The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2 Page 3

  “No. Just leave me here. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in months. Years.” Ever.

  He drifted for a while, only to stir as his friend picked up his feet and turned him to lie down. A blanket and a pillow and he was slipping fast into la-la land. “You’re a good man, Donnie. The best.”

  “I was hoping you’d be my best man.”

  The thought of standing at the front of the church and watching Donovan and Lilly swear their love for each other twisted like a dozen knives in his stomach. “Sure. What’s the date?”

  “I don’t know yet. She won’t commit to a date until the stained glass commission is completely done. I’m hoping by the end of the year, but it might go into January.”

  “You’re not going to get married in the dead of winter in Minnesota are you?”

  Donovan squeezed his shoulder. “Are you kidding? I’m marrying her as soon as she agrees to a date, whether it’s in the middle of a blizzard or a new ice age or even a tropical storm.”

  Yeah, Jackson could understand that. Not that he’d try to poach his best friend’s fiancée, not really. But there was no way in hell he’d want a woman like that to escape if he’d finally found her.

  If I’d only found her first. Who knew the woman I’d been searching for all my life was right here in St. Paul, Minnesota, under my best friend’s nose.

  Chapter Three

  Lilly dialed the number and waited for the call to go through while she mentally ran through her decision-making process again. On paper, Diana Temple was the best option for Jackson, assuming she was even free and unattached. Lilly hadn’t talked to her in at least a year. But there would be other issues. Deeper than whether or not their kinks matched up. Which could be exactly what he needs to get him off the pills.

  “Dreaming in Ink, this is Diana. How can I help you?”

  “Hey, Diana. It’s Lilly Harrison.”

  A few seconds went by while the woman placed who she was. It’d been a while, but once upon a time, Diana had acted as a sort of mentor for Lilly as she’d moved into BDSM. “Oh, Lilly, of course. Hold on a sec.”

  She heard the murmur of voices, likely Diana asking someone to take over for her so she could head to a more private place to talk.

  “Okay, yeah, what can I do for you?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t have any other number for you than your business.”

  “It’s not a problem. Wow, it’s great to hear from you. What are you up to now?”

  “I met someone. I’m actually engaged to him. That’s why I’m calling. Are you…unattached?”

  Diana snorted. “You mean am I still single and miserable? At least that’s what Mama asks every time I talk to her. Yeah, no boyfriend, not yet. I’ve been too busy here at the shop to even think about it.”

  “What about in the scene?”

  “Single there too. I haven’t been active lately, though. Business has been too good. Why?”

  “My sub has a friend who needs some help. Serious help. I immediately thought of you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “He likes to watch.”

  “Ah. And nobody throws a play party like the Priestess.”

  “Exactly.” Lilly peeked into the living room and checked on Jackson. He was still sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world. Twelve hours and counting. “There are some concerns, though.”

  “There always are. Shoot.”

  “For one thing, he’s extremely wealthy.”

  “How’s that a problem? Hell, bring him over now and I’ll introduce him to Mama as my fiancé. She might get off my back for a month or two.”

  Lilly laughed. “Well, he’s a big shot lawyer out of Chicago. He’s in town for the weekend, maybe more, but he’s not local. Worse, though, he’s got a drug problem. My sub says it’s only amphetamines, not coke or heroin, but it’s still a problem.”

  The other woman blew out a long, deep breath. “You know how I feel about that.”

  Diana’s father had died from a drug overdose. “Yeah. I almost didn’t call for that reason alone. But he needs help. I’m seriously worried about him. He’s been pushing himself for years and years, running on fumes, and he’s at the end of his rope. When he was introduced to me last night and figured out what I am, he almost came unglued. Donovan had to forcibly put him back in his seat. He was that out of control and eager to meet a Mistress.”

  “What kink’s he into?”

  “He doesn’t know, other than he likes to watch. He’s never been in a scene.”

  “Good lord. How old is this guy? Is he legal?”

  Lilly laughed. “Yeah, he’s legal. He’s around my sub’s age, so I’m guessing thirty-eight, thirty-nine years old.”

  “Damn. And he’s never been in a scene?”

  “Donovan says this guy’s married to his job. He works at his mother’s firm and pretty much kills himself for her.”

  “So he has mommy issues.”

  “Probably. I don’t really know much about him other than what my sub has filled in. He’s a workaholic, extremely handsome, filthy rich and dying to meet someone like you.”

  “Lawyer, huh.” Diana hummed softly, a low chant of words that Lilly couldn’t understand. It’s one of the reasons she was known as the Priestess. She sometimes chanted low and deep and soft, like those famous monks. It could be creepy as hell, or oddly exciting, depending on the scene. “I bet he’s stuck in his head. Reason. Logic. His body isn’t even his anymore, completely dead and numbed by all the work and speed he’s been popping. He’ll need some punishment to even remember he has a cock, let alone how to use it. It’ll take me at least a week to get set up for a party. I haven’t hosted in quite a while. But then you and your sub could bring him over, let him see the action and we’ll take it from there, assuming you can get this guy back into town.”

  Lilly pictured Donovan walking around at one of the Priestess’s infamous parties and chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t think that’s going to work. My sub isn’t into any kind of public displays. One of your parties would probably put him in his grave.”

  Diana joined her in laughter. “Oh, come on, that sounds like fun.”

  “He has a very pretty blush, but your party would probably make him burst into flame.”

  Diana roared louder. “Now I have to see this. A grown man who still blushes? You have to promise to bring him over.”

  Still giggling at the thought, Lilly tried to change the subject. “I thought maybe we could do a plain old double date first. You might meet him and decide no way. Or maybe there won’t be any sparks. If it works out, then maybe move on to a party, but it’d have to be pretty low-key if you want Donovan and me to come.”

  The other woman’s laughter died down and a few moments of silence made Lilly grip the phone tighter.

  “Does he know what he’s getting with me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh come on, Lil. You said he’s a big shot lawyer out of Chicago. I’m a tattoo artist covered in ink. I don’t clean up real good.”

  Lilly had to shake her head. It’d been a while since she’d seen Diana, true, but she had a tall, lithe, powerful body with killer legs that went on and on forever. She might even be taller than Jackson, though it’d be close. “You’re kidding, right? You’re one of the most gorgeous women I know. Besides, I haven’t even mentioned you to him yet. I wanted to talk to you first, Mistress to Mistress.”

  “Ah, professional courtesy. I appreciate it. I’m just saying, if he’s high society, my tats may come as a shock. I don’t do high society. I don’t cover up real good either.”

  “No one’s asking you to cover up. Your tats are gorgeous and you know it.”

  “If he doesn’t like tats—”

  “Then he can go fuck himself.”

  Diana choked on something, like she’d taken a dr
ink. “What does your blushing sub think of that dirty mouth?”

  “He loves my dirty mouth. And if Jackson is worth your time, he’ll love your tats. If not, kick him to the curb. You deserve someone who doesn’t give a damn as long as he has you by his side.”

  “And that’s what you found with yours?”

  Tears burned Lilly’s eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Then marry his ass pronto, darlin’, and keep him chained to your bed the rest of his very long and happy life.”

  “I’m working on exactly that. So is it a date?”

  “Yeah.” Diana blew out a sigh. “What the hell am I going to wear to meet a big shot lawyer?”

  “Anything that shows off those legs of yours. I’m not talking formal opera wear here. We can meet at Dmitri’s for dinner tonight if you’re free. Not too fancy. Not too casual. I can come over early and help you pick out something if you’re that nervous and the guys can meet us there.”

  “No, that’s fine. My roommate should be home tonight. She can help me pick out something. Seven?”

  “Let’s go for eight. Jackson’s still asleep and shows no sign of waking up any time soon.”

  “If he ends up mine for the evening, then I can promise you he’ll be flushing whatever pills he’s still got down the toilet one by one while I beat his ass. Speaking of roommate, though, if it does work out for a little playtime, I can’t bring him back here.”

  “He’s got a suite reserved at the Saint Paul Hotel. He was just too wasted to make it back there last night.”

  Diana let out a low whistle. “High society indeed. All right, Lil, I’ll see you tonight.”

  Chapter Four

  “I wish I hadn’t gone atomic red this time.” Diana stared at herself in the mirror doubtfully. “It clashes with all my nicer dresses.”

  “Why are you wearing a ‘nice dress’ anyway?” Her roommate, Arlene Li, leaned against the headboard with an e-reader in her lap. “You look like you’re going to church instead of on a hot date.”

  Truth be told, the purple-flowered dress was her church dress. Letting out a low growl, Diana hauled the ugly thing over her head and threw it on the mountainous heap growing by the closet door. “He’s an attorney.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean he’s dead. It certainly doesn’t scream ‘wear a conservative dress I hate so I don’t offend anyone’. I mean, really, if the guy’s offended by what you’re wearing, do you think he’s the guy for you? You’re a talented artist, running one of the most popular tattoo shops in the Twin Cities. If he doesn’t like you, the real you, then screw him.”

  “That’s what Lilly said too. I know, I know, you’re right. But torn jeans and leather don’t seem like appropriate first-date attire for a rich lawyer.”

  “Jeans, probably not, at least not if you’re going to Dmitri’s. I haven’t been there in ages, but I don’t remember it being a jeans kind of restaurant. What’s wrong with your leather miniskirt?”

  “Leather? Seriously? Maybe I should wear my motorcycle jacket too.”

  “Sure, why not? Your legs go on for miles when you wear that skirt.” Arlene slid off the bed and rummaged around in the closet. “Here, these boots. They’re totally you and they’ll knock him dead.”

  Black with a chunky three-inch heel, the thigh-high boots were fetish Goth wear all the way with bright red laces and heavy buckles. “You want me to wear this. To Dmitri’s. On a double date with some billionaire and his lawyer.”

  “Yeah.” Arlene came back out of the closet with a short red-and-black plaid skirt instead of the leather mini. “With this. A twisted play on the schoolgirl look. It’d be hilarious if you put your hair in ponytails too.”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “Try it, please. Look, this guy’s from some Ivy League school, right?”

  “Probably. I don’t really know.”

  “A uniform will kill him, especially if you mix it with some of your Dominatrix elements. Maybe a corset underneath a simple white shirt. This skirt will highlight your legs. Then wear the motorcycle jacket over it all. Skip the ponytails, though, unless you really want to freak him out.”

  “Freak him out? You’re freaking me out! I can’t wear fetish clothes to Dmitri’s!”

  “Why not? Isn’t that where we met for dinner that time with Lilly and some of the other Dommes? Seems like we were all pretty far out there with our clothes and no one batted an eye. If I remember right, the owner’s Lilly’s friend. He welcomed our kinky asses with open arms.”

  Grumbling, Diana pulled on the schoolgirl skirt, her favorite black and red latex bustier, with a white Oxford-style shirt over it, unbuttoned deep enough to reveal what she wore underneath. Arlene pushed her down on the bed and tackled her blazing red hair with a straight iron until it framed her face, smooth and sleek.

  “Nice,” Arlene said, standing back. “Now just a little makeup. Black eyeliner to stay true to your Goth side, smudged for the bedroom look, and bright red lipstick. Everything else clean and simple. You want to look like a badass schoolgirl. Not slutgirl. There.”

  Arlene stepped back and Diana stared at herself in the mirror. “Wow.”

  “Told you.” Smirking, she gave a nod to the black leather jacket. “Put that on and stand up. Let’s get the full picture.”

  Diana had to admit she made a pretty badass schoolgirl. “How do you do that?”

  Arlene shrugged and sauntered over to pick up her e-reader. “You have to think about men’s fantasies and then twist them. It’s like all the idiots who think I’m just a delicate lotus flower or call me geisha. It pisses me off. I’m not even Japanese, damn it! But it’s a fantasy, an expected stereotype. I twist it to suit me and dress in a little silk—because I like it. Not because of some stupid assumptions. Then I’ll tie them up and torture them with swords like a ninja. It gets them off and hopefully teaches them a lesson at the same time even though it’s still a stereotype. It’s not the expected one. No, I’m not some meek and mild little Asian woman willing to wash your back and massage your feet. In fact, you’d better get your ass over here and kiss my feet before I cut off a body part. In the end, it’s still just a fantasy, but it satisfies me at the same time.”

  Twirling enough to watch the skirt flutter about her hips, Diane frowned. “Those boots make me almost six feet tall. What if he’s short?”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, why do you care? So what if he’s short? The quicker you’ll put him on the floor.” Arlene wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed, searching her face in the mirror. “What’s up with you? The Priestess isn’t usually this self-conscious.”

  “For one thing, the Priestess hasn’t played in over a year.” She sighed, noting exactly how tall she was compared to her petite friend. “And Mama’s really been after me lately, at least when she remembers who I am. I mean, this is the kind of guy I could gladly take home to meet her. He’s not going to look like my normal crowd, you know? No punk, Goth rock band wannabe druggie as she’d call them. He’s a loaded handsome guy according to Lilly with a lucrative, powerful job. Mama would shit her pants to even think he’d be interested in me.”

  “So?”

  “What if this is my only chance and I totally blow it?”

  “Okay, I get the whole pressure from the parents thing. If I took a lawyer home to meet Mom and Dad, they’d never nag me for a thing ever again. Well, other than bearing him a bunch of babies. I get it. I do. But you can’t put so much pressure on yourself. This guy might be a total douche. Or he might be a real gem. You just don’t know. So it’s ridiculous to worry about your tats or your height or your gorgeous red hair because honey, you are gorgeous. You’re strong and powerful and, usually, extremely confident. If he can’t see that, he’s not the man for you no matter how loaded and fabulously handsome he is. If he’s so insecure he can’t bear the thought of dating a woman who’s a little taller than
him, then you’ll be bored to tears before the dessert course rolls around.”

  “Ha, you remembered. Lilly always has to get dessert.”

  “What do you always say? About your tats?”

  Diana stroked the crown tattooed on the inside of her left wrist. “Men come and go, but ink is forever.”

  “Damned right.”

  Chapter Five

  “Are you sure she knows where this place is?” Jackson scanned the restaurant again, even though he had no idea what his blind date looked like other than Lilly’s description. A tattoo artist with a punk edge and legs to die for. “We should have picked her up.”

  “She’s been here before, and no, she needs the ability to leave on her own if she’s not interested.” Lilly sipped her wine and didn’t even look at the door. “Standard operating safety procedures.”

  To say he was both grouchy and uptight was the understatement of the year. Coming down from the amphetamine was always difficult. Combine that with a few beers the night before and the sleep-dulled haze that had fogged his brain most of the evening, and it was all he could do not to snap like an angry bear dragged out of hibernation in the middle of a blizzard. He’d managed to clear the brain fog with about a gallon of espresso, but now he was jumpy as hell. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Lilly said with a hard look, “that this is about her. Not you. She doesn’t know you from Adam. If she doesn’t like what she sees or hears, at any time, she’s out of here, no questions asked.”

  Which only made his anxiety rise to a crushing flood. “I should have insisted on wearing the suit, then. She’s going to take one look at these casual clothes you and Donnie picked out and turn on her heel for the door.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Lilly retorted. “A stiff shiny suit is the last thing she cares about. Trust me, Jackson. I want her to be comfortable, not you, and that means a little more casual clothes, okay? I told you she’s already concerned about what you’ll think of her.”