CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jude
She wanted tosee my room. My fuckingroom. No sub, other than Layla, had ever stepped foot in there. Even with this tradition of giving my submissives one day of power and pampering, none of them had asked to see it. Almost like despite the day of power, I still had drawn an invisible line across the door. An unspoken hard limit.
I swallowed the last of my spicy tuna roll and watched as Marly nibbled on a piece of ginger, her eyes forward on the computer screen I had grabbed from my bedroom. Granted, Netflix on a 17-inch laptop screen wasn’t the most luxurious, but we were comfortable together, sitting on the floor with the laptop between us as some cheesy show about a hospital and bunch of doctors fucking each other played.
The credits rolled and Marly covered a jaw-popping yawn with the back of her hand. “Ready for bed?” I asked, secretly hoping she totally forgot about wanting a tour of my room.
She shook her head, slowly moving it back and forth. “Nuh-uh. I want to see what’s behind door number one,” She pointed her finger to the adjoining door. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.” She moved that same finger she’d used to point to the door to my face and it took every ounce of my self-control not to nip the tip of her finger.
“You seem tired, Marly.” God, I was such an ass. What was the big damn deal, right? It was just my room… it wasn’t even my room inside myhome. It was just like a studio apartment I rented from the club.And in some ways, that makes it worse.My real home? It was perfectly designed with only a few BDSM toys in the closet. I had always been diligent to keep my two lives separate.Until Layla. Layla fucked everything up.But my room here? It housed all my secrets. Every deviant act, every wicked toy… if walls could talk, they would tell Marly what a fraud I was.
“I’m not tired,” Marly said. “And it’s my night, right? If I want to spend it playing Boggle until five a.m., Ican.”
“Well,” I said, sliding the plastic sushi containers to the side and shutting my laptop. “If we’re going to get technical about things, your day of control and pampering ends at midnight.” I checked my phone for the time. “You have 36 minutes.” Maybe she’d run out the clock. Or maybe she’d see my room and be bored. It looks like any other bachelor pad. Hell, itwasjust like any other bachelor pad—if said bachelor was an affluent Dominant. It wasn’t like she would really find anything too telling in there. It was the principle behind it. That room was mine. Supposed to be off-limits until I decided the relationship was ready.
“What?” Marly checked her phone as well. Like she didn’t believe me that it was nearing midnight. “How is it almost midnight already?”
“Pampering takes time,” I joked. “Ninety-minute massage, ninety-minute facial, sixty-minute manicure, sixty-minute pedicure… it adds up.”
She jumped to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her yoga pants. “Okay, 36 minutes.” She walked to the door. “Show me your room.”
I stretched my neck to each side. “Fine.” I stood, turning the knob to the adjoining door and holding it open for her. She stepped cautiously over the threshold, looking around. Her look of bewilderment was so intense, you would have thought it was the fucking door to Narnia.
My room was bigger than the sub’s room. All Master’s bedrooms were. That’s just the way LnS designed the space. Mine was shaped like a studio apartment rather than a hotel room, like Marly’s. Against the front wall was a small kitchen. Next to it, a full bathroom with white marble tiles. Next to the window, in the corner of the room was a California King size bed. And what Marly couldn’t see? The restraints connected to that bed beneath the mattress. The anal beads in the nightstand drawer. The journal I kept of my submissives, detailing every single one of our dirty acts.
She circled the room, running her hand along the small prep area in the kitchen. Pacing to the front door and peeking into the bathroom. Then, wandering to the window. Each step she took deeper into my space felt like a threat. Like I was a cat being cornered and she was encroaching on my safe space. The first time Layla had seen this studio, she had opened every drawer. Took out every piece of clothing I owned and examined it. Went through my journal and read every word about every sub I’d ever had and then threatened to burn the book. It turned into a battle of who was the real Dom between us… and I was always fighting to prove my position. My jaw clenched painfully. Would Marly do that? Walk around and judge every aspect of my life?
She threaded her fingers into the edge of the tasseled curtains and peeked out the window. “We’re only on the second floor. Have paparazzi ever tried to photograph in here?”
“It’s reflective glass. We can see out. They can’t see in.”
She nodded, seemingly pleased by that answer and turned to the bed. Her eyebrow crept higher, arching over her blue eyes. “That is one big bed.”
“You and Omar don’t have a King?”
“Uh…” She jerked her eyes from mine, stumbling over her words. “No. I mean, not yet. I have a queen—wehave a queen. For now.”
Something was off about their engagement. I’d felt it when I first saw them at the club together and whenever Marly mentioned Omar. Even now—her reaction was extreme. Asking what size bed she and her fiancé shared shouldn’t make someone so flustered. I examined her. The way her newly manicured fingers flew to her mouth and as she began chewing, she stopped herself, lengthening her strong, lean arms out in front of her. With an outstretched hand, she sighed, admired her manicure, then clenched her hands around her hips.
She stared at my comforter—it was simple with slate grey pleats and black and grey matching ornate pillows. Then, she quickly moved past the bed, toward my walk-in closet.
“Marly,” I warned as she reached out a hand to the doorknob of the closet. I rushed in front of her, blocking the entrance with my body.
She didn’t say anything, but her shrewd eyes flashed and she lifted that same challenging eyebrow as before. “I’m in charge for how much longer?”
I sighed, glancing at my phone. “24 minutes.”
“Okay, then.” She waited, standing her ground.
I couldn’t let her go in there. Anywhere but that closet. She’d barely had any time to adjust to LnS. Other than a brief excursion last night to the common room, she hadn’t left her room all day.
“Jude,” Marly snapped. “Move.” The hollow in my chest plummeted to my stomach. With tense shoulders, I stepped aside and waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop, even if I wasn’t sure what that was going to look like.
Turning the knob, she opened the door and peeked into the walk-in closet. Some of my suits hung at the front, but mostly… it housed my toys. My paddles. My ball gags. My ropes. All the stuff I refused to bring home with me rested on shelves, perfectly organized.
“I tried to warn you,” I said.
