Page 55 of Role Play
He didn’t say anything, simply stared at the sheets of paper in his hand and made a soft “hmm”sound.
“It’s what I call all mysubs.”
“And…that’ssupposed to make itbetter?”
He nodded. “I see your point. The nickname is really important, though. We need a term of endearment that I use for you in the bedroom. It helps differentiate when it’s playtime and when we’re back to reality. It’s not as important for subs I only see at the club, but since we work together, I have a feeling those lines might blur a little more than I’m usedto.”
I had nothing against pet names… it just couldn’t bethatone. “I’m not telling you we can’t use a nickname. What about baby girl instead of sweetgirl?”
His face drained of color, his jaw going slack. Tensed fingers tightened over the ring on his pinky finger. “No. I-I can’t usethat.”
My stomach tightened. Poor Ash. Whoever owned that ring before him must have been hisbaby girl. I nodded, feeling my brows dip in concern. “So… something elsethen.”
His tanned chest rose with a deep breath. “What about… Shorty.” Color returned to his face, painting his cheeks a rosy-tan color, and his lips turned back into a half-grin.
“Shorty,” I repeated, rolling the name around in my mouth. “I kind of like that.” It wasn’t too feminine or cutesy. Or overtly sexualized like other nicknames.It feels like me.Like the kind of nickname that could be sexy in the bedroom, but you could also use in public without it calling too muchattention.
He scribbled some notes on the paper. “Good.” Then, tapping the pen on the table, he murmured, “If nothing else stood out to you about myrules—”
“Money,” I blurted out. “I’m not accepting your money to pay forstuff.”
“Why don’t we take that on a case by casebasis?”
“I don’t see a case where I would accept.” I moved to cross my arms, only I was met with the bare flesh of my nipples and felt myself flush. Crossing your arms just didn’t have the same effect when you werenaked.
“I make more money than you,” he said bluntly. “It says nothing about your talent or status… it’s just the truth because I’ve been at the company and in this business longer. I know what assistants make at Silhouette because I used to be one. So, if we continue our scenes and extend it out into public—dinners, drinks at LnS, that sort of thing, thenIampaying.”
A knot lodged in my throat. “It seems really unlikely that either of us will want to extend thispublicly.”
Silence. His eyes were locked onto the sheet of paper. Finally, he looked up at me, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Why do you saythat?”
I shrugged. “It just seems like we each have a lot to lose if this getsout.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Not if we sign the consentcontract.”
Ah, touché. “Fine. In the unlikely event that we continue this relationship outside of tonight, you can sometimes pay for dinners and drinks. But I’m not accepting a clothingbudget.”
His mouth twisted when I used the word ‘relationship’ but he said nothing. “As I said, let’s take this on a case by case basis. It might be a mootpoint.”
“Exactly. If it’s a moot point, then why are we discussinganyofit?”
“Jesus, Lucy. It’s notalla mootpoint.”
Except right now in that moment… it did all feel like a moot point. If neither of us wanted to be seen in public with the other, what was the point? Unless, I was kidding myself that I could keep this casual. Keepanyrelationship casual—particularly one with a person I worked with and had to see daily. There was a reason why Uncle Richard was trying to limit the amount of inter-office relationships… practically an impossible feat inHollywood.
Oh, God. Anxiety rose from the pit of my stomach. A looming fear of another person in my life controlling me, choosing what was important and what wasn’t. I felt that swell of panic that I couldn’t quite describe or put into words why it was soparalyzing.
I needed this contract conversation to stop. It was triggering me… and all I wanted was a fucking orgasm. All I wanted was to finally feel a release and explore this side of me that I always knew existed and never let myself open up to. And if we kept up this conversation about contracts and language and what was moot and what wasn’t, I was going to chicken out. At any moment, I was going to run for that door, get in my car and never look into Ash Livingston’s stunningly blue eyesagain.
I had to act. And fast. As Ash continued talking about the contract, I hit my pen with my elbow, sending it careening off the table and rolling under. And just for good measure, I nudged it with my toe so it rolled farther. “Oops,” I said, then scooted the chair back and crawled under the table to getit.
Ash noticed, but didn’t seem to think anything of it. Above, I could still hear the flipping sound of ruffling papers. I left the pen where it sat on the floor, taking a moment to breathe in how utterly gorgeous he was from the waist down. Even sitting there beneath the table—legs spread, cock hard. Balls tight and drawn up toward hisbody.
“You all right downthere?”
“Yep, I got it,” I said. Then licked my lips, and as silently as I could, I crawled beneath the table toward him. I was an entirely helpless moth to his flame and he was calling to me, beckoningme.
I reached him and didn’t hesitate. If I was down here much longer, he would no doubt peek under the table and find me there, staring at him, my nose practically in hisgroin.
