Falling Hard (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #1) (18 page)

“Yes, of course.” Mannix would adhere to The
Dom’s rules as long as The Devilhouse’s cameras were on them. After
that, once he got her to his house, he and Lizzy would make their
own rules.

Finally, after The Devilhouse Dom had
detailed Lizzy’s experiences, he rocked back in his plush desk
chair, nearly a gesture of irritation, and glared out the window.
“I am not a sadist.”

He pronounced it the British way,
saddest.

If Mannix had been in full frontal Dom mode,
he might have taken advantage of such a weak spot, but The
Devilhouse Dom had deflected him too much. He went with sarcasm.
“Of course not. There are no sadists around here.”

A quick glance from The Dom suggested there
was more sarcasm in Mannix’s tone than he had intended.

“It’s this place, The Devilhouse itself,” The
Dom said. “This level of hedonism is unhealthy.”

“If you ever wanted to sell it, I’d take the
health risk,” Mannix joked.

The Dom appraised Mannix as if totaling his
net worth, perhaps finding it lacking. Mannix pulled back his
shoulders, trying to improve the assessment.

The Dom said, “I might consider it in a few
years.”

Mannix chuckled at him, covering his shock
that his offer wasn’t met with outright derision or even anger.
“Yeah, ‘God grant me celibacy and sobriety, but not yet,’
right?”

The hard edges of Dom’s stern expression
smoothed. “Indeed.”

Lizzy waited in Play Room One, a
garden-variety BDSM dungeon, pacing. Her sky-high heels ticked on
the tile like a knife chipping at a stone prison wall. The black
iron equipment—the benches and crosses and racks—seemed contrived,
as if BDSM was all just a game like Georgie had said.

She had dressed again in the golden cocktail
dress that she had worn to the membership party only eight days
ago. Her breath whooshed so fast that the pale gold spangles over
her bosom quivered, what bosom she had, anyway. She had brought her
black pumps to wear that night at The Devilhouse, so she looked
exactly like she had last Friday.

The new Dom must have been there. He must
have seen her to have liked what she wore. The Dom—the real The
Dom, and all these Doms were getting mixed up in her head—The
Devilhouse Dom had said that the new guy had liked the gold
minidress that she had worn.

Her hands shook, whether from excitement or
repressing the urge to sprint out of The Devilhouse and not look
back, she couldn’t tell.

Theo had been at that party.

Theo had certainly taken a long, blistering
look at her body in that very dress that night. He had been
interested enough in her to pry.

Maybe Theo was a secret Dom. He had said that
he wasn’t into that, but that’s what a secret Dom
would
say,
wasn’t it? He was a Devilhouse member, even though he had said that
he had just joined. If he had just joined, he would be looking for
a sub.

Good God, if it was Theo, should she thank
her lucky stars or slap the shit out of him?

She paced.

It probably wasn’t Theo.

Some random Dom who could show up at The
Devilhouse with an hour’s notice was probably a retired guy, maybe
an old guy, maybe an ugly old guy with sagging pectorals and a beer
gut and a wrinkly dick who wanted to whip young flesh. A lot of
fuzzy-headed old men had been at that party.

Lizzy reached for the doorknob, fully
intending to dash.

The door opened and bumped her hand. She
skittered backward in her high heels, bending her ankle. An old
break there ached.

The Dom strode in. His reserved expression
and dark blue eyes seemed grimmer than usual. She stepped back
farther, schooling her face to not look like a Victorian virgin on
her wedding night.

She could always leave. The Dom would back
her up.

Probably.

Nah, he would back her up.

Behind The Dom, another man walked into the
dungeon. He was an inch or so shorter than The Dom, but only
professional basketball players were taller than The Dom so he was
still really tall. Meaty muscles bulked under the new guy’s black
suit jacket, which Lizzy recognized as stylish, probably from a
high-end designer. He wore it over a white shirt, open at his thick
neck, and black jeans.

The new guy’s black hair fell in shining
waves over his shoulders, and his startling, star-blue eyes burned
through her.

Dear God and all the angels in Heaven, it was
Mr. Smolder.

Lizzy almost fell to her knees and thanked
her stars for her deliverance from crusty old Doms and stalkery
county attorneys.

Yet, disappointment nudged her. She had
almost convinced herself that Theo was out in the hallway, waiting
for her, wanting her, but he wasn’t.

Yeah, well, fuck Theo, anyway.

The Dom said, “Lizbeth, may I present Mr.
Mannix Bonfils, a Dom in search of a submissive. Mannix, this is
Ms. Lizzy Pajari, who is considering the submissive lifestyle.”

Mannix Bonfils stepped forward with an
aggressive swagger and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms.
Pajari.”

“Likewise.”

His huge, tan hand engulfed Lizzy’s pale
hamster paw. A tattooed tendril crept past his business suit and
down his wrist.

Oh, yeah.
This guy looked like a
Dom.
Even The Dom of The Devilhouse paled in comparison to
Mannix Bonfils’s glowering, smoldering sexuality. He was
chocolate-dipped Heathcliff holding a whip, staring at her through
his own tortured soul.

Lizzy licked her lips. She could just bite
him.

The Dom said, “I’ll leave you to get
acquainted.” He caught Lizzy’s eyes one last time and, with a
glance, directed her attention to the black sphere embedded in the
ceiling, the eye in the sky, there for her protection.

She smiled to let him know that she was all
right.

The Dom left. The heavy door slid closed
behind him and clicked.

She turned back to Mannix Bonfils. Even
though Lizzy had worked at The Devilhouse for almost two years, she
had no idea how this was supposed to go. “So, you’re looking for a
sub.”

He stepped closer to her, towering above her.
He drew one finger along the underside of her jaw and lifted her
chin to look at him. His light blue eyes, fringed with a thick row
of black eyelashes, burned more brightly, like a blue-hot gas
flame. “I was looking for you. I saw you at the membership party a
few weeks ago, and I’ve been fascinated by you ever since. You’re
wearing the same dress.”

Her eyes went wide, and she nodded.

He bent, and his breath touched her lips.

Lizzy almost backed up from this guy whom she
had met less than a minute ago, but he pressed in and kissed her
gently with warm, soft lips. His hand under her chin turned and
caught the side of her face, gently holding her to his lips. Lizzy
closed her eyes, feeling his warmth. His scent came to her: warm,
male, and a hint of a green and woodsy cologne.

His other hand slipped around her back,
pulling her body to his. He was so tall that he bent to kiss her,
bowing his back like he was crouching. She leaned into his body and
her hands went to his chest, wanting to feel him. Under her palms,
muscle hardened his body because he was extravagantly built. Huge
mounds of muscle stacked on his shoulders and arms. His suit jacket
was unbuttoned, and Lizzy slid her hands over his waist. Tough,
muscular lumps hid under his silk shirt.

Lizzy’s breath caught in her chest. Tension
spiraled in her core and wound around her, and heat shot down her
spine. She managed to whisper, “Aren’t we supposed to fill out
forms or something? Discuss hard and soft boundaries? Safe, sane,
and consensual?”

Mannix whispered near her lips, “SSC is
pablum for the vanilla types. I practice RACK, Risk-Aware
Consensual Kink.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The acknowledgment that sadism is not safe
and often not sane. It is powerful and disturbing, two beautiful
virtues.”

“You aren’t going to take me out to dinner
first? See a movie? Send me flowers? Call me after three days?”

His voice was deeper, almost coarse. “I’m not
that type of man, and this is not that type of relationship.”

Seemed like Lizzy needed to figure out the
rules.

He moved sideways, kissing the corner of her
mouth. He tilted her head up with his fingers under her chin and
nibbled under her jaw. “Safe word?” he growled into her neck.

She gasped in enough air to whisper,
“Gold.”

His hands pressed over her ass and cupped
behind her knees, lifting her, and he held her in his arms like she
was fluff. She melted into his kiss, holding his smooth cheeks and
sharp jaw in her palms. Mannix probably didn’t have a magic dick
either, so she probably wouldn’t come, but she wanted him.

“I will tell you what I’m going to do to
you.” His voice vibrated against her throat, fluttering her skin.
“If you don’t submit to what I want, use your safe word. If you use
your safe word, everything stops.”

Lizzy nodded.

He carried her a few paces and dropped her
legs, but he held her stomach against his barrel chest with one
arm. Her body slid down his, her thighs and belly pressed against
his muscled torso, until her toes touched down. Standing on a
bench, her mouth was higher than his, and she held onto his face
with both of her hands as she kissed him. His lips sucked on hers,
pulling desire from her core.

Her skin heated, her whole body blushing as
sensitive as fingertips.

“You should know something about me,” she
whispered against his mouth, hoping that the security cam wouldn’t
pick up her voice. She breathed right by his ear when he nipped her
collarbone. “I’m not wired right. I don’t have orgasms. You
shouldn’t bother trying.”

Even though she hoped it wasn’t true.

“I know all about you,” he said, “and don’t
speak unless I tell you to.”

“But you should know—”

He slapped her ass sharply, stinging her
flesh even through her dress.

Lizzy gasped, shocked.

His voice, murmuring just below her ear, was
as calm as if he were trying to soothe skittish doe. “No more
talking or you’ll earn a trip over my knee.”

Lizzy thought about testing him just to see
if he would do such a thing and to see what it would be like, but
his lips were hot on hers and she was so into kissing him that she
couldn’t think. Her arms wrapped around his neck, clinging.

His hands grasped her thighs near her knees.
He raised his hands, rubbing up her thighs and lifting the hem of
her skirt.

Even though Lizzy thought of herself as a
liberated, modern woman, she had never just jumped in bed with some
guy. Well, she had wanted to screw Theo at the Devilhouse
membership party, but that was different because they had talked
and danced and had a Jersey connection, and in the West, meeting
somebody who had lived off Exit One-Oh-Five was the equivalent of
your aunts being best friends in high school.

Screwing some guy right off was Georgie’s
fuck-’em-and-chuck-’em mentality. That was fine for her, but Mr.
Smolder,
Mannix,
might be more than that. Lizzy didn’t want
to chuck him.

Lizzy pushed at his hulking shoulders and
stepped back, dancing backward on the narrow bench like it was a
balance beam. Her lips felt swollen from kissing him, and she could
feel that her eyes were glassy with horniness. “We shouldn’t.”

“Are you using your safe word?” he asked. His
startling, light blue eyes weren’t sex-glazed. Indeed, his sharp
stare analyzed her. His black lashes gathered so thickly around his
light eyes that he almost looked like he had applied guyliner to go
clubbing. The look clashed with his high-end business suit.

“No, it’s just that we shouldn’t do this
yet.”

Mannix lifted his head and then stroked his
chin, considering. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t how you should start a
relationship, a real relationship, that lasts. I don’t know what
The Dom told you, but I don’t want just a scene for a night or a
fuck buddy. I mean, it’s Saturday night. If I wanted a quickie, the
Devilhouse is going to be full of Doms looking for a sub for a
scene. I could even volunteer for the show, if that’s all I wanted.
I’m not in it just for tonight. I want a Dom-sub
relationship
.”

Mannix said, “The Devilhouse Dom made that
clear.”

“What did he tell you about me?”
Please,
please not Beijing.

“That you believe that pain is necessary for
your pleasure and that you are looking for Dom. Nothing else.”

Lizzy exhaled, deflating with relief.

Mannix cocked his head to the side, and a
silken curl of black hair slipped over his shoulder. “This is a
trial scene to determine if we are compatible in our tastes. If so,
we can then progress to a training relationship, and from there, to
a formal Dom-sub relationship. However, this is how a
Dominant-submissive relationship with me would work: When I say
that we will have a scene, we have one, immediately, and it will be
whatever I want. To be with me, you have to be all in, to hold
nothing back. I want everything from you.” He stared right into her
eyes, and the blueness in eyes intensified like a focusing laser.
“Tonight, I want to see how you respond to commands. If we engage
in a Dom and sub relationship, I will loan you out to other Doms
for their pleasure or mine. When I travel for work, and I do, you
will be given to another Dom for those weeks. If submitting to a
person who has not wined and dined you is beyond your boundaries,
then a relationship between us will not work. In that case, thank
you meeting with me, Lizzy. It has been a pleasure.” Mannix turned
toward the heavy, iron-bound door.

“Wait,” she said.

Mannix stopped walking, but he didn’t turn
back.