The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (13 page)

 
I grimaced in self- disgust at the pathetic turn I had taken in such an alarmingly short period of time.
 
Why did I care so much?
 
Why was I obsessed with a man whom I’d shared only one tryst?
 

It didn’t matter that I barely knew him, didn’t matter that he didn’t want anything to do with me that went beyond the physical.
 
I had no control over what was happening in my mind.
 
I was behaving like a love-struck puppy—or was that a
fuck
-struck puppy?—and there was nothing I could do about it.
 

It wasn’t over between us.
 
It couldn’t be.
 
He had alluded to more encounters in the future.
 
There had to be more.
 
There
would
be more.
 
So, why had he been ignoring me?
 
And why was he seeing someone else?

           
I sat at my desk, staring dolefully at the blank computer screen, wishing I had the mindset to focus on my work, when someone knocked on the door.

           
“Miss Fordham?”
 

           
Rosie tentatively stepped in and gently placed a black glossy carrier bag on top of my desk.
 
“Someone left this at the front desk for you,” she said.
 

           
I stared, stunned, at the glossy bag.
 
It was the same sort of bag Seton had given me at the café four days ago.
 
“Um, did you see who dropped this off?” I asked, trying to calm my now speeding heart.

Rosie shrugged.
 
“It was there when I came back from the bathroom.
 
There was a short note on the desk saying the bag was for you.
 
Why, is something wrong?”

She must’ve noticed my agitation, for she had a concerned look on her face.
 
“No…no, everything’s fine.
 
Thanks for bringing it in.”

When Rosie left, I bounced off my chair and paced the room several times, a big smile creeping over my face.
 
I was suddenly so overcome with energy that I couldn’t stay in one place.
 

Seton sent me a package!
 
He hadn’t forgotten about me!
 
He still wanted me!

I went to my desk and stared at the beautiful glossy bag.
 
It was enormous, almost covered up my entire desk.
 
I debated for a moment over whether to open it now or wait until I got home, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait that long.
 
And so, with a shriek of excitement, I grabbed the bag and dashed into my private bathroom.
 
I needed privacy in case someone walked into my office without knocking, which happened often.

At the counter by the sink, I reached into the bag and pulled out a black cardboard box.
 
There was a note attached to it.
 
I opened the note and read its message.

Marjorie,

I want you to wear all of the items in the bag tonite.
 
I also want you to pull your hair back into a loose knot this time.
 
My driver will pick you up at precisely eight o’clock.
 
Be outside before he arrives.
 

I hope you will follow these simple instructions.
 
I look forward to seeing you.

Yours,

D.J.S.

I smiled at the note.
 
Seton hadn’t forgotten about me at all.
 
How silly I was to imagine things, and only because I hadn’t heard from him for four days!
 
How pathetic was that!
 
Well, I would be patient next time.
 
He had made it clear that this was a business arrangement.
 
We weren’t dating.
 
We weren’t involved in anything other than a mutual agreement centered on the future of our respective careers.
 
From now on, I would not obsess about Seton.
 
I would be as emotionally detached to him as possible, which meant I had to forget about the glamazon he’d been with earlier in the day.
 
His personal life was no concern of mine.
 
As long as our arrangement was still under foot, he could do whatever he pleased with his free time.
 
It was as simple as that.

Now, time to check out the items in the bag.
 
I opened up the box and, removing the tissue paper on top, peered inside.

I slid out and unfolded what appeared to be a black top.
 
On closer inspection, I discovered that the top was actually a corset.
 
The corset was beautiful but strange-looking.
 
The material was coarse—not quite leather, not quite a girdle, but made of some hard material I couldn’t place.
 
It had a Victorian style straight-front S-curve with a black lace trim and frontal tight-lacing.
 
The laces were made of red silk that criss-crossed from top to bottom.
 
I sighed.
 
Seton obviously wanted the corset to be laced very tight.
 
I hoped this would be easier to wear than the black leather dress.
 
I also hoped that, like the black leather dress, I wouldn’t have to wear it for very long.

I looked inside the box to see what else was in there, and found a pair of red silk shorts.
 
They weren’t shorts per se, more like thigh-length pantalets—the sort of underwear that nineteenth century women wore.
 
I studied English literature and history in college and know a little about period clothing, and the pantalets, like the corset, looked to be an almost accurate reproduction of a late Victorian, early Edwardian undergarment.
 
They had silk frills at the ends and a slit at the crotch area for easy access.
 
They were the turn-of-the-century version of a sexy thong.
 
They were beautiful, and the material was very smooth.
 
This must’ve cost Seton a pretty penny.
 
You would not find a piece of fine garment like this at any old store.
 
I wondered where he’d gotten them, and if he had them specially made for me.
 
The idea that he went through all of that trouble for little old me made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
 

I peered inside the box to see what other surprises were in store for me and found a pair of black seam stockings, a garter belt, and a pair of four-inch black high-top, lace-up shoes.
 
The shoes, like the corset and panties, were a reproduction of the late 1800s and early 1900s.
 

To complete the package, Seton had included another nipple chain.
 
This one was much prettier than the last.
 
The clasps had tiny ruby beads attached to them, and the golden chain was full of ruby studs.
 
I smiled as I put the nipple chain and the other items back into the box.
 

I was about to close the box when I noticed something hidden underneath some tissue paper at the bottom.
 
I pulled out the item and stared at it in surprise.
 
I held in my hand a black and red mask.
 
It was a
Papier
-mâché artifact like the ones used at the Mardi Gras in New Orleans or at masquerade balls.
 
It was a beautiful mask, with a black lace trim and red silk laces that matched with the rest of the outfit.
 
I took a deep breath and placed the mask gently on top of the other items.
 
What were we doing tonight?
 
What did Seton have in store for us?

I wanted to try the clothes on, but knew I couldn’t.
 
I’d have to wait until I got home.
 
Smiling, I closed the box and placed it inside the bag.
 
As I ran my fingers lovingly over the glossy bag, I thought about tonight.
 
I was going to be with Seton again.
 
We were going to engage in a fascinating new adventure together.
 
At that precise moment, I didn’t care what happened in the future, or with how many more women Seton was involved with.
 
All that mattered to me was that I was his.
 
At least for another night.

Chapter Five

“Albany?
 
We’re going to Albany?”

Seton nodded as he perched on the other side of the back seat to his Mercedes.
 
He was dressed in full Edwardian finery: frock coat, fitted trousers, waistcoat, pocket watch, cravat—the whole nine yards.
 
The only thing missing was a top hat.
 
He was dressed all in black, save for the crisp white shirt he wore underneath.
 
A pair of round spectacles rested on top of his nose, giving him a refined, slightly foppish look.
 
His hair was combed back neatly, bringing out his smoldering green eyes and chiseled features to full advantage.
 
He looked like a sexier version of the Monopoly guy.

           
“Yes,” he said, adjusting his glasses.
 

“Excuse me if I’m not impressed,” I quipped.
 
“Albany doesn’t spring to mind when you think sexy and fun.
 
Albany doesn’t spring to mind, period.”

“You’ll like the place I’m taking you.
 
It fits your personality down to a tee.”

           
“What sort of place is it?”

           
He raised an eyebrow.
 
“And spoil the surprise?”

           
My eyes darted down to his suit again.
 
“Based on our clothes and the mask you gave me, we’re going to a costume party or something.”

“Or something.”

           
I took several deep breaths and glanced out the window.
 
George curved into a narrow street and sped into the highway, heading for the Massachusetts turnpike.
 
Fighting a wave of nerves, I swept my gaze back to the sexy, elegant man sitting next to me.

His smile just about seared my insides.
 
“Do I meet with your approval?”

           
I realized I was staring at him with my mouth hanging open.
 
I closed it, grasping the car’s door handle as I shifted in my seat.
 
I shrugged and felt my face growing pink.
 
I didn’t deny that I certainly liked what I saw.
 
I couldn’t, not when I was blushing like an idiot.

           
But I wasn’t the only one enjoying a view.
 
His gaze slid down my body, a mix of lust and approval flickering across his face.
 
Then he moved his hand and cupped the outline of an unmistakable erection.

           
“As you can see, Miss Fordham,” he said hoarsely, his fingers rubbing up and down the full length of him, “you meet with my approval too.”

           
I sucked in my breath and cast a quick glance at George, trying to keep my expression neutral.
 
Seton’s body shook with silent laughter.
 
He was clearly enjoying my discomfort.
 
Bastard.

I sighed, adjusting my corset.
 
Amazingly, it didn’t take me as long to tighten the lacings as I had expected.
 
In fact, it wasn’t difficult at all, nor did I feel as if my breath had been driven from my lungs.
 
It was almost as if the corset had been built for my body.
 
And who knew, maybe it had.