Because He Owns Me (Because He Owns Me, Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

“I told you to never apologize.
 
Now you have disobeyed me.”

“Disobeyed you?” I asked, not able to keep
myself from giggling.
 
“That’s
absurd, you’re not even – ”

“I will be in room 4D,” he said.
 
“I will wait there for five
minutes.
 
If you decide not to join
me, I will leave through the back door.”
 
His fingers slid down and undid another
button on my shirt, peeling back the fabric slowly,
the
front hook of my bra now completely exposed.

My panties were soaked, and my mind screamed at
me to stop, that this was wrong, that I knew nothing about this man, that the
effect he was having on my body wasn’t real.

But it
was
real.

I was turned on, a thrumming sensation that
vibrated through my body.

“Please know,” he said,
 
“that if you do decide to join me, I
will
 
be
punishing you.”

He stood up and disappeared into the back
hallway, leaving me there, panting and breathless.

Holy crap.
 
What the
hell
 
had
just happened?

***

As soon as he was gone I buttoned my
shirt.
 
Then I whipped out my phone and
googled the name of the restaurant.

Whipped Midtown Manhattan.

I stared at the screen in horror.

Whipped was a BDSM club.

BDSM.
 
Paddles.
 
Chains.
 
Blindfolds and gags
and all kinds of other stuff that both repulsed and fascinated me.

Actually, according to the website, Whipped was
‘BDSM light.’
  

“
WHIPPED functions as a full-functional
restaurant and bar with a full menu.
 
For our more adventurous guests, private rooms are available.
 
There are no public play spaces.”

Public play spaces?

I couldn’t believe some guy I’d met on a dating
app had invited me to a BDSM club.
 
I couldn’t believe the fact that the place was called Whipped hadn’t
tipped me off.
 
But how the hell was
I supposed to know what really went on here?
 
I’d just thought maybe they were known
for their desserts or their mashed potatoes or something.

I was so not in Michigan anymore.

Public play spaces!

I will be punishing you.

What did that even mean?

I reached over and took a sip of Callum’s drink
in an effort to cool myself down. My skin felt prickly and hot.
 

The sour bite of lemon filled my mouth and I
remembered how Callum’s lips had felt against mine, the broadness of his chest,
the way his hands had felt as he unbuttoned my shirt.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was up and
moving toward the back hallway toward the private rooms.
 
I felt like an imposter, and I half expected
one of the people who worked there to stop me, to tell me that I had no
business being back there.

But no one even noticed.

It was quieter back here, and I wasn’t sure if
that was a good sign or a bad one.
 

I ventured down the hallway, my heart thrumming
against my ribs, looking for room 4D.
 
It was three doors down on the right.

I stopped outside the door and took a deep
breath, listening for clues as to what might be going on inside these
rooms.
 
After a few seconds, my ears
were able to filter out the music coming from the restaurant, and I zoned in on
the sounds wafting out from behind the closed doors.

Slaps.

Smacks.

Moans.

A woman whimpering.

The sound of a man’s voice, gruff and
demanding.

Get out of here
, my mind yelled.
 
Get the fuck out of here, Adriana,
and don’t come back.
 

Instead, I raised my hand and knocked on the
door of 4D.
 

“Come in,” Callum called.

 
I
turned the knob and walked in, bracing myself for whatever I might find inside.

But there wasn’t anything scary about the room.

In fact, it was quite the opposite.
 

There was a dark grey couch pushed against one
wall, and a soft-looking leather bench on the side of the room.
 
The only thing that was slightly scary
was a contraption in the corner, almost like a bench press machine with fur cuffs
hanging from it.
 
I quickly turned
away from it.
 

Besides that, the room was bare, almost like I
was in a room in someone’s house that they hadn’t gotten around to decorating.

The only other strange about 4D was the
mirrors.
 
They lined the walls on
all
sides,
the reflections bouncing off each other so
that looking at them made you feel disoriented, as if you were in a long,
endless tunnel.

Callum stood over by the bench, his back to
me.
 
He’d removed his shirt, and was
now wearing only a pair of dark dress pants that hugged his tight ass.
 
His back was rippled with muscle, and
when he turned around, I let out the breath I was holding.

He was sexier than any model, his body like
something that had been airbrushed to life.
 
His chest was broad, his pecs hard and
defined with just the slightest bit of dark hair.
 
His stomach was flat, the rippling
muscles narrowing into the V of his hips.
 
His waist was slim but not too slim – he was fit and muscular,
without being too bulky or too wiry.

I bit my bottom lip, wondering what it would
feel like to run my hands through the hair on his chest.
 

Stop staring!

His eyes moved up my body, slower than they’d
done out in the club, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Lemon,” he said.

“Lemon?”
 
I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me, or if he meant it as a term of
endearment.

He didn’t offer any explanation.

Instead, he pointed to the couch.
 
“Sit.”

I did as he said, walking over to the couch and
sitting down, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

I perched on the edge of the couch, making sure
I would be able to get up quickly if I needed to.

Callum walked to the door and locked it, the
click echoing through the room with finality.

“Why are you locking the door?” I asked, hating
that I was asking questions.
 
Was
this standard procedure?
 
I didn’t
want him to know this was my first time back here.

“We need privacy, Lemon,” Callum said.

He crossed the room until he was standing in
front of me.
 
He reached down and
took my chin in his hand, tipped it up until I was looking at him. The pad of
his thumb brushed over my lower lip, then slid down the hollow of my
throat.
 

“You’re nervous, Lemon,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” I lied, looking him in the eye,
determined not to let him see how nervous I really was, and not wanting him to
know that I’d been lying about having been here before.

“Look at the floor,” he growled, his voice
changing from teasing to commanding as if a switch had been flipped.

I did it immediately.

I wasn’t sure why.

I just knew that it felt right, that I wanted
to please him, wanted to make him happy and do what he said.

“Good girl,” he said, and I flushed with
pleasure at the compliment.

He sat down next to me, put his hand on my leg.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Adriana.”

“I told you, I’m not nervous.”
 
 
Holy
crap, that
was a lie. I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life.
 
I was also pretty sure I was more turned
on than I’d ever been in my life.

I will be punishing you.

I was careful to keep from looking at him, to
keep my eyes down on the floor like he’d instructed.
 

He inched his hand up further up my thigh.
 
His hand burned a hole through my jeans
and the electricity in my belly moved lower, into my pussy, making my panties
wetter than they already were.

“Nervous now?” he breathed.

“No.”
 
But my voice sounded slightly strangled.
 
He was only inches from touching me
between my legs, and I was afraid he was going to be able to tell how turned on
I was soon.
 
He hadn’t even touched
me, hadn’t even kissed me, and I was already dripping wet.
 

“You sure, Lemon?” he breathed, and now his
mouth was right at my ear as his hand moved further and further up, and I wanted
his hands on my body and his mouth on mine so bad that the urge was too hard to
resist and I turned my head to look at him.

He took my chin in his free hand and pushed it
back gently so I was facing forward again.

“Not until I say,” he growled.

A second later, his hand moved up and touched
me through my jeans.
 
He didn’t even
move, just kept his hand cupping my mound, pressing gently.

A moan escaped my lips.

“You’re wet, Lemon,” he breathed into my
ear.
 

He pulled his hand away, like he was enjoying
teasing me,
then
skated it up over my stomach, his
fingers toying with the button on my pants.

I closed my eyes, because I knew if I didn’t I
would try to look at him again.
 
His
lips brushed against my ear every time he talked, and the heady mix of his
aftershave and the feel of his mouth against my skin
was
intoxicating.

His hand slipped up my body, over my shirt,
kneading my breast with his hand, tweaking my nipple.

“I thought,” he said, unbuttoning my top
button.
 
“I’d taken care of
this.”
 
He unbuttoned the next one,
this time not stopping until my shirt was completely open.
 
I blushed as he pulled the sides of my
shirt to the side, taking in my bra.
 
It was a simple black number that I’d put on that morning, having no
idea that I was going to end up half naked in front of a gorgeous billionaire.

“Jesus, Lemon,” he said.
 
“We’re going to have to get you some new
lingerie.”
 
He pushed his palm flat
against my cleavage then slid it down slowly, moving over my stomach and back
to the top of my jeans.
 

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
 

I closed my eyes and then his mouth was on mine,
lemony and minty with a taste of something dark and male and dangerous.
 
His tongue parted my lips as I
surrendered to his kiss.

His hand was stroking my belly softly, moving
back and forth in slow, soft circles until he was back at the button of my
jeans.
 
This time, he undid it, his
hand slipping inside, down over my panties.

I moaned and tried to pull away from the kiss.

It wasn’t because I didn’t like kissing
him,
it was because it was so intense it was scary.
 
I felt like I was losing control of my
body, and not only that, I wanted to lose control to him.
 
I wanted to push myself over the edge,
wanted to give myself to him.
 
And
my instinct was to rail against that, even though it was what I wanted.

His other hand held the back of my head though,
pushing my mouth harder against his, the kiss deepening, his tongue probing and
dancing with mine.

I let out a little whimper as his fingers
dipped inside my panties and slid down over my pussy, tugging gently at my
pubic hair.

He pulled back from the kiss and I kept my eyes
closed, not wanting to disobey him.

“We’ll have to do something about this, too,”
he murmured, and then his fingers were spreading my folds gently and his finger
was… oh, God, his finger was inside of me and his thumb was pressing against my
clit and his mouth was back on mine.

He began fucking me with his finger, soft and
slow, while he rubbed my clit and teased my mouth with his tongue.
 
I could feel myself being pushed to the
edge, but right when I was about to come, he stopped.
 
My breathing was ragged, every sense
heightened as he began finger fucking me again, bringing me to the edge and
back over and over again, driving me crazy.