Page 47 of The Roommate Subtext

A half hour later, she lay spent on her bed, high from orgasm endorphins and the mingled pleasure-pain of spanking her sensitive areas with a ruler. Best of all, her brain was quiet. Thought returned slowly, and with it, the buzz of her phone.

You alive over there? he asked. I didn’t kill you, did I?

She smiled at the phone. I’m alive. Alive and hazy with pleasure. He’d kept her on the edge for forever, teasing her until she was losing her mind with it, decision-making dissolving down to need and want.

In the haze of denial, she’d do whatever he asked of her.

Maybe Chauvel’s partner had been like this, too. Maybe she’d gotten desperate enough from edging that she gave up her boundaries. Maybe he’d taken advantage.

You have a dangerous power, she wrote.

He sent a single question mark in reply.

Maybe she shouldn’t tell him, but he probably already knew. When I’ve edged that many times, I’d do pretty much anything you ask.

I know, he replied. I don’t take that lightly.

Chauvel’s partner came to mind again. Have you ever pushed someone too far? she asked.

A long pause. I don’t think so, he wrote. I hope not. Tonight wasn’t too far for you, was it?

No. Tonight was perfect. I was just wondering. She’d been wondering about a lot of things lately.

If she continued down this path, she wasn’t going to be able to write the piece Chauvel wanted. She liked the Pimpernel a lot more than she liked Chauvel, but publishing that article meant they could never meet. Eventually, he’d learn about the exposé, and it wouldn’t take much to deduce the source of her inside information.

But breaking the contract was out of the question. Chauvel had too much over her, and too much over Cora, too, even though Cora didn’t know it.

The Pimpernel was the price she had to pay for their future.

Blake flopped back on his bed. Holy cow, Rose was going to be the death of him. First the actual scene together—when she leaned into the pain and liked it, then holding off and letting him tease her with delay—my god, he was barely able to keep a thought in his head.

Was he crazy to want to meet Rose? He’d been thinking about it a lot lately, even though he hadn’t mentioned it to her. He wasn’t the type to rush into anything, so he couldn’t draw the line between decisive and impulsive. He couldn’t be sure he was thinking clearly.

He needed a friend’s opinion.

Feeling silly, he pulled his phone over and texted Andrew. Would I be foolish to meet Rose in person? Shit, it was late. Andrew might not even be awake.

Andrew’s message came back in a minute, though. Not foolish.

Blake exhaled. Before he could reply, Andrew added another message. Probably don’t do anything until after the gala, though. Go into it with a clear head. And don’t get murdered.

Good idea.

Did Maggie say yes?

It took Blake a moment to process the shift in conversation. For a second, he had transposed Maggie onto Rose, imagining that he was asking Maggie to meet up for some kink play, and his brain blew a fuse. He couldn’t reconcile playful, direct Maggie to the kinky fantasies he’d been having about Rose, even if it was Maggie’s face he kept picturing despite efforts to the contrary.

Yes, she’ll go to the gala. I told her I’d buy her dress.

Andrew sent a GIF of someone laughing uproariously, which was overkill. What? Blake sent in response.

I hope she doesn’t bankrupt you.

Maggie wasn’t like that, and he was grateful. She’s not that kind of person. He didn’t know everything about her, but he was learning more with each day, and he knew she wouldn’t take advantage of him.

Maggie was many things, but at least she was trustworthy.

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