Becoming His

Hi all! Welcome back to another installment of "Becoming His." This work is novel-style, so here are some links to previous parts if you're new here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

This story is an age gap erotic romance with BDSM themes between 18-year-old Lila and Cameron, her stepfather's coworker. In the last chapter, Cameron gave Lila a taste of what to come with a spanking. In this chapter, things are getting a lot spicier... about a third of the chapter is sexy stuff! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope that you will enjoy the result!

***

Friday, the day of Robert's birthday party, dawned bright and clear. The balloon delivery arrived at nine in the morning, and Lila found herself occupied with shepherding them in bunches about the house, while her mother ran around like a headless chicken getting things in order. Robert had gone to work and wasn't due back until five thirty, a half hour before the other guests were slated to arrive.

In the spare moments when she wasn't balancing precariously on chairs, boxes, or a combination thereof to drape festoons about the various rooms, Lila stole away to her own room, where she had begun work on a new project. The thought had come to her at three AM the previous morning, when she had woken up and found herself unable to get back to sleep. Sitting on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom in her underwear, she had looked down at the scars scoring the insides of her thighs, lit in shades of black and white and silvery gray.

She had thought about light and dark and everything Cameron had said about her work, and she snapped a photo. It was a raw thing, an intimate thing, deeply personal. At that moment, she couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone else. But she had begun to block it out on a sprawling piece of canvas, so large that she and her flaws would be magnified almost double the size of life.

She would have been more comfortable painting it in miniature, but lately she had felt that it was a growing time, a time to push herself beyond comfort, in more ways than one.

She hadn't seen Cameron since Wednesday evening, and it felt like an eternity. She was burning up inside for him. She went to sleep thinking of him, and he was the first thought in her head when she woke. She had wondered, in off moments, whether he was a dangerous obsession, one she ought to take steps to mitigate.

Most of the time, she let herself bask in it.

Now, with the clock ticking toward five fifteen, she set about the final and most challenging piece of decorating work: hanging the happy birthday banner over the stairs just through the front door, so that everyone who came in would see it. She tried her mother's little stepladder, but it wasn't nearly tall enough. Her next attempt consisted of three boxes stacked on a chair, and she had just begun to make her precarious assent when the door opened and Robert walked in, followed by Cameron.

The former gave her an apathetic glance before walking by, while the latter stopped and raised his eyebrows at her.

"You think I'm going to let you stand on

that

?" he asked, eyeing the leaning tower.

"No one was asking you for permission," Lila said hotly. She was already frustrated. "Give me a hand, if you must."

"Give you a hand? I'll catch you when you fall," he said, watching her make the rest of the perilous journey onto the highest box. He held her ankles, steadying the quivering stack. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Hanging the happy birthday banner. Don't look up my skirt."

"Well, now that you've mentioned it." He looked up at her and winked. "Hearts, huh? You little coquette."

"Am not," she retorted, slapping one side of the banner into place. She was certain that her cheeks were bright red. He'd looked up her skirt no doubt, because he'd correctly picked out the pattern on her panties.

"It's a compliment," he said. As she finally secured the other side of the banner, he reached up and lifted her down and set her on her feet on the second step of the staircase, so that they stood at eye level with each other. His eyes sparkled at her. "You going to give me a kiss hello, princess?"

"We're in Robert's front hallway!" she squeaked, dodging the hands that sought to encircle her waist.

"Robert's busy verbally flailing your mother. I heard all about it earlier today," Cameron said.

His hands skimmed down Lila's sides, smoothing her skirt. She shivered and was about to accept the proffered kiss when the door, which had never been fully shut behind them, swung open. For a split second the silhouette of someone turning flashed across Lila's vision, and she and Cameron leapt apart. She landed hard on her backside on the stairs. The leaning tower of boxes teetered and fell.

"Oh." Jonas Keaton stood in the doorway, his expression frankly shocked. It took Lila a moment to realize that he was looking at the boxes, not at the two people standing in front of him. A moment passed before his gaze flicked first toward Lila, then toward Cameron. "My gosh, what were you doing?"

"Hanging the birthday banner," Lila blurted out. She jumped up, her backside smarting where she had fallen, and bent to start picking up the boxes.

The crash had clearly roused Robert from the kitchen, because he appeared in the hall.

"What in the world is this?" he asked Lila, his face clouded by anger. When he turned and saw Jonas still standing in the doorway, his expression cleared. "Jonas, my boy! You came without your uncle?"

"He's right behind me. Here, let me help you with that," Jonas said, reaching down to take one of the boxes from Lila. Their fingers brushed, and for a moment his eyes met hers. Behind her, Cameron stood silent against the banister.

Robert gave Lila a pointed look, and she remembered her other task of the night.

"Oh, Jonas," she said. Her voice came out high-pitched and tremulous. "This is Cameron Winthrop, a family friend. He went to Harvard some years back."

Cameron flashed Lila an almost imperceptible glance, then turned to take the hand that Jonas had extended.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said.

"I'm starting at Harvard in the fall," Jonas said helpfully. He looked from Cameron to Lila and then back to Cameron. "I think I read about you in the alumni magazine. My father was class of '86."

"Oh, a legacy," Cameron said dryly.

"Absolutely." Jonas gave him a broad smile. "Four generations' worth, actually. My great-great grandfather would have rolled over in his grave if I'd decided to go anywhere else, given he started the tradition."

"Jonas! Robert! Hello, Lila." Mr. Keaton had appeared in the doorway behind his nephew, accompanied by his smiling wife Kara. He was holding a big gift box. "Where shall I set this?"

"I'll take it," Lila said hurriedly, before Cameron cut in.

"I'll take it," he said, his tone authoritative. "She can show me where to put it."

"Shall we adjourn to the dining room? Miranda's just had the appetizers put out," said Robert.

With the Keatons moving away after their host, Lila led Cameron down the hall to the large closet at the end where her mother had cleared out to serve the purposes of gift receiving. She pushed the door open, and he followed her into the darkness, lowering the box down to the floor. Based on his grunt of exertion, it was heavy, and she was lucky that he had volunteered to take it for her.

He dusted off his hands before turning to fix her with a sharp look.

"Who's that boy?" he asked.

"That boy?" She blushed, glad for the dim of the closet. "You know who he is! I introduced him to you."

"I meant, who is he to you," Cameron said, a steely note in his voice.

"No one. I just met him the other day." Without realizing it, she had shrunk backward. Her back hit the closet wall, and she let out a little squeak. "Robert's trying to set us up. And I lied to my mother the other day about going out to see him, when I was actually going to the library to FaceTime with you."

"Jesus." Cameron raked a hand through his hair. "We'd better hope no one mentions that to him."

She nodded, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He caught her chin in one hand and kissed her, his mouth covering hers. For a moment they exchanged desperate kisses in the darkness of the closet, as if reaching for something they hadn't known they needed. Then they broke apart, and Lila drew in a great breath of musty air and sneezed.

"Bless you," Cameron said. He extended a hand toward the light. "After you."

She stepped out, straightening her skirt. When she walked into the dining room a moment later with Cameron behind her, she felt the most self-conscious she had in her life. She was certain that her mouth looked bruised, her hair disheveled, that someone would notice and comment on their indiscretion. But the other guests, including the remainder who had apparently arrived during their little diversion, were busy picking over appetizers and socializing.

Lila, noticing that her mother was nowhere to be seen, quietly excused herself.

She found her mother in the kitchen, sitting on her stool in the corner by a tray of beautifully decorated petit fours. Her mascara was running a little at the corners of her eyes. Lila came softly up to her shoulder.

"Mom," she said. "The guests are here."

Her mother turned to look at her, her eyes red-rimmed.

"I forgot to order Robert's favorite brandy," she said in a teary voice, and then she began to really cry, fat tears that rolled down her cheeks. She leaned her head against Lila's shoulder, her body shaking. "It's all he wanted for this party, and I forgot."

"He's an ungrateful idiot, Mom," Lila said.

But her mother only shook her head and cried harder.

"He's my h- husband!"

A shadow filled the door behind them. Lila glanced over her shoulder. Cameron.

"What seems to be the matter?" he asked, stepping inside.

"She forgot to order Robert's favorite brandy," Lila said. She gave her mother a one-armed squeeze. "See, everyone is worried about you. I'm sure Robert won't mind once he unwraps all the other fabulous gifts everyone's brought him."

"Miranda, no use crying over spilt milk," Cameron said. He was near now, and he laid a hand on the trembling shoulder of Lila's mother "And I have something in my car that might rectify the situation. I was going to wait to bring it out, but seeing how you could use some cheering up..." He held up his keys before tossing them to Lila. "In the trunk. I'll escort your mother out to the dining room."

"Oh, you're so kind!" Miranda gushed, clinging to his arm.

Lila cringed and hurried out. His Mercedes was parked in the drive beside Robert's car. She unlocked it and pulled open the trunk. Inside was a single nondescript cardboard box of a fair size. She pulled it to the edge of the trunk, quickly realizing how heavy it was. But she was able to lug it back up the drive and into the front hall, where she balanced it on top of the banister, sucking in deep breaths.

"Want some help?" came Jonas's voice from the archway leading into the living room.

"Yeah, sure," she said, and let him take it. She could hear Cameron's voice in the dining room. When she and Jonas entered, his stormy eyes flicked over to her.

"Thank you, young man," he said, taking the box from Jonas. It clinked slightly as it changed hands. He set it on the table. "This is my gift to you, Robert. I'll let you do the honors. It's a case of that Spanish red we were talking about the other day. Aged ten years."

"Oh, my God." Lila's mother gripped his arm. "You must have paid a fortune for that! You didn't have to."

"It's the man's birthday. Of course I had to. And I almost forgot -- a gift for the hostess, as well." Cameron pulled a little wrapped box out of his coat pocket and smiled broadly at Miranda, but Lila thought that his smile was at least half for the benefit of the others gathered around. He cast a meaningful glance in the direction of Jake Finnegan, the head of their department: a smartly-suited man, and not at all old for his prominent role in the operations of Schar and Elmhurst.

Jake stepped up to the table, clearing his throat. Robert paused where he had begun to lift the flaps of the cardboard box.

"Well, I won't try to top that extraordinary generosity, and in fact I couldn't possibly, but here's my own gift for you, Robert," Jake said, sliding an envelope across the table. "It's a card. You'll find a key inside to your new office. Check your accounts when you get to work on Monday. I thought there could be no better time than to announce your promotion to the position of manager of our newest special account, generously bequeathed by this man here."

And he, in turn, made an indication toward Cameron.

Miranda squealed and threw her arms around Robert. The company oohed and aahed and clapped. Only Lila was quiet, watching her stepfather tear into the letter, fish out the shiny silver key, and dangle it high in the air for everyone to see before tearing into the box before him and unearthing a bottle of Spanish red. Wine began to flow freely, and conversation swelled between the attendees. Despite her underage status, Lila found herself with a glass in hand, pushed back against the windows.

Jonas came to stand beside her. He held his own glass with a much more practiced air. When he looked at her, she thought for a moment that his eyes cut through her facade. She still couldn't be sure what he had seen when he'd opened the door.

"Quite a man, that Cameron Winthrop," he said, tipping his glass toward the figure who had assumed a central position in the room. "I suppose he's what young men like me ought to aspire to."

"I suppose," Lila said, falling back into the poky noncommittal responses she had gotten used to giving when asked about Cameron.

"Then I suppose you think there is something else I ought to aspire to?" Jonas asked, a twinkle in his eyes. He leaned closer and clinked his glass against hers. "Cheers, Lila. Tell me, what must I do to get you to come out with me? I admit, I was pressed into making your acquaintance by my uncle. But I'd like to get to know you better. You're a charming girl, really."

He said it as if they weren't the same age. She grimaced, swallowing the mouthful of wine she had gulped hastily down. It was a strong wine, its flavor far too assertive for her unseasoned palate.

"I'm afraid I'm already seeing someone," she said.

For a moment, she thought she saw his eyes flick, almost imperceptibly, toward the suited figure holding court in the center of the room. But it could have been nothing, a glimmer, a trick of the light coming through the window at their backs. She didn't know, and her own uncertainty made her even more uneasy. He smiled at her.

"Well, then, that wasn't so hard for you to say. You could've told me the first time. I suspect your parents must not know."

"No, they don't," Lila said. "I would appreciate it if you kept it between us. They're not really interested in having me date... at least not unless he's a soon-to-be Harvard man like yourself."

"I can imagine," Jonas said, his eyes resting on her. "Well, thanks for your honesty. You can thank me for my discretion."

And he turned away, leaving Lila with a sour taste in her mouth. She looked down at the wine in the glass of her hand, the tremble of her fingers raising ripples out of its burgundy depths. It reminded her of blood, how blood had trickled between her thighs when she had cut them so many years ago. She felt a sudden urge to retreat to her room and resume blocking out her newest work.

She looked up, feeling eyes on her. Cameron was watching her from where he still stood surrounded by her doting mother and Jake and Robert and Jonas, who had joined the fray. Lila shivered, shrinking beneath his gaze. She turned and set her long-stemmed glass on the windowsill and fled.

Upstairs, she found solace in her room. Noise from the party below pressed up through the floorboards, rising in pitch as those in attendance became tipsy and then drunk and then drunker. She doubted that her absence had been noted by more than a few, and she especially doubted that either her mother or Robert were among those few. Jonas would have noticed, given his interest in her, and besides he had proved himself more perceptive than most. And she was certain that her disappearance would not have gone unnoticed by a certain pair of stormy eyes. In fact, she was certain that she would only have to sit and wait for Cameron to make his own departure from the company and find her here.

But as minutes wore into an hour, she became less certain. Perhaps he had been spooked by their earlier near-miss, or satisfied by their brief exchange in the darkness of the closet. Or, even worse, he could be

enjoying

himself down below, basking in the sycophantic attentions of the assembled guests.

It would have been against her personal assessment of him. But it was, of course, the first time she had observed him with anyone other than herself, her mother, and Robert. She began to obsess over every detail. Maybe he was as self-centered as he sometimes seemed. Maybe she had given him the benefit of the doubt one too many times.

Claire popped into her head. Claire, now that was a woman who would have been able to share the spotlight with him, and he with her. She never would have done something as silly as flee to her room. She would have been right there beside him, soaking up the praise. And had she been co-hosting a party -- for this was, of course, also Lila's place of residence -- she never would have made herself scarce.

It was almost enough to make Lila jump up and scamper back downstairs. But something held her back, and she remained stubbornly fixed on her easel.

Twilight was fading into a glimmer on the horizon in the west when she heard footsteps on the stairs and in the hall, and then the sound of her bedroom door being pressed open. She turned and looked, though she didn't have to.

Cameron stood in the doorway, watching her.

Heat spilled across her cheeks. One of her hands shot instinctively up to the locket around her neck. She ducked her head, bashful. Would she ever fail to blush beneath his gaze?

"Thought I might find you up here, princess," he said, his voice low. He stepped toward her, pushing the door shut on his back. "No one seemed to notice you had gone besides me and that young man. You don't know how I felt when I saw him talking with you again. You make me feel things I've never felt before."

He had narrowed the gap between them to nothing, and caught her shoulders in his hands, almost as if he meant to shake her. She quivered in his grasp, a leaf caught in a storm.

"Never?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Never." He sounded so sure of himself that she couldn't question him. "If it were up to me, I'd keep you all to myself, baby girl. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing."

"You don't mean that," she said. She hung her head. "You'd have to own me."

Above her, his eyes flashed.

"And who says I don't want to?" he asked, leaning over her. His hands skimmed down her arms to seize her by the wrists.

She looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes. Their gazes locked. He pulled her in with inextricable force.

"You already do," she whispered.

And in a way, it was true. She was afraid of him. Not afraid of what he might do to her, necessarily, but of how he might change her. Afraid of the power he held over her. Afraid that she would come to breathe for him, laugh for him, live for him, all inside a golden cage. Because that was what it was that he described, a cage of love. He kissed her hard, bruising her lips, deadening her mind. He smothered her in kisses, violent in his passion.