Chapter Eight #2
“No,” he whispered. He would have gone home and locked himself in his bedroom in mortification. Buried himself in coursework to try and forget. And he doubted he would have shown his face in the club again.
Vincent nodded, then straightened when there was another knock, falling silent as their first course was set out for them.
He continued once they were alone again.
“Begging to continue afterwards isn’t all that uncommon.
Especially if someone feels they disappointed their Dom, temporary or not.
I took the chance you were begging for your own sake rather than mine. ”
Jasper poked at his salad, which contained pears, goat cheese, and honey drizzle.
Was this really how rich people ate? There was silence for a bit as he ate his salad and Vincent his lobster bisque.
The salad was, surprisingly, really good.
“Sorry,” he finally said. “I still don’t really know how all this works. ”
“Another reason I didn’t end it. I was glad you remembered you could safeword.”
Jasper peered at Vincent, watching him as their plates were switched out for the next course. Once the server was gone, he said, “You’re really not as big of a dick as some people make you out to be, are you?”
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Try saying that again in two months.”
Jasper grinned, unbothered by the implication he was going to sign the contract. “Okay.”
Vincent nodded towards the envelope. “Take it and think it over. I’ll have a new one waiting with your limits included.”
“Okay,” Jasper said again and took a bite of spaghetti—the only thing on the menu he knew he’d like—and bit back a soft moan.
Damn. That was amazing. No wonder Vincent liked this place.
He buttered a piece of crusty bread and glanced at Vincent’s plate—some kind of fancy dish with duck.
He resisted wrinkling his nose, though he had to wonder if Vincent’s tastes in kink were as particular as his taste in food.
“So,” he said, then realized he didn’t have anything to say. What kind of conversation were you supposed to have with a guy who’d fucked your brains out twice before you had an actual date?
Vincent raised an eyebrow expectantly, his lips twitching with what Jasper hoped was amusement. “Yes?”
Jasper shoved another forkful of spaghetti in his mouth to buy some time. “You own the club, right?” Amber mentioned it when he’d asked about club membership.
“Yes,” Vincent said, and Jasper was sure it was amusement this time.
“How’d you get into it? The kink thing.”
Vincent didn’t respond immediately, dipping his own piece of bread in his duck sauce. “It’s been a need ever since I was a kid and played doctor with my babysitter.”
Jasper blinked and sat up, beyond curious. “How?” He almost imagined a young Vincent pinning his babysitter down and kissing them, but his brain shied away from it.
“When she was on her back for me to operate, I felt this rush of power and control. It wasn’t until I was older and experimented with sex that I was able to put a name to it.”
“That’s… like it was when you had me in the chair,” Jasper admitted quietly, poking at the last bit of his spaghetti. “I was finally experiencing something I’d only been able to imagine until then.” And his imagination had fallen short.
“You’ve never been held down?”
Jasper shrugged, hating the hint of surprise he heard in Vincent’s voice. “Not like that. Nothing even close to that.” He’d never known how to ask.
The server returned to refill their drinks and bring their desserts, and Jasper dug into his chocolate gelato, unable to stifle his moan this time. He glanced up briefly, shifting in his seat when he caught Vincent watching him.
“I’m glad I could make your first brush with kink enjoyable,” Vincent said, and despite the genuine warmth, there was definitely amusement in his voice.
The evening ended far too quickly after that, and Vincent rode next to him in the back seat to take him home. He’d hoped to end up in Vincent’s bed, or at least at the club, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen until he decided to sign or not.
The fact Vincent finally gave Jasper his number at least made up for the lack of sex. Almost.
The car stopped out front, and Jasper started to get out, freezing when Vincent caught his arm.
Vincent tugged him close, pressing his lips to Jasper’s ear. “If you do decide to sign, can you handle not getting off until I see you next?”
Jasper shivered, glancing back at Vincent. There went his plans of at least getting himself off as soon as he was in bed, but he found he didn’t mind. The idea of holding back because Vincent wanted him to made his stomach do weird and pleasant things.
“Maybe,” he finally answered. He closed the distance between them, Vincent’s kiss sending shocks of pleasure through his body. He melted beneath the onslaught of Vincent’s tongue, blinking when the kiss ended and Vincent pulled away.
“Good night, Jasper.”
Jasper swallowed a whine. The way Vincent said his name sent a burst of heat through his gut. “Night, Vincent,” he replied with a wink.
When he reached the front door, he glanced back to wave, and the car pulled away.
Despite the movie playing on the TV, it was obvious Keith and Terrance were waiting for him. Jasper might have been annoyed if he wasn’t intimately familiar with the alternative: A dark house, either empty or with a drunken father passed out on the couch to sneak past.
Terrance immediately muted the sound when Jasper stepped into the room. “How’d it go?”
“Okay, I think,” Jasper replied, pulling out the contract and handing it over. He sank into the recliner and watched both of them read it.
After a couple of minutes, Keith handed it back. “Well, it’s a good start for a test run, if that’s what you want. Anything else that needs to go in it will make itself known with experience.”
Jasper breathed a sigh of relief and took it back, then read it again himself. “You think I should sign?”
“Only one who can answer that is you,” Terrance replied. “You definitely seem to like him, though God knows why,” he added, wincing as Keith smacked him in the chest.
“Two months isn’t that long to test the waters,” Keith said.
“But what if after the first couple weeks I realize it’s not what I want?”
“Then if Vincent is as good as you think he is, he’ll realize it too, and you’ll figure something out,” Keith replied, as if that should have been obvious. “It’s not like it’s legally binding. It’s between the two of you.”
Jasper bit his lower lip and stared at the contract another minute, finally putting it back in the envelope.
He told himself he needed to think about it, and he did, but he couldn’t come up with a single reason not to do this.
He liked Vincent. He liked what Vincent did to him, how Vincent made him feel.
They may not have had much interaction outside of the two nights in the club and dinner, but they seemed to get along well enough.
TWO DAYS later, he texted Vincent.
I’ll sign
The response came a few minutes later.
Car will pick you up Friday night at 6. If you sign when you get here, you’ll stay until Sunday morning.
Two days.
Two days for Vincent to do whatever he wanted with him.
Jasper couldn’t wait.
WHEN THE car pulled up in front of Vincent’s home on Friday evening, all Jasper could do was stare.
It was a large two-story house in a nice neighborhood with a well-kept lawn.
Flowers and bushes lined the walkway leading to the door.
It wasn’t as monstrous as Amber’s house, but it was obviously meant for someone wealthy and classy.
If the club ownership, personal driver, and restaurant hadn’t screamed insanely rich, this place certainly did. All except for the large horrendously bright pink plastic flamingo near the porch.
The driver opened the door, and Jasper took a steadying breath as he climbed out and hooked his small duffel bag over his shoulder. Vincent had sent a text saying he wouldn’t need anything, but he’d brought a change of clothes and his toothbrush just in case.
He rang the doorbell, eyeing the pink flamingo near the tall fluffy bushes to the left of the door. He fidgeted with his shirt until the door opened. Then he blinked.
Vincent had an apron on. That was so… so… hot.
Jasper couldn’t help but stare, ignoring the frown Vincent gave his bag. “Hi,” he said, stepping inside.
“Shoes off. You can put your bag on a chair,” Vincent said, turning and heading into the kitchen.
Jasper closed the door behind him, toed his shoes off next to Vincent’s, and trailed after him.
He dropped his bag onto a chair in the living room, noting the wood floors and elaborate entertainment center.
There was a nice collection of movies and games neatly lined up on the shelves beneath the TV, along with at least two of the latest gaming consoles.
He turned and continued through the living room, dragging his fingertips over the back of a dark gray sofa.
This entire part of the house was the living room, dining room, and kitchen.
Instead of walls, the only thing separating them was a large island between the kitchen and living room.
“You’re cooking?” he asked when he reached the kitchen.
He leaned against the island counter to keep out of the way.
Vincent wasn’t wearing his usual suit. He had on black jeans and a mid-sleeve Henley, his feet socked. “You sound surprised.”
Jasper shrugged at Vincent’s back. “I never thought of you as the cooking type.”
“Your mistake.”
Jasper snorted and rolled his eyes. “Need some help?”
“So you can blow up my kitchen?”
“I know how to cook,” Jasper replied, only mildly offended. Well, at least enough to know not to put soup on High and wander away for an hour. He raised an eyebrow when Vincent glanced at him with a dubious expression. “I’m not supposed to lie, remember?”
That seemed to convince Vincent. At least a little. “There’s cheese bread in the freezer. The oven is ready.”
Jasper found the bread and set the slices out on the pan to pop them into the oven. Then he actually saw what Vincent was making. “Spaghetti?” he asked, unable to stop the grin. “You mean you haven’t taken expensive cooking classes and know how to make a seven-course meal?”
“I wouldn’t waste the effort on someone who orders spaghetti at a Michelin star restaurant.”
Jasper blinked, thrown off guard more by the casual tone than the words.
“There’s the dick I was warned about,” he murmured, moving back to the island.
He knew he was so far below Vincent’s status it was laughable, but for some reason he hadn’t thought Vincent cared about that.
Then again, once the clothes came off, who could even tell the trash from the elite?
“Is that why you always keep your suit on?” Jasper asked, crossing his arms on the granite countertop. “To remind your pets of their place?”
Vincent didn’t respond, but his shoulders tensed as he continued cooking.
For the first time, Jasper almost wondered if Matt was right. Maybe he was making a mistake. But maybe Vincent hadn’t meant that to sound as scathing as he had.
Jasper didn’t like the silence. It almost felt like Vincent was trying to avoid saying anything else in case it was as abrasive as the last. Or maybe he was as nervous to have someone in his home as Jasper was to be there.
He snorted softly at the thought. Yeah, right.
When the timer went off, he snagged the dish towel off the oven handle to grab the tray and transferred the bread to a plate, then decided that if Vincent was going to be a shit host, Jasper would fend for himself.
He opened the fridge to find a drink and paused.
Not only was it neatly organized, most of the fruits and vegetables were arranged in stackable glass dishes.
“There’s tea in the pitcher.”
“Oh, so you can still speak,” Jasper muttered under his breath. He pulled the pitcher out and poured two glasses.
Vincent filled two plates with spaghetti and set them on the table, glancing at Jasper as he sat. “What’s in your bag?”
“A change of clothes. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Deodorant.” He’d almost brought his schoolwork, but he’d managed to finish what little homework was due next week before the car picked him up.
He settled across from Vincent, stirred his spaghetti a bit, and took a bite.
It was good. Almost as good as the restaurant’s.
He could taste the fresh garlic and basil.
“You made the sauce yourself, didn’t you? ”
“Is that a guess?”
“No,” Jasper replied with a grin. “But I thought you weren’t going to waste the effort on me?”
“Spaghetti sauce is a far cry from a seven-course meal.”
Jasper laughed, relieved when the tension between them finally disappeared. “It’s good.” The silence that fell as they ate was comfortable at least. He resisted getting seconds in case Vincent tied him upside down tonight, instead sitting back in his chair and sipping his tea.
Vincent stood and cleared the table. He returned a minute later with a fresh contract and pen and placed them in front of Jasper. “Any questions?”
Jasper set his glass aside, taking a slow breath as he leaned forward. “All this includes sex, right?”
“Do you want it to?”
“Yes.” Gods, yes.
“Then yes.”
Jasper shivered and nodded as he picked up the paper. Vincent put away the leftovers while Jasper read the contract. It was exactly like the one he’d left at home, except this one had his limits listed.
He took another breath and signed.