Provoking the Dom (2 page)

"I see..." There didn't seem to be much to say to that, but I was suspicious and sure I was missing something. I stared at the coffee which had just materialized in front of me, wondering if I was overlooking something obvious because I'd drunk a bit too much.

Morgan was watching me closely. "You know, most women tell me it's a lot of fun being a submissive."

I snorted. "I'm sure they say that."

"Why are you here, Stella?"

The abrupt question caught me off guard and I looked at him, trying not to feel the sparks running up my spine, suddenly aware of his strong, oceanic scent. "Umm… Right. I came for a blogging conference and then I thought I'd have a break so…"

"No, not that. Mandy told me. I meant, why are you here, in my casino?"

He was staring at me, trying to draw the truth out of me, but I refused to give it to him. Why would I tell him that I'd been dreaming about him, fantasizing about being with him? I would never admit that. "I came to the Treasury because I liked it here last time."

"I see. And why did you go to Masquerade?"

I shrugged. "I was curious."

We stared at each other silently, the air throbbing between us, and I decided to sip my coffee.

Morgan leaned forward. "How curious are you?"

My heart leaped into my throat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just that. Are you curious enough to want to try it out?"

I gasped. "Are you seriously hitting on me? And I hate that stuff, ew!"

Morgan chuckled. "I don't think you hate it, I don't think you even know what it is. But forget about it, you're far too childish to last more than a day as a submissive."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't try that trick on me."

He shrugged. "Whatever. It's up to you. Not everyone has it in them to be a sub."

"Are you kidding me?" My pride flared up, "I could be a sub anytime I wanted, I could be a perfect sub and nobody would be better than me."

"Hmm." He looked at me and finally said, "Why don't we make a bet?"

I was wary. "Like what?"

"That you can't last more than a day as a sub. If you like being a sub, I win. But if you last a week as my sub and you don't like it, you win, and I'll buy a one-year, $300,000 banner ad on your blog."

I closed my eyes. This wasn't happening. I'd wanted to be with Morgan for so long, and now I had a chance. But I didn't really want to be a sub, and Morgan clearly wanted someone who was into BDSM. If we didn't do this, I knew him well enough to know he'd pretend the whole thing had been a joke, and I'd probably never be with him. Or worse, he'd laugh at me for being chicken.

And besides, why did he think I was some kind of loser who couldn't be a sub if she wanted to? I was sure I wouldn't like it, but my blog hadn't been earning much the last few months. When I won the bet, the money he mentioned would come in handy.

I took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I could do a lot with $300,000. "Fine, the bet's on."

"Done."

We shook hands and Morgan said, "One week. You're my sub, and we'll see how long you last."

I nodded. "It's late and I'm a bit tipsy. Why don't we settle it tomorrow?"

"Right. Tomorrow, at 5. My office."

Chapter Two

I looked around the conference room. It was glass-paneled, and if someone walked past I'd see them.

The official setting made our bet seem ludicrous. Or maybe it made the whole thing seem even more intimidating? I couldn't decide.

Morgan sat opposite me, waiting for me to either read the contract or back out. This was my last chance – I could claim I'd been too drunk to know what I was saying, he'd say he'd been teasing and we'd both move on.

Or I could do the mature thing – admit to myself that I was curious about what it'd be like to be with Morgan, and that I was too proud to back down at this stage.

An assistant in a severe black dress arrived and left two coffee mugs and plate of cookies in front of us.

"How do you work like this?" I sighed, munching into a cookie.

Morgan grinned and sipped his coffee silently, waiting for me to sign. The electricity buzzing between us was obvious, but I was nervous about going into things like this. All my previous flings had been either drunken one-night stands, or started like a normal relationship with dates and making out, before we moved into the bedroom. A BDSM "fling" seemed strange and scary, and having to sign an actual contract beforehand seemed a bit preposterous.

I was worried about what the BDSM would involve, but at least the contract was clear on "no fire play, no heat play, no electricity play," and a couple of other things that sounded sufficiently off-putting to me. 

"I'm going to add something here," I said, once I'd finished going over it. "We're not going to have sex." The idea of having sex with someone after signing a contract about it seemed so cold and clinical to me.

Morgan looked at me like I'd just sprouted horns. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I've read up on BDSM," I said smugly, "I can be your
Sub even without having sex. Lots of couples do non-sex BDSM stuff."

His eyes narrowed and his face turned appealingly
dark. "I'm sure they do, but there's always something sexual involved to make it actually BDSM. They don't just stand around doing dishes all day."

I shrugged. "That might be, but you're not putting your, you know, into me."

He raised an eyebrow. "So that's your condition, you don't want my 'you know' in you?"

I smiled. "I'm sure it's tiny. But that's not my point…"

Morgan started laughing before I could go on. "Stella, I intend to show you just how 'tiny' my cock is before the week finishes."

I blushed, groaning that my jab had backfired. "But you're not putting it in me."

"Fine. I can do that. But don't kid yourself that this isn't about sex." He leaned forward and looked deep into my eyes. "Because this is all about sex. And there are a lot of other things I can do to make you scream."

We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, my heart beating wildly till I finally looked down at the contract again. "And there's not going to be bondage."

"I can't agree to that. BDSM is all about bondage."

"But I don't like the idea of being tied up."

"No can do. If you're not willing to get tied up, you might as well admit you're chicken and back out right now."

I sighed. "Fine. And I guess this means you want to go ahead with spankings and stuff."

"Absolutely. Remember, the bet ends after a week. If I can get you to admit you like BDSM by that time, I win. But if you last a week with me, and after all that time you decide you hate BDSM, you win."

"Hmm."

If I won the bet, Morgan and I would never really get together. But what if I actually liked BDSM stuff? Would Morgan and I actually have something together? Probably not. More likely, he'd just move on to someone else and I'd be left wandering through BDSM clubs like Masquerade, being pathetic and trying to find someone to whip me.

I was determined not to like this week. "And what are the stakes?"

Morgan leaned back in his chair. "If you win, I'll buy a sponsorship on your blog for $300,000. But if you lose, you'll mention the Treasury Casino in your blog's sidebar for free."

I nodded. "Sounds reasonable."

"And you'll mention that the owner of the casino, Morgan Anderson, is a handsome, intelligent man and a wonderful lover, and you'll keep it up for a year."

It was my turn to stare at him like he'd grown horns. "Are you nuts? There's no way I'm saying that!"

"Then you'd better not lose."

He smirked annoyingly and I glared at him. "Oh, I'm sure I'll win. It'll be a pleasure to take your money."

I signed the contract with a flourish and handed it over.

Morgan glanced at it and said, "I'll see you tomorrow night at 7. Come up to my suite, bring all your things and wear a skirt."

I glared at him as I took the key to his suite from him, ignoring the sparks that seemed to fly out when our fingers touched.

I stalked out, not looking back, and trying not to think about what I'd just agreed to.

Chapter Three

The next day, I lounged by the pool, tried the shrimp buffet for lunch
, and went for a walk along the strip. By the time it was 7, I was nervous and worried about whether I'd lose the bet, or whether I'd hate it too much to be able to last a week.

Morgan opened the door when I got to his suite. I walked in and was decidedly impressed – he lived in a duplex penthouse, and the floor-to-ceiling windows gave us a gorgeous view of Vegas' bright lights. The rooms were designed in a sleek, modern fashion and opened up into one another. Morgan carried my
bags
upstairs and I glanced around quickly. There seemed to be three bedrooms, but before I had a good look, we were downstairs again.

"Do you like the place?"

I nodded, not allowing myself to speak.

Morgan was all business, dressed in dark jeans and a white shirt, cool and in control. He was watching me carefully and said, "Let's get started."

He sat on the couch and indicated a spot on the floor in front of himself. "Kneel."

I sighed. It was beginning – time to get treated like an inferior being.

I slid off my heels and
knelt down, resting my body on my legs. I'd chosen to wear a modest pencil skirt, and a light pink blouse. My skirt rode up a bit as I sat down.

I looked at Morgan and he stared back. "Spread your legs."

I tried, but it wouldn't happen. "My skirt's too tight."

"Take it off."

I stood up shakily. Morgan's eyes were focused on my hips, as if he had x-ray vision and could see through the fabric. I had known this weekend might involve us getting naked, but I hadn't expected to strip in front of a fully clothed man, a man who was looking at me hungrily, as if I were a meal he planned to eat.

I slid the skirt down slowly, glad that I was wearing white panties that covered me properly, and not some skimpy thong.

I knelt down again, spreading my legs apart slightly.

Morgan wasn't impressed. "Wider, as wide as you can go."

I spread my knees wide apart, feeling the cool air on my naked thighs.

Morgan nodded. "Hands behind your head now, chest out."

I linked my fingers behind my head and tried to push my shoulders back. The blouse was tight, and strained against my breasts.