Marrying the Master (24 page)

She
picked up her phone with a sigh.

LOLA:
Ben, I’m getting married. You can’t say things like that.

She
waited,
tense and hunched over her stupid phone, not
totally clear on what she was so upset about. She had just lied to a man who
had lied to her to get him to stop—what? Saying nice things to her? Her
head was spinning.

Her
phone buzzed.

BEN:
You’re right, I’m sorry. I want to be friends even if that’s all we are. I love
you.

Lola
didn’t realize she was breathing heavily until she felt Roman’s hand on her
arm. She jerked her head up.

“Are
you all right?” Roman asked. Lola could see that Chance was now distracted by a
new petite sub, and the party around Lola was quickly devolving as people snuck
out in pairs or groups.

“I’m
fine,” she lied. She looked down at her phone.

BEN:
I’m always here, if you ever need me.

She
quickly locked her phone.

Not
even a month ago, Lola had promised herself she’d never need Ben again. It was
wrong to gain comfort from this, and yet she did. She was ashamed. Talking to
Ben to get some kind of reassurance was just too fucked up, and it wasn’t fair—both
to her and to Ben.

She
obviously did not have as good a grip on this situation as she thought.

“Lola.”
Roman’s voice had become stern, a rough timbre with the suggestion of his Dom
voice. Lola reacted to it automatically. Her abs tightened and whole body
anticipated his touch.

Just
his
voice
could rip her out of her
pensive mood and remind her of where she was—and what he was.

My Dom.

“Jesus,”
she muttered.

Roman
smiled, reached his strong arms out, and pulled her back into his lap. She
loved it there, just being close to him, his heat enveloping her, his scent all
over her, his hands on her body. Things felt right so long as she was in
Roman’s arms. It was when she had to leave that the problems started.

“Lola,”
he whispered into her ear, “I have something to ask you.”

Lola
could have sworn that her heart stopped beating entirely for one long, quiet
moment. Then Roman stood up, cradling Lola in his arms, and threaded his way
through the party in the direction of his private apartment, and her heart made
up for it by beating double time.

What does he want?

~ * ~ * ~

Roman
had controlled himself ever since Lola had turned and seen the grief he thought
he felt privately, all through that rehearsal dinner, all through Chance’s
sudden arrival.

Now
he was done.

He
held Lola in his arms, carried her as though she were weightless, felt proud
that she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, and all of it with
one thing on his mind: he would show her what this meant to him.

He
had never been more surprised at anything in his life. Lola had taken his face
in her hands, looked him right in the eye, and let him know she
knew
. That she didn’t know the exact
details didn’t matter; she was one of only a few people in that room who had
any idea what he was feeling in that moment, and she was the
only
one to see without prior knowledge.
To see, just on the basis of how she saw him.

And
then, even with everything—even though his grief over Samantha was
exactly the thing that had stood in the way of prior relationships, even though
it was exactly the thing that prevented him and Lola from being
real
—she offered him only comfort.
She saw that, and her reaction was to help him.
To soothe
him.

This
woman.

This
woman deserved…

He
kicked open the door to his apartment, feeling like he was on fire. The woman
in his arms deserved far more than he could give her, maybe than any man could
give her, but he would give her as much as he could—tonight.

“Roman,
are you ok?”

It
was the first she’d spoken since he’d picked her up with the single-minded zeal
of a barbarian. The truth was: no. He was not “ok.” In an ideal world, he would
fuck this woman until she forgot her own name, and then again until they both
passed out from pleasure, and they would wake up together, happy and content.
But he knew that could not happen. He knew from experience that if he did that,
he would wake up convinced, for one split second, that it was Samantha that he
held in his arms, and then when he realized that it was not, when he remembered
that Samantha was dead, the grief would be renewed, and it would poison
everything he did have with Lola.

He could
not allow that to happen.

He
would settle for second best: he would give her orgasm after orgasm, until she
lost her mind.

He
kicked open the door to his bedroom, a room he hadn’t slept in himself in
weeks, and threw Lola down on the bed in front of him.

“Lola,
before we begin…”

He
watched with some satisfaction as her eyes grew wide, and then heavy with lust.
She knew exactly what he meant by “begin.”

“Before
we begin, I would like to be clear: Harold Jeels will most likely no longer be
an issue after our interview tomorrow, and after the coverage of the wedding.
Our prenuptial agreement still stands. You can dissolve the marriage at any
time and take your equity stake in Volare. You will not be bound to me. But I
can tell you one thing now: I will still want you.”

Lola
opened her mouth as though to say something, but no sound came out. Just as
well
;
he was not done.

“I
want this. I want you. I will always want you. I want you to be my sub, no
matter what you choose to do.”

She
drew herself up on her knees, her red hair falling over her shoulders, the tops
of her garters—
garters
—visible
just under the hem of the dress he’d hiked up while carrying her.

Damn
it, did she know what she did to him?

“Yes,”
she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Take
off those clothes,” he said.

~ * ~ * ~

Every
time he told her to strip, it sent tiny shivers down her spine and through to
her core.

She
looked him in the eye while she did it. She wanted this to be good for him. No,
scratch that, she wanted to be the
best
for him. He’d just said what she’d been thinking: that they could keep doing
this.
That whatever it was that they were doing, they could
find a way to work it out.

Her
heart had soared.

She
pulled the tight dress up over her head, leaving only her matching black bra,
underwear, and, well, garters and stockings. She’d picked them especially for
him, wondering if they’d get to play again after all that had happened earlier.

The
look on his face told her she’d made a good decision.

He
swallowed. “All of it,” he said. “Off.”

She
was fumbling with her bra when he lost his patience. He pounced on the bed,
pushing her down under him, tearing at her clothing. In no time at all she was
completely naked, held under him.

He
pinned her hands up above her head and bent down to kiss her, long and slow
with his roving tongue. Lola felt the last of her reservations, her anxieties,
all of it, just begin to drift away,
the
way they
always did when she felt Roman on top of her. This was really all that
mattered. This was what she was beginning to live for.

“Lola,”
he said, rising up to look her in the eye, “I don’t know how to say some
things. I will show them to you instead. Tonight you will come until think you
can no longer take it. And then you will come again.”

And
he hooked her ankles into restraints she hadn’t even known were there.

Lola
took a deep breath.
She’d been restrained by Roman before
.
She’d been emotionally leveled by Roman before
.

But never both at the same time.

Roman
took her hands and placed soft leather cuffs around her wrists, hooking those
into the headboard. She was now restrained spread eagle on his bed—her
bed? She’d been sleeping in it. He’d slept in the silly bed she’d had made for
him, just to get him to say something about it.

No
, she thought as she tested the restraints. Definitely
still Roman’s bed.

He
was on his
knees,
still wearing the suit she’d made
him wear earlier that night, balanced between her legs. He seemed to be taking
in the view.

“So
beautiful,” he said under his breath. “You don’t even know, do you?”

She
didn’t have time to answer him before he ducked down for another kiss, his
hands taking the opportunity to explore her helpless body. He ran one hand down
the side of her face, down her neck, to her breast, and let the other ride up
her thigh, so slowly, and stop just inches away…

“Oh
God,” she said.

He
kneeled between her legs and smiled. “Not yet,” he said, and shrugged off his
suit coat. His tie came next, then his shirt, then his trousers. Roman stripped
himself with almost the same skill with which he always stripped her.

The
result left her breathless.

In
all their encounters, she’d never really looked at him—
really
looked at him—naked. He was
beyond magnificent. They’d left the light on in the bathroom, all those hours
ago, and it glowed against his skin now, the shadows deepening the ridges and
planes of his bronzed body. He was already erect, almost proud, swollen and
darker than the rest of him.

“Lola,”
he said softly, his hands beginning to work their way up her legs. “I want to
see.”

And
he thrust two fingers into her, hard, twisting them as he did. She arched off
the bed at the sudden intrusion, bucking against her restraints, and she heard
him chuckle softly.

“So
sensitive,” he said, and she looked down just as his thumb passed over her
clit.

“Oh
shit, Roman,” she cried, her arms pulling at the restraints in reflexive
reaction to the lightning suddenly coursing through her. “Please, I need you
inside of me.”

“Come
first,” he said, and crooked his fingers inside of her while his thumb began
making quick circles around her clit.

She
rose up almost too
quickly,
catching the thread of a
light orgasm that only left her hungrier. When she opened her eyes again there
he was, smiling like a wolf. He licked his fingers.

“I’m
going to have so much more of you,” he said, and climbed off the bed.

She
wanted to scream in frustration. All she wanted, over and over again, was
Roman, any which way she could get him. She was so far gone that she nearly
moaned just to see him return, though she couldn’t see what he carried.

“Close
your eyes,” he said. “If you open them, I will only make you wait longer.”

She
did as she was told, though she felt like, at this point, if it weren’t for the
restraints she could practically hover off the bed. Roman dipped his fingers
into her again and she clenched around him, only to be rewarded with a slight
chuckle as he spread her own juices around her clit. She moaned again, lifting
her hips off the bed, and then she heard it click on.

The buzz of a vibrator.

She
fought to keep her eyes closed.

“Roman—”

He
put it directly on her clit. Lola screamed, her body unsure whether to register
the sudden influx of sensation as pleasure or pain. Roman took care of that for
her by plunging into her, the vibrator still held against her clit. She felt
the contractions coming, yet still building at the same time, and her confused
body writhed under him as he drove into her again and again.

“Come,”
he growled, and she felt his lips around her nipple as she came again—or
continued to come?

She
was screaming.

She
was sure she could hear herself screaming.

Her
body was shaking uncontrollably as he slowly pulled out his still erect cock
with deliberate wickedness.

“Open,”
he said.

Lola
opened her eyes to see Roman over her. She tried to rise up to kiss him, but
found herself inhibited by the restraints. He brushed her cheek, in that way he
always did, and smiled beatifically at her.

“Look
at me this time,” he said.