She laughs. “I’m sure I know more about it than you do.”
I cross my arms. “Really? Because I read all about it online. This isn’t just casual sex he’s wanting me to agree to. It’s a different kind of relationship.”
“Okay, so he ties you up and slaps your ass every once in awhile. I don’t really see how that’s different.”
“That’s not what it’s about,” I say. I clear my throat, realizing I’m arguing passionately about this after having only briefly skimmed some wikipedia articles. Still, Lacey is the only person I can really talk to about this, and I’m still trying to figure out where I stand on it. “The contract already had Jackson’s part filled out and--”
Before I can finish, Lacey is out of the bed and leaning over my shoulder. “Where?”
“I doubt he wants you to--”
She snatches the contract and flips through the pages until she finds the page with his interests listed. She purses her lips. “So he is a dominant. He requires that the play extends beyond the bedroom? He doesn’t require recipro… what does that mean?”
“Reciprocation in that context means he doesn’t need me to return the, uh, sexual favors. I guess he would get off just from seeing me enjoy myself.” I recall our time in the hospital room when his voice was my only companion as my fingers worked between my legs furiously, bringing me to the first climax I ever had in front of anyone.
“That’s a jackpot, Bri. Most guys are the complete opposite. You give them a blowjob and do everything they possibly want, and as soon as they cum they fall asleep and forget you exist.”
“This sounds like an interesting conversation,” says Mia, who pushes her way into our dorm room. “I”m sure none of this sexual activity will be taking place in the dorms, correct?”
“Mia,” says Lacey. “I don’t care if you’re the RA. It’s eleven P.M. Can you please kindly see your way the hell out of our room? Thanks.”
Mia purses her lips. “It’s actually irrelevant whether you care or not, Lacey. Seeing as it’s an hour past curfew, I’m perfectly within my rights to ask two residents of this dorm to keep their voices down so everyone else can sleep.”
“We were talking quietly,” I say.
“That’s why I could hear you from the hallway, right?” asks Mia.
“Okay,” says Lacey. “Message heard loud and clear. We’ll keep it down. Why don’t you go ahead and see yourself out. And don’t worry, I’ll say all the nice things I have to say about you so quietly you won’t hear them.”
Mia flashes a perfectly fake smile. “That’s all I ask. Have a good night girls.” She has the nerve to flick the light off on her way out.
Lacey stomps toward the light switch, kicks something, and trips, knocking over an end table and a lamp on her way down. “I think I’m just going to go ahead and sleep right here,” says Lacey breathlessly, nose pressed into the floor.
I laugh, tiptoeing through our messy room to help her up and flick on the light.
I get into Jackson’s car the following night after class. He looks stunning, as usual. He’s wearing a navy sportcoat with a crisp white button-down beneath and his hair is pushed away from his tanned face.
“You look fantastic,” he says.
I’m wearing a mid-thigh skirt and a top I borrowed from Lacey that shows more cleavage than I normally would. She bullied me into wearing it, and the way Jackson’s eyes are drinking me in suddenly makes me glad she did.
“I signed it,” I say, handing him the contract.
The excitement in his eyes makes me laugh a little. “Did you really think I’d be able to say no to you?”
He shifts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, smirking. “You sure as hell did a good job convincing me you might.”
“So what now?” I ask.
“I tell you the safe word. This word means game over, no matter where we are, no matter how far it has gone, no matter how much you think I might not want to stop. If you’re uncomfortable or scared, you say it. End of story. I’ll never be upset with you for using it. Do you understand me?”
I nod.
“Say it,” he says.
“I understand.”
“Sir,” he prompts.
I swallow, already feeling like I’m in over my head. “I understand… Sir.”
“Good. The safe word is red if you want to stop. And if you think you’re getting close to your limit and are getting uncomfortable, but don’t want to stop yet, you say yellow. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, sir,” I add quickly. “Just like traffic lights. Easy to remember. I like that.” I wince a split second later, wishing I knew how to stop talking sometimes.
He smirks. “Good. You’re learning fast, Princess. You’ll address me as sir in private. In public, you can still call me Jackson. It’s also important that you understand what this is. I’m not interested in humiliation or degradation. We’re building a special kind of relationship. The foundation is trust.
“The more you trust me, the further I can take your pleasure. You will submit to me completely and fully in the end. It will be difficult at first, but that’s part of the experience.”
I nod, trying to slow my breathing. I feel like I just jumped out of an airplane and I’m in a freefall. Listening to him talk about what kind of relationship we’ll have is both thrilling and terrifying. It only takes looking at him to know every woman alive would kill to be in my shoes right now. He’s sex personsified. My body has no doubts about this, unlike my brain. I can already feel myself growing warm and wet just thinking about the kind of things he might do to me.
The part I’m still struggling with is in my head. To finally sign the papers, I had to convince myself this wasn’t about my book I’ll still write it, but I realized I wouldn’t ever take something this far just for the sake of my writing. As much as I care about my dreams of becoming an author, I know that I signed the papers because I’ve felt something with Jackson no other guy has ever made me feel. He accepts me. No, it’s more than that. He desires me. He craves me. He needs me.
When he opened up about his past I felt my heart breaking for him. I can sense how lost he feels. I don’t know if he’d ever admit it, but Jackson is a man still searching for answers. He carries so much guilt with him and blames himself for all the terrible things that have happened to the people he cares about. I’m not sure how, but I want to help him forgive himself.
Jackson pulls into a gated driveway surrounded by tall hedges. The gate opens automatically as he pulls up the driveway. We follow a soft curve through the hedges until his mansion comes into view. I’ve never been one to lust after wealth, but I can’t help being blown away by the scale of his home. What appears to be the main building almost looks like a modern castle. It’s at least three stories with several circular rooms that rise above the rest of the already huge house. The main building alone looks as large as most hotels, but there’s also a snaking driveway that winds between several separate, smaller buildings that are all huge in their own right. There’s a basketball court, a tennis court, and from what I can see as we drive up, a pool surrounded by rocks and artificial waterfalls.