Surprisingly, she gives in to that and picks up a piece of bacon. “So how come you were sad that night? I mean, if you so willingly walked out of that game?”
“Who says I was sad?”
“Well, obviously Jordan doesn’t go around giving away his best woman to just anyone.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “He’s got more than one of you?”
She laughs. And it’s a good laugh. Real too. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I know he’s been pretty preoccupied with me these past few weeks.”
“Training you,” I say. “For me, I think.”
She has a forkful of pancake heading for her mouth when she stops and says, “What?”
“He told me. He brought you to the Club a couple times. We were talking at the bar. You were looking at me that first time. You slapped him both times. And he said you thought yourself a top. And I laughed.”
“It’s funny, huh?”
“You’re just too young, Nadia. To know the difference.”
“I don’t think so.” Her back is straighter now. Like I offended her.
“Anyway, he invited me in that first day. But I said no.”
“Because of… Rochelle and… Quin, right?”
“Yes. We had something good.”
“Obviously,” she concedes. “If it lasted so long. Do you miss them?”
“Sure. All the time.”
“And I’m the replacement?”
I shrug. “Why not? Does it make you feel used?”
“No,” she says. Defiantly. “I’m using you too.”
“For what?”
“Sex.” She shrugs. “What else.”
“But you can get sex from the little boys at that club, right?”
“They’re not little boys. Everyone there is eighteen. And two of those guys were twenty-two.”
“Same difference,” I say. “Boys.”
“And what? You’re a man? I need you, a man, to give me what I don’t know I want?”
“You got it in one, sister.”
“Shit.” She laughs. “You definitely have an ego, that’s for sure.”
“So house hunt tomorrow?”
“I’m working.”
“At the ballet?”
“You know where I work.”
“So you’ll be too tired to go out tomorrow night?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Did you say yes, then?”
“House hunt tomorrow. Got it on my calendar.”
“Good,” I say. We eat in silence after that. It makes her uncomfortable, but that’s exactly why I don’t talk. Just eat. And when we’re both finished, I pick up our plates and take the dishes to the sink. “So, are you ready for your punishment?”
“What?”
I turn to face her. Cross my arms over my chest. Lean into the countertop. “For slapping me, Nadia. You can’t slap me and get away with it. So are you ready? Or would you like a day to think about your actions and see if you can make it up to me tomorrow?”
“I thought you weren’t gonna make a big deal about the slaps?”
“This is me being cool about it. But everything has consequences.”
“What kind of punishment?”
“Slaps, of course.”
“On my face?”
“You slapped mine.”
“Fuck that.”
“I won’t leave marks. You won’t need excuses for why you have a black eye. I won’t beat you, Nadia. But it’s gonna hurt.”
“As much as I hurt you? Is that how this works? Well,” she says, dabbing her lips with her napkin, “I don’t think I hurt you too much. So let’s just do it now. Where do you want me?”
Jesus Christ. Point to Nadia for having balls. “Go lie across the arm of the couch,” I say.
“Face down? Or face up?”
“Down.”
“I thought you wanted to slap my face.”
“I’ll get there eventually.”
Her mouth makes an o shape. But she turns and walks across the room to the couch. One backward glance before she lowers herself as commanded.
“Spread your legs,” I say.
“Will you spank my ass?” she jokes. But she opens her legs. Her pussy is staring at me. Long, wet, pink folds stretched tight.
“No,” I say, opening up a kitchen drawer and grabbing the rope I keep in there. “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”
“No comment.”
Wise girl.
I take the rope over to her. “Hands behind your back.”
She obeys, giving in so easy. She has no idea who and what I am. Which pleases me. I loop the rope around her wrists She looks over her shoulder at me, face screwed up with questions. “I didn’t tie you up, Elias.”
“So?” I shrug. “What’s your point?”
“You said slaps.”
“I get it, Nadia,” I say, pulling the rope tight so she can’t get away. “You like this shit a lot. But try to play a little hard to get next time, will ya? Make it interesting for me?”
“God.” She sighs. “You’re a dick.”
“Stand up,” I say.
She struggles a little, but manages. Then turns to face me. “Give it your best shot, Elias. I can take it.”
Both of my eyebrows go up. “Are you sure about that?”
“Very,” she purrs.
I slap her face. Her head turns into it from momentum. I leave a bright pink handprint across her cheek.
“Fuck, Bric!”
“Elias,” I say. “This is me, Nadia. Elias. The real me.”
She huffs out a breath of air. Grinds her teeth for a second. Then says, “Do it. You’ve got one more, asshole. So just do it.”
“Fuck that,” I say, chuckling a little. “I think I got you good enough with one.”
“One little slap? Then why did you tie me up?”
I take off my fun apron and throw it on the ground. My dick is hard and Nadia can’t help herself. She stares at it. “We can fuck, if you want. I don’t care.”
“No,” I say. “No. I’m not gonna fuck you.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
“Get on your knees,” I say. “And open your legs so I can see your pussy.”
I walk over to the kitchen, pull out a note pad from a drawer and a big, fat, red marker, write five words on the pad, then rip the piece of paper off with a quick flick of my hand.
My phone is on the counter, so I grab that too, and walk back over to stand in front of Nadia. “Open your mouth,” I say.
She looks at my cock. Licks her lips. And opens her mouth. I press the piece of paper on her tongue and say, “Close.”
She obeys again. A little confused, but still not quite getting it.
I take a picture. Smile at it. At her. That haughty, defiant look plastered all over her face. “You’re pretty,” I say, taking the piece of paper out of her mouth.
“Thank you,” she says back, voice filled with mockery.
“You know what I’m gonna do with this?” I ask her, showing her the picture.
Her eyes narrow as she reads what I wrote. Considers all the possibilities as they flood her mind.
“Well, I’m not going to do anything with it if you behave,” I say. “But if you ever”—I cover the two steps between us and grab her face with my free hand—“ever fucking hit me again, Nadia Wolfe, I’ll ruin your fucking life with this picture.”
The mind fuck continues. She just hasn’t caught on yet.
Chapter Twenty - Nadia
Later, when I’m alone, and after Bric dressed me up in the promised sweats and had a car drive me home—not him, mind you, but a service. Dick—I think about that note.
I want to be owned.
I actually laughed when I read it. “This,” I said, “is the best you can do?” There were moments when I actually felt sorry for Bric’s game. Or lack thereof.