight?”
Liam stands to the side, giving me space to handle getting them settled. Finally, we leave, after I whisper into Bailey’s ear that I’ll fill her in with some details later.
I can’t get out of there fast enough.
No more getting attached to Liam.
Am I telling myself for their sake or mine?
Fourteen
Liam
“Well, you didn’t have to go and charm their socks off,” Cora snaps when we reach the stairs.
“Wait. What?” I ask her. That was the most normal visit I’ve paid to anyone in years. Hell, I enjoyed myself, and now she’s going to turn this around? Oh no, she doesn’t. I have no patience for this bullshit, and she needs to listen to me now. “That’s enough, Cora. We’ll talk in the car.”
“I don’t—”
Out of patience, I give her a silent swat to the rear that silences her and makes her cheeks color pink.
Manuel’s waiting for us and opens the door when we arrive. I help her in, then step into the car behind her, shut the door and wait until we pull away from the curb before I speak.
“There’s no need to chide me,” I tell her. “I went upstairs with you because you were accosted by that bitch, and I visited with your brother and sister. We ate dinner and did homework. What’s so wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” she sputters, and I can tell by the way her voice goes high-pitched and her eyes are too bright that she’s really, truly upset. I’m confused and getting angry at the way she’s looking at me, like I did something wrong. Hell, I’m used to pissing her off when her anger’s justified, but this is ridiculous.
“What’s wrong with that?” she repeats. “They don’t need you swooping in here all gallant and heroic and growing attached to you like you’re some sort of filthy rich fairy godmother—no, sugar daddy—brother or whatever-the-fuck. You can’t solve everything with your money, you know. There are some things that money can’t buy, and the hearts of children who’ve experienced far more devastation and heartache than children ever should are one of them!”
I don’t know if I’m angry or surprised or both. I don’t know if I want to kiss those pouty lips of hers to silence her or take her across my knee for mouthing off and teach her to speak to her dom with respect.
“Excuse me? What the actual fuck are you talking about? I ordered pizza.”
“Oh, let me show you how to do that science experiment,” she mocks. “What kind of pizza do you like?” she flings at me. “Why don’t I—”
Now I’ve truly had enough of this. “Jesus, woman. This is bullshit. You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”
“What’s bullshit?” she tosses back at me. “I’m not playing, Liam. I never should have—”
It’s taking considerable effort not to raise my voice.
“That’s. Enough.” She freezes and looks at me with wide eyes, as if suddenly realizing she’s crossed a line. “You listen to me. I don’t care if you’re insecure about where you live or who you are, and you’re worried about your siblings. I went in there with literally no hidden agenda and actually fucking enjoyed my visit with Bailey and Ben until you flew off the handle.”
She blinks. “You did?”
“I did. I have no siblings. I grew up raised by nannies and in boarding schools with more money than I knew what to do with. I had horses when I was younger and cars when I was older, and a legacy to uphold. You may have been dealt a shit hand in life, but you know what? There are many types of poverty, Cora.”
This time, she says nothing, but she pales a little and seems to shrink in her seat. I’ve got a point to make, and hell, this girl is gonna listen.
“I may have had money, but I had no parents to care for me. I was an arrogant prick who had no friends, and no skills to obtain any. I’ve never had a romantic relationship of any kind, since the only types of interaction I have with women are the type I pay for. So fucking sue me for wanting one night of normal human interaction for Christ’s sake.”
Her eyes grow soulful and sad, as if she held a barrier and now she’s let it drop.
This girl. Christ, what she does to me.
“I—I didn’t know,” she says, “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I say, my anger dwindling when she apologizes. “But one thing you do know, is that I don’t take too kindly to women who’ve agreed to submit to me telling me off for no good reason.”
“Um. I do know that,” she says, nodding, and hell if she isn’t fucking adorable.
“Good,” I tell her, taking in a deep, calming breath, then releasing it again. “We’ll see how haughty you are when you’re belly-down on my bed getting your ass striped with the cane.”
“Right,” she whispers, looking genuinely afraid.
Good.
We pull up outside of Verge and cruise to a stop.
I crook a finger at her. “Come here, Cora.”
She’s responded well to my correction, but this is the first time we’re entering the club as dom and submissive, and I want her in her place. I watch her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, then crawls her way over to me. Her pretty chin fits perfectly in the palm of my hand as I hold her gaze with mine.
“When we walk in there you stay by my side and keep your head down. This is not a night for socializing. I want you alone in my room immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Eyes cast down. I’ll take care of anyone who wants to speak to us. If you behave, I’ll consider allowing you to visit with your friends in the future. But not tonight. Tonight, it’s time we get our roles in order. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
My stomach warms at that, and my cock lengthens. I love when she submits to me.
“Good,” I tell her. “Then maybe after I punish you, we can see about a reward.”
“I’d… like that, sir,” she says. “I… think.”
We exit the car and head to Verge. I watch her closely, and she obeys well, like a good little girl. Eyes cast down, she holds onto my hand and walks by my side. Braxton greets us at the door, looks curiously at Cora, then shoots me a conspiratorial wink.
“Be a good girl tonight, Cora,” he yells down the hall after her and to her credit, she doesn’t respond. Tobias waves from his office, and when we get to the bar area, Travis gives me a chin lift. He looks from me to Cora, then back to me again, and his jaw tightens. I don’t blame him for not trusting me. She’s younger and maybe he thinks she’s naïve. I meet his eyes and nod at him, conveying what he needs to see.
I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her.
He holds my eyes then finally nods and turns away, a silent move to give us privacy.
“Did Travis give you the evil eye?” she asks quietly. “He’s everyone’s brother, you know.”
“I wouldn’t say evil eye, but he definitely was ready to throw down if I hurt you.”
Still keeping her head down, I see the faintest glimmer of a smile. “He’s a good guy.”
My only response is to sweep her hair off her neck and gently wrap my fingers on the bare skin there, collaring her with my hand. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone else. The most beautiful submissive in all of NYC is going with me to my private room. Familiar faces see us pass in the dungeon, but I’m beyond caring.
I want her alone.
Stripped.
Naked.
Waiting.
When we get to the navy door, she begins to tremble, but keeps her composure with deep breaths. I tighten my grip on her hand. I won’t give her any more comfort quite yet. Tonight is about her obedience to me. My dominance over her. And I won’t coddle her.
When we’re done, I’ll give her what she needs. I’ll hold her as long as she wants me to. Wipe away her tears.
And I know before we even begin, there will be tears.
Fifteen
Cora
I don’t usually cower when I’m afraid. I don’t usually tremble like this or lose my conviction, but when the navy door swings open, I can’t bring myself to move. I’m frozen in place like someone’s waved a magic wand at me and commanded I stand still. I try to will myself forward, but I can’t. Suddenly, the reality of my situation hits me like a gust of wind, and I shiver.
“Let’s go, Cora,” he says, his voice hard and commanding. “In.”
But I can’t move.
A sharp crack to my ass makes me gasp like I’m coming up for air, and I quickly find the ability to walk. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” I don’t want to fuck this up. It matters to me that I do this right. He’s paying me amply, and I take pride in a job well done.
Tugging me into the room ahead of him, he shuts the door and locks it, then turns to face me.
I have to trust him. I begin to war within myself.
He could hurt you.
But he’s a long-term member, and Tobias only allows people he trusts here.
He hasn’t hurt you yet and you signed an agreement to this.
Apple. Apple. Apple.
I’m practicing the safeword and I haven’t even stripped out of my clothes yet.
Liam’s walking around the room and I’m not sure what he’s doing, then I realize he’s flicked on some background music and lit a flameless candle. A little ambiance? Pressing a button on a little while machine I haven’t seen before, he dabbles with the settings until the machine produces a light wisp of air, like smoke, and the room soon is filled with scent of sandalwood and vanilla.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
“Just helping you relax,” he says, right before he turns to me. “Sometimes setting the scene can help frame the right sort of mood.”
“I see.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, his collar unfastened, all sophisticated and sexy-disheveled. When he crooks a finger at me, I swallow hard, take a breath, and head to him. His hands anchor on my hips, and he guides me to stand between his knees. In silence, he begins to strip me. First, a gentle tug at the hem of my top, which he lifts over my head and gently tosses to the edge of the bed. I shiver.
“Are you cold, sweetheart?” God, the gentle tone makes my throat get all tingly. It’s disconcerting how he assumes this role as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“No, sir.”
“Good,” he whispers. “And soon, I’ll warm you up anyway.” A soft kiss to my shoulder. My neck. Silky, warm lips on my collarbone then the very top of my breast. I love the feel of his hands spanning my waist, and then lower still, he’s slowly divesting me of every strip of clothing until I’m standing between his legs bared.
“Go to the red glass case next to the sideboard.”
How did I miss this case before? I must’ve been in a sex-induced coma, or maybe this is new, because this case is really freaking scary. I don’t even know what half these things are, but I know their purpose. Paddles, straps, and canes sit on a velvet cushion, as if they’re a display in a gallery, and not spanking implements for impact play at a sex club.
I reach it and look down at them, suddenly feeling both hot and cold at the same time. I wonder what each one feels like and make it my mission to research more heavily. I want to know what I’m facing.
Though his voice is calm, his instruction makes me shiver. “Choose a cane, please.”
I swallow hard. “They’re… the wicked little thin things, aren’t they?”
“They are.”
One looks like it’s wooden and another plastic or… something. “I… don’t know anything about them, sir,” I say. “I’m not really sure which to pick.”
“A cane is a thin, supple, rod-like implement meant to concentrate impact, therefore increasing the severity of a spanking.”
Gah!
“Um. Well, I don’t want to be rude, but I knew that much. I mean, I don’t know which one means…what.”
“You may test them.”
“Test them?” I ask, spinning around to look at him. “Like how?”
A corner of his lips quirks up, though his eyes are still stern. “If you think you can test one on me, you can perish that thought. To test an implement, it helps to tap it on your palm or thigh.”
“Oh. Right,” I say flushing. I lift the edge of the case and remove the stout wooden one. It weighs hardly anything at all and feels wicked in my hand, like a magic wand capable of destruction. I gently close the case and tap the cane it on my palm with a little whoosh. My skin lights with fire and I gasp. Shit. Oh, God. This isn’t going to be fun.
Quickly, I test each one, until he sighs with impatience. “Your time is up.”
There’s no easy choice here. I choose a clear red one with a handle.
“Ah, the acrylic. A fair choice. Now hold the cane in both hands and stand in the corner.”
Oh, lovely. He’s really into drawing this out.
I walk to the corner where he points, dragging the little weapon in my hand, and when I reach the corner, I stand with my nose against it as he instructed, either end of the cane resting in my palms.
The strings of a violin play in the background, the vanilla scent in the air warm and soothing. I swallow hard and finger the edges of the cane, closing my eyes to try to get into the right mindset, but what really is the right mindset?
