The Mistress Mistake

His face became even more remote as he retaliated immediately. "Where would I fuck you, Jessica? We need a private place."

Before she could stop herself, she closed her eyes tightly against his bluntness and the truth of what she was contemplating. He obviously didn't care for her reaction because his hand reached out and he grabbed her chin. "Open your eyes."

She did as he said and found him staring straight at her.

"We're going to fuck, Jessica." His words were short and clipped and his eyes held hers captive. "Say it."

She swallowed and tried her best. "Yes, we are."

His fingers pinched angrily into her chin. "I don't think you get it yet."

She took a shuddering breath. "I do."

"Then say it," he demanded.

She closed her eyes in distress again, and when she did it, he released her chin and stood to his feet. "We're done here. Nice meeting you."

Before she could let herself think, she reached out and grabbed his hand. He stalled and stood looking down at her, waiting, a tic beating heavily in his cheek.

She took a slow, deep breath, and let it out again. She was going to be a geologist. "We're going to fuck."

As she looked up at him, his cheeks reddened and his nostrils flared as his eyes detailed her face. "And you're not going to fuck anybody else," he demanded at once.

Jessica was a quick learner and didn't make the same mistake twice. He very obviously didn't care for it when she flinched. She held his eyes and repeated, "I'm not going to fuck anybody else." She made her voice strong as she said it, but she didn't think about what she was saying. She thought about a framed diploma, she thought about getting to travel to Antarctica, she thought about rocks and minerals and the formation of the Earth through billions of years of galactic history.

His hand clenched under hers, but he turned and sat back down. "You understand what I mean when I say you won't fuck anyone else?"

"Yes, I think it's self-explanatory."

"It means you won't have a boyfriend. Do you have one now?" His teeth gritted as he asked that question.

"No, I don't."

"Good. You can't have one. No boyfriends, no dates, no platonic relationships with men that can be misconstrued. If I'm paying you, then I own your sex life. All of it."

"Okay."

"I'll set you up in an apartment. I'm guessing you have no furniture?"

Was her state of poverty so apparent then? "No, I don't."

"Fine. I'll arrange for a furnished apartment. It will be easier that way."

"It will be on the bus route? I don't have a vehicle, I need it to be close to campus." He'd already said he'd allow that, but she needed to make sure.

"Not a problem."

Jessica steeled her nerves and asked another question, "How often?"

"How often, what?"

She caught herself just before she closed her eyes against what she was about to have to say. "How often do you think you'll want to have sex?"

Long seconds ticked by as he stared into her eyes and Jessica had the sinking feeling that he wasn't going to let her get away with the question without using more graphic terminology. She held her breath, preparing to say that word he kept forcing her to use. But finally, he exhaled and answered, "A lot. You'll be earning your money. Often and whenever I want it."

"Except when I have to be in class."

"Yes. I realize that you have a life, just as I have my own life. This relationship is meant to make both of our lives easier, not more difficult."

She studied him while a horrible thought crossed her mind. His profile said he was single, but men had been known to lie. "You're not married, are you?"

His expression blackened and his eyes became obdurate as a chill came over his features. "No."

Thank God for that. And then another niggling concern began poking at her so much she had to know. "I need to ask--I need to tell you something else."

"What is it?"

"I won't be passed around like a . . . " She tried to think of a comparison in male language. " . . . like a power tool. You're buying . . . the pleasure of my company, but I won't be shared with your friends."

He watched her steadily for several seconds. Just long enough to send panic bleeding through her. Finally he answered her, slowly and succinctly. "What was it about not fucking anybody else that you didn't understand?"

His impatient question sent a ribbon of relief sliding through her. "So, you agree?"

"I agree."

She spelled it out further for him. "No threesomes. No orgies."

"Agreed."

Connor stared at her steadily from across the table. It sent a trickle of molten heat through her when she thought about what he wanted to do to her. Panic and heat. He was incredibly handsome, staring at her like that, thinking about having sex with her. Very handsome, very scary.

His silence continued.

A blush stole over her face, she could feel her cheeks getting hot as the picture of their naked bodies entwined wrapped around her brain and wouldn't let go. She could feel his scorching sexual magnetism blasting her from across the table as he looked her over. She began drawing oxygen in so quickly that she was almost hyperventilating.

"Calm down, Jessica. The deal we're making won't hurt, I promise. No force, no pain of any kind."

The deal they were making. Not the deal they were trying to make. And instead of comforting her, the word force almost knocked the breath from her. "Are you planning on trying to force me to do anything?" She took three rapid breaths, trying to calm her nerves.

"No, not the way you're thinking, not the way that has you so panicked."

"What--what other way is there?"

His eyes lowered to her lips and then to her throat where his gaze stalled briefly before sliding down to her chest. He raised his eyes back to hers. "Haven't you ever . . . played before?"

Played before? What the hell did that mean? "I don't think so."

"I think you'd know if you had."

"Okay, I haven't."

"But you're not opposed to giving it a try?"

She breathed out a deep sigh as they found themselves back in a big circle. "As long as you don't expect me to do anything with anyone else, and as long as you don't force me to do something, I'll consider anything."

His hands landed on the table as if to shove himself to his feet. "Let's get a room."

Her heart began to hammer triple ti

me. "Just to see my lack of ink, right?"

"Yes. We're not fucking until you get a clean bill of health."

"I don't have any tattoos. Please don't make me do this."

"It's not up for debate. Upstairs."

She stood slowly to her feet and followed him out of the entrance of the bar and over to the front desk. She hung back while he secured a room.

Within minutes, she was riding the elevator up beside him and standing back while he slipped the key card into a door and stood holding it open for her.

The room was nice but basic. As she walked in, there was a bathroom on the right. The room contained two queen-sized beds and a desk with a writing chair and a bureau adjacent to the desk. There was a flat screen television mounted above it. In the far corner of the room sat a comfortable looking armchair with a small side table next to it.

That's where he headed after securing the lock on the door and tossing the room card on the desk. Jessica heard the sibilant hiss of the bolt hitting home as the sound echoed in her ears. She stood completely still as he crossed the room and sprawled in the chair, crossing one booted foot over his knee, and made himself comfortable.

Jessica stood awkwardly between the desk and the foot of the bed closest to the door and farthest away from him. Her insides quaked as she attempted to blank her mind of all thought.

She looked around the room, at the hotel-like artwork on the walls, the air-conditioning unit on the floor in front of the shaded windows. She looked anywhere but at him.

He let out a deep sigh and gave her a verbal nudge. "Now would be a good time."

Her eyes flew to his. "I'm not comfortable with this. I've already shown you my stomach." She turned around and presented him with her back. She lifted her shirt above her bra strap and faced in the opposite direction, her eyes clinging to the door. "There. Not one tattoo. Where else would I have any?" She shoved her shirt back down and turned back to face him.

He stood up and pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. "I suppose we should establish how this relationship will be from the very first moment. I want something from you, I pay for it and you supply it." He glanced over at her. "How much will your books cost in the fall?"

"Around seven hundred," she answered softly, hesitantly. It was seven hundred she hadn't had last semester and an added handicap for her. Every time she'd needed a book, she'd had to beg, borrow, or steal one. She hadn't really thought about stealing a book, though. Stealing someone else's book would have hurt them. But more often than not, borrowing had only worked out about half the time.