Nicolas pulls me up off the couch. And wrapped his arms around me in a gut-wrenching hug.
"Thank you" He sounded very relieved.
This spiked my curiosity, why was he so relieved? Does he want me to live with him that bad? Has he ever been turned down before? Has there ver been a 'before'? I have absolutely no idea. I want to ask, but am scared for his answer. Knowing deep down that a man who wants to go this fast and get me to move in and who fucks like he does, has to have some serious experience and must have done this before.
"This is the kitchen..." He says snapping me out of my reverie.
The kitchen has black cabinetry with a white speckled counter top. Large in size with a huge breakfast bar in the center. A dream kitchen, to bad I can't cook. I sigh, I wish I could cook.
"What is it?" He asks sounding concerned.
I look up at him and smirk. "It's a lovely kitchen, if I only knew how to use it." I laugh.
He laughs in response, a beautiful sound. "Well good thing I know how to cook then." He pulls me over to another pair of french doors into a huge dinning room, complete with a long rectangular table and white leather chairs surrounding it. It could sit at least 12 people around it comfortably.
"Wow!" I exclaim, shocked again at how beautiful this house is, my new house is...
We only briefly stay in the dinning room before he is motioning me to follow him down another hallway. This is a large apartment.
"This is another bedroom, with bath. And this is the library." He points.
My jaw drops open, a library! I release his hand for the first time since leaving the bedroom and run to open the door to the library. There are 4 floor to ceiling book shelves surrounding the room, filled with books. Some comfortable looking seats in the center of the room with a medium size table and lamp in between them. Heaven. I love to read and can totally picture myself cozying up on one of the chairs with good book.
"This is amazing" I say peeling my eyes away from the most outrageously awesome room I have ever seen, to look at Nicolas. He seems intrigued and amused by my reaction.
"What?" I ask.
"So you're a reader?" He asks chuckling.
I shrug, "You could say that."
"Interesting." Is all he replies.
He exits room and I take one last look and follow him back into the hallway. We are now at the end of the hall and there is one door left. Curiosity burning, through me as I wonder what lies behind this door. He doesn't open it or explain it right away like he did with the rest of the rooms in the apartment. He is nervous, looks to be gauging my reaction carefully.
"What is it?" I push, unable to contain my curiosity.
He takes a deep breathe. "My Playroom..." He says, avoiding my eyes, as he opens the door to a dark room.
Playroom? What does that mean? I enter the room and he turns on the lights, they are dim but once my eyes adjust I stop dead in my tracks. The room in front of me is painted completely black, with red carpeting and many pieces of odd furniture surround the room. There is bench with cuffs on each end, a large cross of the wall with ties hanging down, a large four poster bed in the center of the room. And a ominous chest of drawers at the other end, and still many other pieces of furniture I cannot describe and have no idea what they are for. I swallow loudly. It smells of lemon and leather.
"What is this room for?" I ask, nervously. My brain is coming up with many fantasies that could be fu-filled inside of this room full of what looks like torture devices. I have always secretly wanted to be tied up, spanked, and controlled. I had never told anyone that, never even admitted to myself, until now. There was no reason to be ashamed, obviously I wasn't the only person on the planet who liked these thing, especially if he has this room of torture devices inside his house, right? I'm not crazy, or weird, or insane. At least that is what I am telling myself.
He gazes down at me, watching intently as I think through this room, how I think of my fantasies. I'm assuming he is waiting for my reaction to be clear on my face. What is my reaction? I want to be disgusted, and I want to run for the hills and never return. But then I would never have the chance to live my wildest dreams. I would be lying, not only to Nicolas, but to myself, if I said I didn't completely love this room.
"Well?" I urge, trying to sound curious, nonchalant, and uninterested.
He swallows hard, licks his now parted lips, as if looking for the right words. A pool of wetness forms, down there. Just at watching his beautiful mouth, thinking of what he can do with it, especially in this room.
"This is my playroom, it is for both my pleasure and yours, yet can also be used for pain and punishment, when necessary." He explains, turning his face into an unreadable mask. It's like in that one instance he went from vunerable, nervous young man, to confident, striking business man. I am dizzy.
"I don't know what to say..." I say honestly, breaking the awkward silence.
"Well, I am sure you have questions, concerns, and fears." He says blatantly.
Hmm, questions, Yes. Concerns, Kinda, more about what this means and how many women has he done this to in the past. Fears? I hadn't thought of that, I don't feel scared at all, I am excited, turned on, and very wet. But, scared? No, for some strange reason I know I need to be scared and should be, but standing this close to Nick, I feel safe, secure and protected.
He breaks the silence this time, his impatience winning out over the confident business man composure. "What are you thinking? Please you're killing me." He pleads.
I smile. "I do have some questions, and concerns." I say, trying my best to match his unreadable expression from before.
"In that case, please ask away." He says, leaning up against the wall. He looks nervous and tense like he is scared of what questions I may have. But he looks so unbelievably sexy standing there, with just fucked hair, and wrinkled shirt. This lighting really does make him look mysterious, like a sex-god. He is very distracting. I have completely lost my train of thought.
"Um... do you mind if we talk out there? Not here?" I ask, knowing that I won't get much talking done in here, all I want right now is to be naked with this man. I swallow, biting my lip.
He nods briskly, his eyes darkening, and leaves the room. I follow him. As soon as I leave sexy room, I feel a pang of disappointment. I try to bury that feeling deep, needing all of my usual emotional control, that I have built up over the years.
I follow Nick all the way back to the grand living room and sit back down on the couch from before. He turns and angles his body towards me. Just looking at him is making me wetter and wetter- Focus April! I think to myself as I clear my throat awkwardly.
"So, um... I don't know how to start."
"Well, why don't you ask the first question that comes to mind, and we can go from there." He answers, nervously. His confidence all gone, once again.
"How many have there been?" I blurt out, it is the question that has been eating away at me since I got here.
He looks at me confused.
"How many girls have you done this too?" I repeat, more clearly.
His brow furrows deeper. "What do you mean? How many submissive's have I had? Or how many woman have I fucked?" He asks, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"How many women have you brought home, fucked, and then demand that they live with you?" I ask.
"None, except you. You are the only woman I have ever brought home and fucked, at least before a contract is signed. I don't do vanilla, baby. Never, but for some reason you got me to break my rule. And I have never begged someone to live with me either, I have had submissive's live with me in the past but I never personally asked them to live with me, they just signed the contract." He says, rather fast. He seems embarrassed by the fact that he is doing all this for me and explaining this.
I am in complete shock.
"When you say submissive, do you mean what I think you mean?" I ask, remember the research I have done on this subject in the past, in my fantasies.
He laughs, "I have no idea what you're thinking, April." He says.
"Do you mean a person who obeys your every command, who works to please you in any way possible, sexually and not?" I ask sounding matter of fact.
He looks utterly shocked. "Yes that is what I mean... How do you know?"
"I have done research on the subject Mr.Merinor." I say waving him off, nonchalantly.
"How many subs have you had in the past?" I ask.
He recovers from his shock, and answers. "Eleven."
Now i'm shocked, Eleven! I feel like someone just hit me with semi-truck. My heart sinks into my stomach. I have to hold back the tears that suddenly want to burst out of my eyes. What is wrong with me, I never cry. Ever.
"Um.... So your a dominant then?" I reply, my voice cracking. Hopefully it isn't so noticeable that I am about to burst into tears.
He looks at me in concern, "Yes." I all he says.
"Why me?"
He furrows his brow once more, looking like this question took him off guard. "Well, I am attracted to you, April. You are beautiful, and I, for some reason, feel the need to protect you. Like I have never felt before. When I saw your boss about to hit you it took all I had not to beat him to a pulp. I also have this feeling of need, to please you, which I guess is why I felt the need to pleasure you in the car, and fuck you in my bedroom, which I never do. You have this effect on me that I don't understand." He replies.
I sit there shell-shocked. This man is attracted to me? Wants me? What? I can't stop myself from lurching forward into his shocked arms. My lips meeting his and frantically fisting my hands into his hair. He reciprocates after a moment, ad we continue into sweet oblivion, right there on the couch.