Enamored (8 page)

He rubbed his shaved head, a hint of his tattooed wrist showing past his cufflinks. That was when she noticed his other hand held a small black bag. Hmm.

“Speaking of naked, we don’t have a lot of time, and we have something we need to do.” He took her hand and she followed him down the hallway until they reached one of the many guest bedrooms.

“Are we going to have sex?” she asked, looking at the bag. Condoms? Sex toy?

“If I wanted to, yes,” he smiled. “But this isn’t a guessing game and there’s not nearly enough time for that.” He closed the door behind him and locked it.

“How do you want me?”

He looked around the room. “Brace yourself on that chair. I’m going to paddle you, and it’s your job not to make a sound. I don’t want to ruin your makeup by gagging you.”

She didn’t answer, just leaned over the chair and held on. She’d been spanked, and had felt a paddle a few times as an experiment. There was a huge difference in the pain factor. A paddle, wielded forcefully, could bruise or even blister your ass almost immediately.

Marc lifted a thick wooden paddle out of the bag and set the bag down. “No sounds. This will hurt, because it’s meant to hurt. It’s not a punishment, it’s a reminder. Every time you sit down, or brush up against someone, you’ll remember that you are my submissive tonight.”

“All right.” The thought appealed to her. She’d need a constant reminder if she was going to stay submissive in a crowd of people she was used to playing the Domme around.

He lifted the back of her dress carefully until she felt air on her bare ass.

“No noise,” he reminded her, and brought the paddle down so hard she jumped, kicking her foot up in surprise.

“Stay in place. Every time you move like that I’m adding another lick.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smacked her with the paddle again, and she struggled to contain her whimper and to stay still. Damn, that fucking hurt like a bitch. He wasn’t playing around. Marc must really want her to have a sore bottom for tonight.

“That’s good, baby,” he said. “Again.” And so it continued. Even as the pain grew to a point where she couldn’t imagine taking one more lick, her pussy became wet with arousal.

He dropped the paddle and dropped to his knees behind her, kissing her inflamed, burning skin. “You’re not going to sit comfortably for a week,” he said, the satisfaction in his voice obvious.

When she didn’t answer—because she couldn’t, she was still reeling from the endorphin rush of the paddling—he stood and hugged her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Wish we could fuck.”

He laughed. “Well, we can’t do that just yet, but I do have something else in mind to help you remember who you belong to tonight.”

She looked down at the black bag and sure enough, he pulled a toy out of it.

A short silicone butt-plug, with two silver chains attached to either side of the flared base.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” he asked, lubing up the plug.

How embarrassing. “No, I already went.” Oh my God. Having bathroom conversations like an old married couple. So weird.

“Good.” He bent her back over and slowly inserted the plug into her asshole. Lauren gasped as the erotic pain of the toy pushing past her asshole flowed through her. Once it was in fully, it didn’t hurt, it just felt . . . full. Like she had something up her ass, which she did. So that made sense.

Marc kneeled again and took the thin silver chains, bringing them around her waist, and clicked a tiny lock into place. Only Marc could kneel before her and not make her feel like she was dominant over him. No, she was feeling quite submissive at the moment, and feeling very . . . his.

“This will make sure the plug doesn’t come out until I want it to,” he said. “You’ll have to request permission for the key if you need to use the ladies’ room during the reception.”

Lauren blushed. “Please. Let’s not talk about bodily functions.”

Marc laughed. “Maybe I’ll give you an enema one day, since this is so obviously a hot-button issue for you.”

She looked at him in horror. “Hard limit!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “How do you feel?”

With the dress settled back down in place, the plug was unnoticeable to anyone but her. But every move she made, it shifted inside her, and as he had promised, her ass cheeks were still on fire and sore down to the muscle from the paddling.

“I feel like it won’t be difficult to remember I’m the submissive one tonight, sir,” she said, and she meant it. “You really did a number on my ass.”

“I do my best,” he said, and held out his arm to escort her downstairs to the wedding. “Try not to wince when you sit down, though. Play it cool.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her pussy felt empty, needy, as if they’d just had a major foreplay session with no orgasm to follow. “You’ve given me blue-clit,” she whispered as they descended the grand staircase together. She walked slowly in her heels, the plug pressing into her with each step.

“Is that anything like blue-balls?”

“Yup.”

“Then we’re in the same place,” Marc said. “So, can I kiss you or will that ruin the makeup?”

“Julian gave me gloss for touch ups. Not that it matters.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Marc stopped at the bottom of the stairs with her and kissed her gently on the lips before they went outside for the photos and the wedding.

A hard spanking, a gentle kiss . . . Marc was an incredible Dom. She’d always seen that in him, in the way he scened with other girls, but he’d only been her friend.

It wasn’t too long ago that she and Marc were playing tag in Times Square, killing time until the club opened so they could each go play with other subs. God knows he had plenty of girls to choose from, almost as many as the men who dropped to their knees at the mere sight of her entering, in the hopes that she’d choose them to play with.

She remembered the exhilaration she’d felt when she’d run from Marc, the glint in his eyes as he chased her around and, inevitably, caught her, his strong hands coming down on her, half-hugging, half-tagging her.

Yeah. Lauren liked when Marc caught her.

He’d certainly caught her now.

Chapter Five

M
arc stood next to Roman and Trevor’s brother-in-law at the end of the wedding aisle on the dais. Every chair on the lawn was filled, and an unbelievable symphony orchestra—flown in from London—played softly in the background. Apparently Yo-Yo Ma was booked up.

Trevor looked over at Marc and grinned. He looked happy, more than happy, even. Then the music changed to the traditional “Here Comes the Bride”—or whatever the actual composition was called—and Elisabeth appeared, walked down the aisle by Trevor’s father, since she had none of her own. While Elisabeth had no family at the event, she seemed to glow with joy as she walked slowly down the aisle, watching Trevor with each step. Around her neck she wore a gold necklace that only those who knew the couple intimately would recognize as her collar.

“Oh my God,” he heard Trevor murmur, wonderment filling his voice as he saw his bride. Marc had to admit, she looked gorgeous.

He glanced over to the front row where Lauren sat. She didn’t wince as she folded her legs, removing pressure from one ass cheek to the other, but it turned Marc on just knowing that she had to be thinking of him with every moment she sat on her freshly-paddled ass.

The pastor clicked on the tiny microphone on his suit as Elisabeth reached the altar.

“Thank you for joining us here today, on the day that Trevor Brooks and Elisabeth Anderson become united as one under God,” he intoned, and Trevor and Elisabeth passed a secret look between them, their eyes twinkling.

Marc had an idea of what they were thinking—that their collaring was when they first became one. Would he ever have that for himself? Probably not—well, not with Lauren, anyway. She really wasn’t the collaring type. He grinned, surprised that the knowledge didn’t bother him.

So far it seemed Lauren was more focused on not injuring their friendship than on letting go and having fun. If he could really turn her on while she played his sub, make her truly feel it, then maybe that could change . . .

Marc caught her eye and winked at her, unable to help himself. God, she looked fucking amazing in that dress.

Lauren looked over at him and smiled, slowly uncrossing her legs and crossing them again on the other side. It took everything in his willpower to not jump off the dais where they stood and take her back upstairs to finish what they’d started.

Not now. Wedding. Pay attention.

“I’m blessed to have found you,” Trevor was saying, looking deeply into his bride’s eyes. “You’re everything to me.”

Elisabeth smiled, tears glittering in her eyes as the sun set behind them, creating a beautiful halo effect on her long dark hair. “I promise to love, honor, and obey you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but it was picked up by the pastor’s microphone, and those friends invited from WhipperSnapper wiped at their eyes in approval.

Gregory, Elisabeth’s ex-Dom, sat with his collared sub Andrew and held his hand, as if they were repeating the same vows in their minds.

Lauren was smiling and nodding, but was she imagining that someday she’d have a husband who’d say those words to her, or that she’d be saying those words? Honor and obey. Top or bottom, Dom or sub?

What did Lauren really want?

Don’t read into it
, he thought.
She’s just happy that her good friends found happiness.
“Do you, Trevor, take Elisabeth as your wife,” the pastor continued, “to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do.” Trevor’s hand was steady as Elisabeth put the wedding band on his left ring finger, but Elisabeth’s wasn’t. She trembled. Man, that was sweet. Marc reached up to rub his head, but stopped himself just in time.

“And do you, Elisabeth, take Trevor as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and respect, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“You may kiss the bride.”

The crowd stood and erupted into applause as Trevor lifted Elisabeth off her feet and kissed her deeply.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pastor said, “I am proud to be the first to announce Mr. and Mrs. Trevor Brooks.”

Wow. They were really married. Marc laughed and looked over at Roman to share the moment, but Roman didn’t seem to notice anyone but Elisabeth—now Trevor’s wife. And Roman wasn’t smiling.

Fuck. Marc quickly put the smile back on his own face, determined not to let Roman’s issues ruin what should be an awesome day for all of them.

Before he knew it, a receiving line had begun and Trevor and Elisabeth were caught up with kisses and hugs and handshakes and whispered advice about marriage.

Marc gave them each a bear hug. “I’m really happy for you two.”

He turned around to let Roman, who’d been standing at his side only a moment before, have his turn to congratulate the couple. But Roman, Trevor’s best man, was nowhere to be found.

Should he go find Roman or let him sulk it out alone? Times like this he’d always ask Lauren, because she’d know. Things were different now, though. Still, he wasn’t going to let their friendship change just because of the bet. For all he knew, in a week she’d be back to playing Dominatrix at the club and this would all be a strange memory.

He escaped the receiving line and found Lauren. “Hey sexy,” he said, then leaned in and whispered, “How’s your ass?”

“I’ve been told it’s amazing,” she said.

“And how do you feel about that?”

She laughed. “Um, sore? No seriously, it’s good. All good. I think it’s even helping put me in the right frame of mind.”

Marc breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath, awaiting her answer. “Roman’s missing, have you seen him?”

She shrugged, accustomed to Roman’s dramatics. “Not since he was staring woefully at Trevor and Elisabeth, no. But everyone saw that.”

“Awesome.”

“Yeah.” She looked over at the tent, and he could tell she was about to ask him to join her, but she stopped herself. Perhaps because she wanted to actually let him take the lead?

Thank God for paddling
, he thought. She was right, it did help her. “Let’s go grab our table,” he said.

Lauren nodded and took his arm, but he gave her a look and discreetly patted her bruised ass.

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry. I meant to say, ‘anything for you.’ ” She laughed like it was a game, and perhaps it was.

“Come on, do I really sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a dumb jock?” Marc grinned and raised his eyebrows, as if daring her to say yes.

“Um . . . yup!” Lauren flashed him her “can’t catch me” smile and ran toward the tent. He easily caught up and wrapped his arm around her.

Night had fallen and the stars were out in all their glory. Lauren looked up. “We miss this view, living in the city.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have much in the way of city lights, and we have plenty of those,” he said, walking her into the tent. “Should I go find Roman?”

She paused, as if wondering if he was testing her. “Whatever you think is best.”

“No, seriously. I’m asking your advice. Even as my submissive, I’d want your input and advice. I’d just—”

“Be the one who made the final call,” she finished for him.

He rubbed his head. “Does that bother you?”

She smirked. “I can handle anything for a week. And the next bet we make, I’ll make sure you lose, and then we’ll see. Sir.”

“I see your paddling has worn off,” he joked. “Please get me a drink, scotch on the rocks, and meet me at our table. I’m going to find Roman.”

Lauren looked temporarily taken aback by the direct order, but she smiled. “Oh, I’ll get you a drink, all right.”

“Uh-oh. Okay, I’ll stop telling you what to do outside the bedroom. You’re going to spit in my drink now, aren’t you?” he asked, feeling the need to tease her into his good graces again.

She glared at him, trying to contain her smile. “Yes. But don’t worry, alcohol will kill the germs,
sir
.”