Fifty thousand dollars in exchange for three weeks of sheer commitment and consented submission. It was a simple proposal from the employer to an employee until feelings got in the way.
Being a college student and the legal guardian of her two sibli...
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My jet is on standby at Harry Reid International Airport. I set my arm around Arabella's waist as we head toward it, and her lips stretch into a sweet smile when she gazes up at me. I smile back, although a brief and somewhat occupied kind of smile, just to let her cheerful mood prevail in the hope that I'd find the meaning of all these things I'm feeling lately.
It's all too scary. Too foreign.
And then I remember the first time I met her at the gala. It was an ordinary encounter that left a sizzling sensation that lasted for almost eternity. Or was it fate? Only hopeless romantics would have believed such a tale. I was not, and hardly do I trust I am now. Speaking from experience, I've had several subs, none worthy of a collar, but I was content with how things were until now.
As gray as the situation was, glum even, I was always in control of my feelings.
However, all things considered, I've never felt this free even though I was the one holding the reins. The ugly thing about control is that it enslaves you in ways one could never fathom. You live to lead, you breathe to stay steady, and in fear of losing that balance, you simply switch off your emotions and that's how you thrive.
I feel free for the first time. But also, I am afraid of losing this feeling.
Before I met Arabella, I needed no relationship other than playtime—never a fan of vanilla sex—and fine dining in a posh restaurant before we called it off with a signed contract termination bound with a Non-Disclosure Agreement. No strings attached.
I'm a wealthy man, and I wasn't too egoistic not to perceive that it's money that attracted women to me like bees on a pretty flower. Perhaps I needed more—little did I imagine so until I met her and talked to her and did things with her I'd never done before.
But even so, I still couldn't distinct love and lust. I looked at her and all those damn hormones raced in me at the speed of the light. Dressed in a tight, black dress, her curvy body spurred my manhood and the deep desire to dominate her, to strain her in my bed until she begs me to make her come.
Don't be a jerk, Adrian! I told myself when she walked toward her boyfriend who broke her heart in a matter of thirty minutes or so later. Taken! She was taken. As a virile man with a great sense of respect and boundaries, I knew she wasn't a fish for me. The pond was large, and the night was still young after all.
Fate had a different plan. When I witnessed the ugly argument she was having with her boyfriend, my fist clenched. Only a fool would think a woman like her wasn't attractive. Only a cowardly man like Richard Cooper would mortify a woman for her looks, and humiliate her in public as he did.
But nothing went unpunished, and that was supposed to be all. I wasn't supposed to get attached, or to raise my curiosity that eventually led to that very same attachment. And frankly, I know that her presence in my life is a blessing and a curse. I know she's a threat, just as I sensed it the first time I held her onto my chest.
