Grievous (Wanted Men Book 5) (14 page)

“But isn’t that the role you want me to play?” She knew she was goading him, but she couldn’t help it. He was starting their day out playing the pompous ass—while spanking hers—and she didn’t like it. His attitude, not the spanking. When he acted like this, she had a hard time remembering why she was so eager to help him.

“If I wanted you as my whore, you would already be set up in a condo overlooking Central Park. When in town, I would drop by twice a week, fill your body with come, and leave a pair of earrings on the nightstand. Sorin would never have spoken to you, my staff would never have seen you, and you sure as hell would not have been welcome at Markus’s service. If you were my whore, you would know your place and your mouth would either be shut or full of my cock.” He entered her private space, as he liked to do. “That must mean I like and respect you.”

Certain aspects of being his whore sounded kind of exciting. “Have you ever kept a woman that way?” she asked even though she knew she wouldn’t like the answer if it was—

“Yes.”

Fuck. Something dark and possessive weaved its way around her heart. “Really.”

“Yes. A few. At the time, an arrangement like that was convenient, but that was long ago.”

“How long ago?”

“More proof that I like my pet; I do not make her sit in the corner as punishment for layering these tiresome questions on me.”

She laid her palm on his thigh. “Will you really make me sit in the corner if I make you mad?”

“Probably not. Though I have imagined you staring at a wall as you wait for me in a submissive pose, your ravishing feet peeking out from beneath your bare ass, mouth quiet. I would bind you before bringing you to bed. Or simply have you right there. We may play that out today. And it has been over four years since I had a mistress.”

Her brain was tripping to keep up. Submissive pose, naked, bound, fucked on the floor. Four years since he’d kept a woman. Why did that hurt to think about? “Have you had a girlfriend in that time?”

“When did you last have a boyfriend, Yasmeen?”

“A couple of years ago.”

“How long were you together?”

“Five months.”

“Were you in love?”

“No.”

“Was he?”

“Not really.”

“In other words, yes. Did he end it or did you?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

That’s where her willingness to answer his questions ended. “I answered you, now you answer me. Have you had a girlfriend in the past few years?”

“No. Why did you end the relationship?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“He was unfaithful.”

“No! He was the nicest guy I’ve ever known.” She defended Chris, a musician she’d dated in college, without thought. “He wouldn’t have messed around on me.”

He sat back slightly. “You were unfaithful.”

Her face burned with shame.

“That is unexpected. And disappointing.”

“I didn’t cheat on him,” she muttered. “I broke up with him before it happened.”

“Before what happened?”

What was she doing? She’d never even told Miranda this story. Had been too humiliated and embarrassed. But she didn’t want Lucian thinking she was a disloyal tramp. A tramp maybe. But not a disloyal one. Ugh.

“There was a professor during my last semester at school. He was handsome and charming, but a dick. His class was overcapacity because of an enrollment error and he called me into his office to tell me I had been one of the last to enroll so I had to go.” She shifted in her seat as the sick feeling she’d gotten sitting in his office came back to her. Her ass cheeks were pulsing with a heat that felt almost good. “He asked why I looked so upset, and told me I could take the next class offered, but that would have kept me in school for another semester, and I couldn’t afford the one I was currently in. As it was, I was there on grants and a scholarship. I needed to finish and get my ass into a job that paid more than peanuts. I had student loans that were already past due and rent and student fees and living expenses.” She shut that down when it sounded as if she was making excuses for herself.

“To make a long story short, after I told him that, he made me an offer. He would backdate my enrollment, and they’d kick someone else out. After I did what he wanted, I’d have secured my place in the class, and I could graduate in a few months as planned.” She pressed her knuckles against her thighs and cracked each one. “I broke up with Chris that afternoon and visited my professor in his office over the next five nights.”

She blinked when Lucian pushed his chair back and got up. She watched him walk out—

A blast of shock smacked her silly when she saw Sorin standing just outside the door. How long had he been there? Had he witnessed her spanking? Oh, fucking hell. Had he heard her share the lowest, most disgraceful moment of her life? She came back around and wished she could melt through the floor. What if Lucian sent her home? What if her behavior disgusted him the way it disgusted her? What if he started treating her like a real whore because she’d just revealed she was willing to be one to get what she wanted?

Rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, she cleared her throat and would have killed to be able to pour herself some juice from the carafe, but she didn’t feel comfortable making herself so at home. She wasn’t really a guest here, she was a pet, and pets weren’t allowed to touch what was on the table. Right?

Shit.
You’re starting to role play, idiot.
She brought her fingertips up to rub at her eyes.

The sound of footsteps preceded Lucian returning. He took up his position again. “You have had few men since then.” In that way of his, he spoke as if there’d been no interruption.

She dropped her hands to her lap without trying to figure him out. “It took me some time to get over what I’d done.”

“You were ashamed.”

Conscious of Sorin less than twenty feet away, she lowered her voice and answered honestly. “Some of the girls I grew up with became prostitutes, and I was always proud of the fact that I didn’t give up and go that route to make a buck. But then I did, only it wasn’t to make money but to save it.” She shrugged. “It’s sad what you’ll do when you feel you have no other choice. It wasn’t until later that I realized I did have other choices. I could have gone deeper into debt, completely destroyed my credit rating, dropped out and tried again when and if I was ever in a position to afford tuition. I was just too tired to do any of it.”

Looking around the room, she wondered if he was ashamed of anything he’d done in his past. “I had enough pride not to have actual sex with him; even when he guaranteed me an A if I did.” Her lip curled. “Such an asshole. I wish I’d known someone like you back then,” she said, forcing a smile to try to lighten the somber atmosphere. “Maybe I could have borrowed one of your goons and they could have slapped him around until he promised never to do that to another girl.”

“You didn’t report him.”

It was funny how he wasn’t asking questions, but making statements as if he already knew the answers. But he couldn’t have because there was no one who knew about this except her and her professor.

“No. I didn’t. I knew there was no point. And, like I said, I was too tired at that point to withstand what would have come with filing a complaint. As a female growing up where I did, you get to know pretty early on that not many people side with our type. A poor girl with no support system, no family, no stable home, attending a school like NYU on grants and a full scholarship. If I’d ratted out an esteemed professor?” She snorted. “Please. They’d have pulled my funding and laughed me off campus before I could blink.”

He placed a hand on her knee and squeezed until she met his eyes. He held that look, feeding her need for the connection she craved. “I, too, wish you had known me back then. I would have gladly taken care of him the same way I took care of that nobody at Markus’s service. Fighting her battles; yet another sign I like my pet.” He leaned in and rubbed his nose against her cheek. His next words didn’t match the affectionate gesture. “Now, we are going to try this again. You will open this beautiful mouth of yours and take what I am offering you in the way of sustenance. Before I stand and feed something into it that has no nutritional value whatsoever.”

Mmm. “Which nobody at Markus’s funeral?”

He ignored her and fixed a fresh plate. He flicked his brows up when the fork was once more at her mouth.

“Tyrant,” she whispered before parting her lips.

♦ ♦ ♦

As was becoming common, frustratingly so, Lucian found himself watching Yasmeen’s emotions play out across her face. The desire that had emanated from her after her mild punishment had settled once more. As suspected, spanking this woman was another of life’s pleasures. The firmness of her flesh under his hand. Her willingness to accept the discipline without protest. His ability to show his displeasure. So satisfying. But none of that compared with feeling her enjoyment of the act. She’d been so aroused her tight little pussy had taken his fingers in with ease, her inner walls fluttering, teasing the hell out of him because it had made him think about how incredible those small pulses would feel on his cock. She was lucky he’d heard Sorin walking down the corridor. Otherwise, he’d have put her on the table and fucked her right then.

As he once more demonstrated his authority by making her wait for her food, the shadows that had writhed in her dark eyes as she’d spoken of her past began to fade.

A question came to him out of nowhere, and he posed it before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his eager mouth.

“Would you be opposed to wearing a collar?”

Her mouth remained open, her glistening tongue taunting him as Lucian watched interest war with a woman’s instinctive need to stand against anything she thought might debase her. He sent the fork in past her full lips, and when she took the food he offered, he was content. He wasn’t sure why he so enjoyed that she allowed him to meet her needs, so he didn’t bother dwelling on it. Just as he hadn’t dwelled on another task now added to his list. When he returned to the U. S., he had to find a particular professor and put him in a body cast.

“I would also purchase a matching leash.” His blood heated as he pictured it.

She chewed and swallowed. “Do you seriously need me to address that? You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all. By collar, I do not mean something black with spikes. And by leash, a dirty leather lead does not interest me. If I were to put anything other than my mouth on your flawless throat—I will have to consider it further before marring its perfection with any item, no matter how valuable—it would be elegant and subtle. As you are. Your lead would be delicate. A fine silver chain perhaps. Or gold, if you prefer.”

“And you would hold the end and drag me along behind you.”

“Or wrap it around my hand and pull down. The tether would allow me to hold you where I want until I was finished using your mouth.”

Her pupils expanded and she shivered hard enough for him to witness it. “Jesus, Lucian,” she breathed as her nipples became two hard points. “Why do I not want to slap your face for that?”

“Because you are coming to accept that you want to please the man who owns you.”

“You don’t own me. I’m lending myself out. I’m staying with you because I want to.”

Was that what she thought? That she had options? He brought her more food, and she took it, but not quietly.

“I can feed myself.”

“I know this.”

“Then why don’t you let me?”

“Because I prefer to do it.”

“May I ask why?”

“You may ask anything you like. The trick is to get your answer.”

He brought more eggs to her just in time to see her lip twitch. His gaze rose the few inches, and their eyes met. Something shifted inside him when he watched the exasperation disappear from her expression as it softened with humor.

He lowered the fork and went in to rub his mouth around that positive emotion. His lips remained closed and barely touched as he drifted around the face that haunted him, the high cheekbones, the long, elegant nose. And finally, that mouth he craved to the point of madness.

“Your beauty is so much more than what most men will ever see.” He kissed her softly before drawing back and lifting the fork again, annoyed with himself over another gesture of affection that was going to make her expect more.

“I wish you’d stop doing that.”

He liked how bright her eyes were now. The confusion in them was a nice touch. The tenderness bordering on sympathy wasn’t. “Doing what?”

“Speaking in a language I don’t understand. It’s very rude.” She opened, chewed, and swallowed before adding, “You’re very rude, but I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from the self-indulgent rich guy you are.”

“Am I self-indulgent, Yasmeen?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He placed his hand on her knee and ran it up in a slow caress. “Yes. You are here. And others are in the city we call home, living their lives. If I were self-indulgent, as you claim, that wouldn’t be the case.” What some might consider a smile pulled at his lips as he allowed his fantasy free reign. “If I were self-indulgent, loved ones would be traveling to Manhattan as we sit here enjoying our breakfast. There would be tears and distressed cries over how something like “this” could have happened.” He could almost hear the helplessness that would fill the streets. “There would not be enough churches, or cemeteries, for that matter, in our great city to accommodate the mass casualties I dream of causing. If I were self-indulgent, you wouldn’t see the color of my skin for the blood coating it.”