The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy, #1)

by Sara Cate

“This isn’t a punishment. It’s an experiment. I watched your parents’ club save lives, and I’m hoping this one will save yours. “One year. That’s all I ask. After the year is up, you can do what you want. “I’m begging you to give it a shot. “Find your family, and make this your home.

After peeking around to make sure no one is watching, I slide a book from the shelf. The spine is pink, and the text is bubbly, and on the cover are a pair of lips blowing bubble gum. Blondie shouts “Call Me” in my ear as I pull a pen out of my back pocket. After another quick glance around, I flick open the front cover of the book and draw a tiny black cat with a spiky mullet blowing a bubble on the inside. It makes me chuckle as I finish the doodle before closing the book and sliding it back into place. The drawings are just something I’ve always done. My father used to call them my little signature.

I won’t settle for a life of contentment with someone else just to have a partner. I want fireworks and magic. I want to stare into someone’s eyes and feel seen. I want to find a soul that matches mine.

Why can’t I take the train to Paris and give this man a letter I found?

Marguerite finally makes her way over to me before placing her hand on her hip, saying, “When were you going to tell me you were applying for other jobs?” Blinking, I shake myself out of it. “Um…I didn’t mean to. It accidentally happened.” “Well, you accidentally got the job. Congratulations.” “Marguerite, I’m sorry,” I say, letting my shoulders melt away from my ears. “I can turn it down.” “Psh,” she says, waving a hand at me. “Look at this place. Does it look like I need you? You’re taking a job in Paris with that man. If you turn it down, I’ll take it.”

I clear my throat before responding. “I can…finish the week.” “Finish the week?” she asks incredulously. “I don’t want you finishing out the day. You need to get home and pack. You’re moving to Paris. Go draw all your little animals there. Leave one on the Eiffel Tower for me.”

What if it’s a kinky sex dungeon and I walk in on something I really shouldn’t see?

One of the naked women has her legs wrapped around a man, her arms hanging around the shoulders of another, and it’s definitely not a dance they’re doing. The man’s thrusts match the sultry beat of the music, and I can just make out their moans from here. It’s salacious without being grotesque or vulgar. In fact, it’s almost beautiful.

This new piece of information about Jack, that he owns a sex club, settled in with shocking ease. Why did I never see it before? Seeing him standing over that girl, shirt off and control etched into his features, suited Jack so well I can’t get the image out of my mind.

I don’t think everything needs to be perfected as a skill. There’s nothing wrong with just enjoying something for the sake of enjoying it. We don't need to become better at it and certainly not perfect. That was a lesson my father ingrained in me.

Besides, rules were made to be broken, right?

Then, to my surprise, he asks, “You want to see what is in there, don’t you?” Staring at the ornate wood of the armoire, I nod. With a hand around my waist, he tugs me gently backward so I’m flush against his body as he grips the handle of the wardrobe and pulls it open. My breath is shaky as I stare into the dark void behind the door.

Boldly, I pull the rope from the hook and let it drape over my fingers. When I think about it wrapped around my wrists, warmth sparks between my legs. As if he can read my mind, he lets out a low, rumbling growl, and my knees grow weak. The warmth in my core blossoms into a burning heat, pulsing between my legs. It’s like a spark of life in parts of my body I didn’t know existed until now.

Dear Jack, You say I don’t belong here, but you are wrong. I do belong here. I don’t know why I came up to your room today, and I don’t know why I opened that armoire, but something was calling me to. What I found today in that room has made me very curious, and I know you are the best person to teach me. Whatever it is, I just want to feel what it’s like. I’ve done my research. I know what it is you enjoy, and I’m not some naive virgin who is afraid of being hurt. I know it doesn’t have to be about sex, so I’m not asking for anything inappropriate. We can keep things innocent. I think you want to teach me. I felt the way you touched me today. I heard the way you reacted. You can deny it all you want, but we both know that this could be good. One thing you should know about me is that I’m stubborn. I don’t give up easily, and I always put up a fight. So the more you push me, the more I push back. The more you try to silence me, the louder I will be. And since you won’t let me speak, this is the only way to reach you. I’m trying to be patient with you. I will give you grace and patience while you work through whatever it is you need to work through, but you and I have more in common than you think. Because I think you’re as stubborn and curious as I am. If you don’t want me to talk to you, that’s fine. I won’t. But I still want to know what those ropes feel like. I want to know what it’s like to let you tie me up in them. I want to know what it feels like to submit. Please....

“Fuck it.”

Camille When I said you don’t belong here, I meant that you are far too sweet and innocent to know what you are asking me to do. And I stand by this assumption. If you think any of this could be accomplished without sex, then you have no idea what it is I would do in these demonstrations. You have no idea who I am or what I like. If you are so certain that I am the man to teach you, then I think you should know what you’re asking. So if you are so curious, then I will tell you now. First of all, you would be naked for me, stripped of every ounce of clothes on your body. Your hair would be braided down your back so it does not get in the way. You would start on your knees for me, blindfolded, and you will not speak unless I tell you to. I would bind your arms and legs in a harness so that you could not move them. You would be completely and utterly bound for me. Every one of your senses would be heightened. Do you understand? You would be at my mercy, Ms. Aubert. I would own you. If you think that would not involve sex, then you don’t know what you are getting yourself into. I’ll be clear so that you understand. When I have you tied up, I will want to fuck you. And when you are tied up for me, you will want me to. In fact, you’ll beg for it. You’ll beg for my cock in your sweet, dripping little cunt. If this letter scares you—good. It’s meant to. I am not a kind or gentle man, Camille. And I’m no fucking teacher. I want you to fully understand what you ask of me because the...

“You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” Silently, I nod, making him crack a smile. It’s the most warmth he’s ever given me, and I’m hungry for more. “You’re playing with fire, you know that? I can’t seem to say no to you, although I should.” His fingers drift away from my lips, but I don’t open my mouth or utter a word. “I am a man of my word, so I will show you. But that’s all. A simple lesson. Anything more would be inappropriate. So we’ll see just how curious you are.” I suck in a breath, forcing myself to remain calm. “Midnight. Upstairs. Understand?” Again, I nod. “Good girl,” he replies, and it has me melting against the cabinets.

There is something soft about him tonight, and it no longer feels as if I’m trespassing into his space. He’s inviting me in. He’s not glowering at me like I’m a nuisance or petulant brat. He’s giving me a calm warmth. This is the Jack I’ve been dying to see.

“I’ve been thinking about what I put in that letter today, and I want you to know that I do not plan on fucking you, Ms. Aubert. It was wrong of me to write that. I am fully capable of showing you what you want to experience while keeping things professional. Understand?” I’m flooded with disappointment, which is a little surprising. Reluctantly, I nod.

“But it doesn’t mean I won’t want to.”

His voice is soothing yet rough, and I find something like peace in his commands. He’s not bossing me around or barking orders at me. He’s giving me guidance, making his instructions easy to follow. Suddenly, I am eager to please.

Now, she’s on her knees, bound and beautiful, and I said I would hold back, but God, I don’t want to. I’d like to show her exactly what it’s like to submit. I’d like to make her body mine.

Dear Jack, What are you so afraid of? If you think because I am your employee and your daughter’s caretaker that I am not also just a woman who feels and desires and craves the same things that any other woman does, then you’re wrong. I know you think it’s inappropriate for us to continue with what we did tonight, but I disagree. If you let me show you, I will prove to you just how good I can be. I can follow orders. I can be submissive. I can draw a line between what we do during the day and what we do at night. As one of your employees, I can keep things professional. I will do my job, and I will do it well. But after dark, I don’t want to be your employee. I want to be the one who submits to you, who kneels, who obeys. If you don’t want sex to be involved, then I can show restraint too—the same way you did tonight. Because I know you have so much more to show me, and I am eager to experience it all. There is no one else I’d be more comfortable with. So I am begging you, please show me more.

Your good girl.

“How do you want me—I mean it. How do you want it? Your coffee I mean,” I stammer, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes. Bea giggles at me as I stumble over my words, and when I glance over at the both of them, I see Jack’s mouth twitch with a threatening smirk.

“Can I take a picture? Just for myself. I mean…of the knots, of course.” I bite my bottom lip tightly to keep from smiling. Staring up through my lashes, I nod. And as he holds it up, the camera pointed at me, my nipples pebble tighter and my panties grow wetter. The thought of him enjoying these photos later or wanting to capture this moment forever ignites a fire inside me. With that, I stick my chest out and let my head hang. If he wants a sexy picture, I’ll give him a sexy picture. He lets out a low growl as I let my knees fall away from each other. “Stop it,” he barks, and I grin wickedly. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” As he leans over until his mouth is near my ear, he adds, “You promised, remember?” Suddenly, I’m flooded with disappointment. I did promise. With a pout, I close my legs. Of course, he’s referring to the promise I made in that letter to keep things strictly professional and show restraint. Tempting him with sexy, spread-leg photos is not showing restraint. “You don’t play fair,” he says

But if being good means not getting what I want, is it even worth it?

Any other woman would have obeyed the basic rules I set—stay out of rooms, don’t pry about my job, don’t ask any questions. Camille broke every damn one, but I’m not nearly as angry as I should be. Instead, I’m fascinated by her. If she wasn’t so fucking cute, maybe I’d have less patience.

As she stands so close, I worry that she can see everything I’m hiding. No matter how cold and closed off I am with her, I fear she can see past all that and will know my secret—that I adore her. Even when I know I shouldn’t.

This is the second time I’ve lurked outside her door in the middle of the night like some kind of creep. Granted, last time I was drunk, but still.

You told me to write down everything I was feeling tonight, so here you go. For reasons I don’t fully understand, I love what we do upstairs in that room. It doesn’t make any sense. Being tied up should be terrible. It should make me feel afraid and panicked, but it’s the opposite. I’m relaxed and at ease, and for that short time, my mind is just quiet. If I were with anyone else, I think I would be afraid. They could hurt me or take advantage of me, and I would feel like a fool for putting myself in that situation. But I know you won’t hurt me. How do I know that? I’m not sure. But I do. I guess what I’m saying is…I trust you. And the only other man I trusted was my father. All little girls should be able to trust their fathers. But then mine died. Which was the most deceitful thing he’s ever done. He left me alone in this world, and now I have no one. So now I’m letting a grumpy American man tie me up in his secret room. This letter has gotten off topic. So I’m definitely going to throw this away and rewrite it in the morning. And since you’ll never read this, I’ll just say… I desperately want to know what it feels like to be fucked while tied up, and I’m sad that you won’t ever let that person be you. God, I hope you never read this.

When a rowdy group of young men board, I feel a hand on my lower back, and I look up at Jack to realize it’s him. He’s holding me close to his body while glaring protectively at the men, and it sends a thrill through my bloodstream.

He tears the blindfold off and forces my chin upward. “Open your eyes, little bird.”

He leans in, nearly touching his forehead to mine as he says, “Use your words, little bird. Let me hear you.”

I’m growing too fond of this woman in my home. I’m aware of it. She is both adorable and sexy all at once, and I haven’t been this attracted to a woman since Em. Taking her on as a bondage sub was a mistake. Thinking I could keep it professional was a joke.

Overcome with desire, I drag her onto my lap. I want to kiss her and fuck her and make her mine forever. I want reckless, foolish things with this woman.

It was never like this with Em. I never felt so depraved and overcome with lust the way I am with Camille. I never felt so close to Em. Camille doesn’t deserve this version of me. She is too pure and beautiful.

I wish I could tell her she’s so much more than that. Not just good. She’s perfect. She’s wonderful. She’s everything.

“We really shouldn’t do this,” he whispers so quietly the words drift off into the darkness. “I don’t care,” I reply. “Neither do I.” With that, he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and drags me forcefully into his arms. We don’t utter a word before our lips crash together.

“I just need to fuck you now.”

As he reaches the hilt, pressed in as far as he can go in this position, he freezes. Lifting his head up a few inches, he stares into my eyes. “We’ve done it,” he whispers. “We crossed the line.” I know we should feel bad about that, but at this point, it feels like a relief. The damage is done. “There’s no going back now,” I reply with a smile. Pulling back, he grinds his hips forward, pressing slowly inside me as he says, “I like breaking the rules.”

It wasn’t just physical pleasure tonight. It was a connection I haven’t felt since Em. Stronger even. And that only makes me feel worse. It’s only been two years since Em died. Isn’t it too soon to feel this way about someone else?

PS: You’re cute when you come.

I’m selfish to be moving on so quickly. All I have to do is keep my word to Camille—no relationship. Just sex and work, and that’s all. I can’t give her my heart, not yet. No matter how much I want to. It still belongs to my wife.

Again, I think that I should be happy about this. This is how they should be. How they probably would be if Emmaline had never died. Of course, this makes me think of the picture again. The smiling woman who thought she had her whole life in front of her. She should be the one sitting here now, watching her husband and daughter in the kitchen. But if she was still here…I wouldn’t be. What a terrible thing to think. But I can’t help it because this moment is so beautiful. And that’s a dangerous idea to let in.

When I say you’re perfect, I don’t mean that perfection defines you. I mean you define perfection.”

“I want to fill you up, little bird,” he proclaims through grunts. “I want you full of my seed. Can I do that?” I’m so close to the edge, and to my surprise, his words have me screaming with arousal so intense, I nearly come already. I know it’s just dirty talk. It must be. But the idea of being bred by him is suddenly so sexy I don’t want it to stop. “Yes,” I scream into the mattress as he fucks me harder. “Keep going. More.” “You like that, don’t you?” he asks with a punishing grip on my hips. “You like the idea of me fucking a baby into you.” “Yes!” I shout. “The thought of your swollen belly makes me so fucking feral for you.” Then he slams in again, hitting a spot inside me that has my toes curling and my body spasming. “You feel that, little bird? You feel how hard that makes me?”

And then my eyes open, and I stare at his left hand as it grips mine. My heart soars as I realize he’s no longer wearing his ring.

He balls up the tissue and tosses it in the trash. Ignoring my argument, he picks up the mascara and unscrews the top. “Hold still,” he says. Then with steady hands and a relaxed expression, he applies the mascara to my right eye. I can hardly move. There’s something so cool and confident about the way he does this, as if he owns me. As if I’m just a thing for him to dress up and play with. And oddly…it calms me. “Look up,” he commands, and I obey. Crowding so close to me that I can feel his breath on my face, he flicks the brush against my lashes. Then his eyes meet mine, and he seems so stern, almost like he’s mad at me. “You are not nobody,” he says again, this time with more conviction. “You are Camille Aubert. You are the headstrong, brilliant, compassionate woman I hired. You are mine. Do you understand why?” My head barely moves back and forth as I shake it. Before answering, he reaches down to the counter and picks up a dark shade of pink lipstick. He pulls off the cap and twists it. Then he takes my jaw in a firm grip, which I take to mean that he’s serious. I stare at his eyes with rapt attention as he leans in and draws the lipstick across my lower lip. “I chose you because you are perfect in every way. You are perfect to me. You are everything I have ever wanted and will ever 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 ...

But when I open my mouth, the most true and honest thing I have comes slipping out. “I love you.” I feel like a coward as her eyes water, and she stares at me as if she’s waiting for the real truth. But that is the truth. I do love her. With my entire heart and probably for longer than I’ve been able to admit, I have loved her. For her flaws and quirks and personality, I adore her so intensely it steals my breath and stops my heart. She walked into my life when I was at my worst and gave me everything I didn’t deserve: patience and grace.