The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (42 page)

Their plan had been perfect.
 
They’d forced me to open up my eyes and face reality.
 
I was no better than guys like Mitch.
 
At least Mitch was lighthearted and fun-loving, and he’d never hurt anyone with his free-wheeling lifestyle.
 
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing.

I remembered Jack—or Jack the Wimp, as I used to call him.
 
He told me he was in love with me one night after we’d had sex.
 
So I got dressed, mumbled something about having work to do, and scooted out of his place.
 
I didn’t take his calls for days.
 
One day, I decided to meet up with him to tell him our affair was over.
 
The man was distraught, almost in tears, and I just sat there, impassive, glancing down at my watch and wishing I was anywhere but there.
 
Jack had been an all-around nice guy.
 
He wasn’t interested in a casual fling and had hoped our relationship would grow into something more meaningful over time.
 
I knew this because he’d told me.
 

“Jeremy didn’t mean anything bad by it, Marjorie,” Seton broke the silence, his voice gentler now.
 
“He only wanted to help you.
 
He was worried about you.
 
He cares about you.
 
You’re like a kid sister to him.
 
In fact”—he laughed—“he set me aside at Samantha Minou’s party and told me that if I ever did anything to hurt you, or did anything beyond what he and I had agreed to, I would never be able to have sex again, because he would emasculate me with an axe and then feed my dick and balls to his mother’s dogs.”

I gasped.
 
“He said that?”

He laughed again.
 
“Yes.
 
Word for word.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
 
Well, there was that, I supposed.
 
I knew Jeremy loved me like a sister, and I loved him like a brother, but that gave him no right to interfere with my life in such a sneaky, roundabout way.
 
But no matter how betrayed I felt, or how pissed off I was, there was a part of me that was touched by his obvious deep affection for me, that he’d go out of his way to help me become a better person for no one’s sake other than my own.
 
Still, he didn’t deserve to get off easily.
 
His meddling ways wouldn’t go unpunished.
 
Not this time.

I sat back on my heels and narrowed my eyes at Seton.
 
“Do Quinn and Dana know about this?”

He stared at me, not smiling now.
 
“No.
 
They’re in no way involved.
 
My sister and I decided to play a practical joke on you that day we caught you having lunch outside.
 
We often do that, play pranks at unsuspecting people.
 
Nothing personal.”

“Were you trying to make me jealous?”

A small smile touched his features.
 
“Maybe.”

I sat on the edge of the seat and sighed.
 
I felt like I was trapped inside an Agatha Christie mystery.
 
“There’s something I don’t quite understand,” I croaked.

Seton frowned.
 
“What’s that?”

“You explained Jeremy’s motives, but what were yours?
 
I mean, you did it because Jeremy told you to?
 
That sure as hell doesn’t sound like you!”

He gazed at me, green eyes darkening with an unreadable and unidentifiable expression.
 
Then he set his drink on top of the coffee table and walked toward me, his face totally blank.
 
Standing in front of me, he put his arms on my shoulders and gave me a gentle squeeze.
 

“Come now, Marjorie,” he said softly.
 
“Forget about it all.
 
There was no ill intent in all of this, not from Jeremy anyway.
 
His only crime, if you can call it that, is matchmaking.”
 
He crouched in front of me and tipped my chin, forcing me to look at him.
 
His eyes slid over my coat, then traveled back to my face.
 
Though his expression remained neutral, the surge of his desire swept through me like waves.
 
“Take your coat off.”

“But—”

“No,” he cut me off, voice suddenly harsh.
 
“Interrogation time is over.
 
Now do as you’re told.”

What a one-track mind the man had.
 
“You’ve averted my question.”

“What question?”

“I asked what your motives were.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it.
 
Then he looked at me in silence for a few heartbeats, as if mulling over his answer.
 
“I already told you.
 
You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

I frowned at him, confused.
 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask
you
, now that I think about it,” he said icily, straightening up in front of me, his hands now buried in his pant pockets.
 
“Have you only been after my manuscript?
 
Was that the only reason why you’ve afforded me the pleasure of taking that delectable body of yours?”

The cold air from the air conditioner was seeping through my bones, making my skin prickle.
 
I crossed my arms over my chest to suppress a shiver.
 
I opened my mouth to answer, even though my heart seemed lodged somewhere in the vicinity of my throat and talking had suddenly become difficult.
 
I was about to drink more wine when I stopped.
 
I didn’t think the warm liquid would get past my constricted throat.
 

“No,” I managed to croak.
 
“I—I let you believe that about me, but the truth…the truth is that I…I wanted you.”
 
Heat flowed up my neck and into my cheeks.
 
I glanced down at the drink in my hand to hide the blush.
 
“I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you.
 
Your imposing, dominant nature intrigued me so much that I couldn’t wait to see how you were like in…in bed.”
 
Then I told him more, the closest to a love confession as I would get.
 
“I think you’re very attractive, Seton, and I always look forward to spending time with you.”

I swallowed hard and glanced up at Seton.
 
His gaze met mine, eyes a set of emerald stones, his face remote and expressionless.
 
“Is that the truth?”

I nodded.
 

Seton said nothing for a few moments, just stood there with that impassive look on his face.
 
Then something shimmered in his eyes, a look that closely resembled remorse.
 
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I could’ve sworn you already knew I was attracted to you,” I said earnestly.
 
“Didn’t it show in my eyes?
 
My body language?”

“Yes.
 
I knew you wanted me, but then I brought up the arrangement and the possibility of handing you my next book and…I thought that had been your main motivation.”
 
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and winced.
 
“It was the perfect excuse, it made me less guilty whenever I—”
 
He paused, a pained expression passing over his features.
 
“You should’ve said something, Marjorie.
 
Should’ve thrown a hint my way.
 
Anything.”

I shrugged.
 
“Why?
 
Would it have made a difference?
 
Would it have stopped you from teaching me your little lesson?”

“No.
 
But things might have been different between us.
 
I wouldn’t have done…certain things.”

His features softened, tension leaving his body, and I realized that he’d been bracing himself for an unpleasant answer.
 
His reaction warmed places deep inside.
 
It appeared that Seton wasn’t made of stone after all.

“Very well,” he said, flatness glossing over his features.
 
“Thank you for answering.
 
I appreciate your honesty.
 
Now”—he reached out and traced his knuckles softly over my cheek—“let us move on to more important matters.
 
Take your coat off.
 
Then go upstairs and lie on the bed.”
 

I frowned at him.
 
Had I just imagined the whole vulnerability thing?
 

“Come now, my pet.
 
This is what I’ve wanted since we got here, but there’s been a slight change of plans.”
 
An enigmatic smile tugged his lips.
 
“I’m about to teach you a lesson that you won’t soon forget.”

My jaw dropped.
 
There was no other way to react.
 
Then I drew in a breath, incensed.
 
Teach me a lesson?
 
Teach
me
a lesson?
 
Another lesson?
 
He had some fucking nerve!
 
He had just told me that this was all a setup, that he and Jeremy had been playing me for a fool, and now he expected me to continue to follow his orders as if nothing had happened?
 
And he’d planned to teach me a lesson—another one—on top of everything else?
 
Was he out of his friggin’ mind?

“Go upstairs,” he insisted.
 
“Now.
 
Do as I say, Marjorie, or else—”

“Or else what?” I asked defiantly.

“Or else I’ll punish you.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?” I said, digging my nails into my palms, suddenly furious.

His jaw tightened.
 
“Do you remember the spanking you received over at your toy boy’s house, darling?” he said darkly.
 
“Do you want me to make it ten times worse than that?”

I couldn’t see my face, but I felt myself going pale.

“I didn’t think so,” Seton countered arrogantly.
 
“Now get up, take your coat off and move along.”

           
Sighing, I gulped down what remained of my wine, set the glass on the coffee table, then pushed to my feet, unbuttoning the raincoat.
 
Slowly, I revealed one naked shoulder, then the other, and stripped off the coat until it slipped to the floor.
 
I stood naked before Seton, my expression so full of venom it would have frightened anyone.
 
But Seton just stood there, observing the depths of my disdain with a strange, unreadable look.
 

“Go upstairs,” he said broodingly.
 
“Take off your shoes and then lie down on your back.”

I gave him a sarcastic little curtsy before I strode toward the stairs.
 
I glanced at him over my shoulder as I turned on the landing.
 
He glowered at me for several heartbeats, his eyes dark and morose, then heat glimmered through them when his gaze moved slowly down my body, his angry glint turning to one of lust.
 
The passion blazing in his eyes stirred an answering fire deep within me, melting away some of my own anger.
 
Arousal exploded inside, fanning through every corner of my body in stormy waves.
 
I clenched my fist against the banister and rushed up the stairs, hating myself for loving him and wanting him so much.

           
“And keep your eyes closed whilst in bed,” he called out from downstairs.

           
I kicked off my shoes and crawled into the bed, scanning Seton’s bedroom.
 
I had been there a couple of times before, and I’d always enjoyed its sexy, masculine ambiance, with its subdued lighting, hard-wood floors and cherry wood furniture.
 
Seton seemed to like cherry wood—it was all over the house.
 
The bed was a large four-poster with—you’ve guessed it!—a cherry-wood headboard.
 
There was a large mahogany Queen Anne wingchair in the far corner of the room, a small table with a lamp and some books set right next to it.
 
I’d always pictured Seton sitting there, reading a book, all nice and relaxed after a big day at the gallery.