Page 108 of The Good Girl Effect
“I chose you because you are perfect in every way. You are perfectto me. You are everything I have ever wanted and willever want, and I chose you as my date tonight because as long as you are in the room, I see no one else. Understand?”
I can hardly move. Tears prick behind my eyes, stinging as I fight off the urge to cry. I know he means this in the kinkiest way, but now I know he feels this way romantically too.
The idea that I mean this much to anyone is overwhelming. I want to mean the world to Jack. I want to mean what Emmaline meant to him, and I know that’s wrong of me, but I do.
His grip tightens. “Tell me you understand.”
I force myself to swallow. “I understand,” I whisper.
“Good girl,” he says, and the warmth of that phrase slides down my spine like honey.
He finishes my lipstick, applying it to the top lip. Once it’s done, he stares down at my mouth with a mischievous look.
“I’d like to see this color smeared across my cock.”
My belly ignites with heat at his filthy words. Rubbing my lips together, I fight a smirk as I reply, “I think that can be arranged.”
With a dashing smile, he presses his lips to my neck, inhaling my scent. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he softly states, “Tonight, I want to show you off.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you did my makeup then,” I reply with a laugh.
He pulls away. “No, I mean on stage.”
My eyes widen as every muscle in my body tenses. “What?”
“Just a simple suspension. You do it all the time.”
I swallow. Sure, I’ve done a demonstration at the club, but never a suspension before. There’s a difference. Suspensions require more focus and strength.
“If you don’t want to, I understand.” He leans and whispers in my ear. “But I think you owe it to yourself to prove that you’re not a nobody.”
As he pulls away, I narrow my eyes at him. “That wasn’t fair.”
He chuckles, leaving the bathroom. I fight back a smile at hearing his laughter as I quickly clean up my makeup, chucking the items in the makeup bag.
I know he’s right. I belong in that club as much as the next person, and with as many suspension positions as we’ve been trying lately, I know we could do it. And honestly, why not?
“I’m excited for you to see it,” Jack says from the back seat of the car. He squeezes my leg gently before intertwining our fingers and pulling me to him for a kiss.
“I have seen it,” I reply.
“No, I mean…done. In action,” he says. Tonight, he looks like a man on top of the world. In that black-on-black suit with a gold watch band on his wrist and expensive cuff links, he appears almost godly.
And he’s mine.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Camille.
There are a lot of hurdles to jump before I can start saying things like that.
As we turn the corner onto the club’s street, I notice the line of limos and black cars parked along the side. Attendants in white valet uniforms open the doors, and well-dressed men and women climb out of each car, walking up to the entrance of the club.
It’s nothing like the mess of people I found out here the first time I came, partiers drunk in the street.
Jack eyes the building appraisingly as we pull up. Someone opens the door for Jack first, and he steps out before coming to my side and opening mine for me. I take his hand as he leads me onto the pavement as if I’m suddenly the celebrity here.
There are no cameras or crowds. It’s all very discreet yet classy.
“Bonsoir, Monsieur St. Claire,” the man says as he pulls open the door of the club for us.
