To Love and Obey Read online

  To Love and Obey (The D’Amato Brothers #2)

  By

  Vera Roberts

  For MES.

  To Tamara, Stacey, Natalie, and all of the grad students who have helped me. You’re awesome.

  Smashwords Edition

  © 2013 Vera Roberts, All Rights Reserved

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Nicholas D’Amato is one of the best and hardest professors at NYU, always encouraging his students to do their best. He’s also very popular with some of his female students, rarely turning down an offer for a blow job. But when his professional life gets blurred with his personal one by a new grad student, Nicholas must get to the root of the problem—and become her personal instructor.

  Zerrin Campbell is struggling to maintain. As a grad student in New York University’s famed English program, she doesn’t have time for a boyfriend or even a one-night stand, much to the chagrin of her girls. It’s not that she doesn’t want to date; she doesn’t know what guy would be able to handle what she wants to explore—a submissive in training. However, a chance encounter with Nick one night opens the consensual exploration that benefits both of them.

  To Love and Obey is the second story in the D’Amato Brothers series. It is a sensual/erotic book which deals with the complicated nature of a D/s relationship, BDSM, and overcoming obstacles to achieve personal and professional happiness.

  Prologue

  Fuck, this can’t be happening.

  Kionna Williams stared down at the huge scarlet-red letter on her term paper. All of that research she’d done. The long, countless hours writing and rewriting. The lame music videos and songs she’d had to listen to to further her research. And for what? A big fat C. Not as shocking as a F, but definitely not was she was expecting.

  Sure, she partied a lot like any other college freshman does. Sure, she would get a few hours of sleep and do her homework at the last possible minute, but she always made an effort. She thought she’d written an A paper, classifying the different components of hip-hop and comparing them to Shakespeare’s plays. Her research was thorough, and she thought she was on it.

  Apparently, her professor, Nicholas D’Amato, thought otherwise.

  Kionna looked around and saw how happy the other students were, re-reading their papers and talking about the comments he’d made on them. One of the dumbest girls in the class, Frankie, had received an A on her paper. Another girl whom Kionna didn’t think was that bright had received a B. What the hell?

  “I see everyone has received their papers,” Nick called out to his large class of fifty students. “If anyone has a question about their paper, you can see me after class. Otherwise, I’ll see you next week. You’re dismissed.”

  Kionna waited until the students left the classroom before she approached her professor. She was in big trouble. Very big trouble. She was on the verge of failing her English 100 class and having to retake it the following fall semester. Not that she minded at all. Professor D’Amato was sexy as hell, and Kionna made sure that was one class she always attended. She might have been hungover and had crust between her eyelids but for Mr. D’Amato, she made sure she looked as fly as she could first thing in the morning.

  “Professor D’Amato, may I talk to you for a moment?” She approached him.

  Nicholas took off his black frames and perched himself on the desk. “Yes, Ms. Williams? How can I assist you?”

  “I don’t understand why I received a C on my paper? I thought it was a strong paper. Maybe you don’t understand what hip-hop is, but it’s much more than just bling, bitches, and beats. It’s more than just Dr. Dre and Eminem. I was talking about the history of it, and I don’t think you were the appropriate authority to dismiss it,” Kionna folded her arms.

  Nicholas smiled. “Kionna, how is Kool Moe Dee related to the Treacherous Three?”

  Kionna scrunched her nose. “The what?”

  “What is Grandmaster Flash’s contribution to hip-hop?”

  “Grandmaster Flash?” she asked.

  “‘No Vaseline’ is considered one of the coldest diss songs ever, even harsher than ‘Ether.’” Nicholas folded his arms. “Name the rapper who made it and the person or persons he was dissing.”

  Kionna let out a heavy sigh. “I get your point, Professor.”

  “Kionna, I gave you a C because you only talked about the four elements of hip-hop—break-dancing, rapping, graffiti, and DJing. But you didn’t give examples. You want to talk about how important hip-hop is to society and its major contributions, but you don’t want to get into specifics. I just asked relatively easy questions that a so-called hip-hop head like yourself should’ve easily known the answers to, and you couldn’t give me one. Yet, I’m sure if I were to ask you who rapped ‘Hot in Herre’….”

  “Nelly!” Kionna called out before she quieted down.

  Nicholas smiled. “Exactly.”

  Kionna sighed again. “Thanks for making me feel stupid.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel stupid, Kionna. I think you’re very bright. I just need you to try a little harder,” Nicholas smiled before he got off the desk. He started gathering his things. “There’ll be another paper coming up, and I think you’ll do great on that one. Just have a little more confidence in yourself. That’s all.”

  Kionna had one last chance. She pulled down her hair and tussled it a little. She undid a couple of buttons on her blouse and walked over to Nicholas. She heard about his reputation of being generous with some of his female students. She was going to see if there was any truth to that rumor.

  She walked over to him and pressed her body against his. “Professor D’Amato, is there any way I can change your mind in giving me a higher grade?” she whispered.

  A beautiful woman was hard for Nicholas to resist. A beautiful and easy woman was downright impossible. Kionna was attractive with her long hair, pouty lips and caramel skin. She was petite, but not too skinny. “What did you have in mind?” Nicholas huskily asked.

  Kionna lowered herself until she was at eye level with his zipper and pulled it down. She reached in and pulled out his thick cock. She briefly licked her lips and smiled upon locking eyes with Nick. She then began sucking him off.

  Nick changed her grade to a B.

  ****

  Zerrin Campbell wondered when he was going to bore her. No, he wasn’t going to bore her; he was going to piss her off. They always did. She was Queen of the First Dates. She’s been on more than she would have liked to admit, but she wasn’t ashamed of the fact. She had a lot of free meals.

  Her date wasn't too shabby looking. He was tall. Black hair. Five o'clock shadow. Rugged. Sexy. A man's man. He looked like he’d stepped off the cover of some Harlequin romance. You know the kind: the guy is usually in some pose that shows off his rippling muscles in a shirt that just happens to be either too tight or open due to some imaginary breeze. Meanwhile, the woman longingly looks at him in a ‘Yes, I’ll do whatever you want, Paolo’ pose.

  Zerrin softly snickered as she thought about it. It was true. Her date, Nathaniel, did remind her of a book she just read. She tried to think of the title. A-ha! She silently remembered. Daddy’s Home. She glanced up at Nathaniel. Yeah, I can call him Daddy if the position is right.

  Ever the pessimist, Zerrin was waiting for him to say something so complete
ly outrageous she had to suddenly leave. It seemed to be a common theme in her dates. The guy would make a brash comment about something, anything, and the next thing Zerrin knew, her panties had dried up. Any moment now…

  She considered herself attractive; cute, even. But she was not a supermodel or a rail-thin actress. She was a size 12 on a good day. Who was she kidding? She was a size 13. Too small to be considered full-figured yet too heavy to be considered thin. An odd size to be, though depending on whether she had a cheeseburger or celery sticks for lunch, she could squeeze into a 12.

  She kept her long braids wrapped tight in a bun as leopard-printed glasses framed her face. She looked serious for her twenty-seven years, and it wasn’t by choice. Being in grad school forced her to cut the unnecessary bullshit out of her life. She could be playful when it was appropriate, but most of the time, her focus was on school and grad work.

  Nerd.

  Zerrin rolled her eyes at the thought; if anything, she was more of a hipster than a nerd. She often wore skin-tight leggings under her mini-skirts and sometimes paired them with bright tank tops. She was 5'7", often wearing chunky heels so no one would mistake her for a pushover.

  “So what made you fascinated about BDSM?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Everything,” Zerrin replied.

  BDSM. The four letters that mean so much but stated so very little. Bondage. Domination/Discipline. Submission/Sadism. Masochism. She was as enthralled with BDSM as she was with her research and mentoring students at school. She was intrigued by the community of it, the lifestyle of those who participated…the wanting, the need to serve, for a Dom to call her own.

  She had discovered BDSM when she was bored one night and decided to search the internet to keep her entertained. No, that was a lie. She was online one night, searching for good porn because she had finally worn out the VHS tape she’s had from an old relationship. She was looking for random clips to laugh at the horrible “actresses” and “story lines,” when she came across one clip. A man had a woman tied up and was hitting her with something. Was it a flogger? She couldn’t remember what it was. But the woman’s reaction caused a steamy reaction inside Zerrin.

  The wheels started turning in her head. Her sex became hot and moist, creating a feeling of passion and something almost like jealousy inside Zerrin. She wanted to know more and seek more. She started watching other BDSM videos with different types of scenarios. Zerrin realized she was more of a submissive than a Domme. But she couldn’t be a submissive without a Dom.

  The internet. It was the place where everyone hid behind screen names, people were internet models, everyone was a CEO of their own business which brought in millions of every year. A sweet man was the representative of the asshole who chain-smoked and had his license taken away after his second DUI. The woman comparing herself to a Barbie was really a Bratz doll with just as ugly an attitude.

  Zerrin made the mistake of going online to search for her Dom.

  Nathaniel in front of her promised he was a Dom and he had experience in BDSM. She briefly sniffed the air. Oh yes, his cologne was a nice mixture of bullshit combined with Are you fucking me? What he knew about BDSM was the mainstream version: whips, chains, and maybe some hair-pulling. Ooh, and if he really wanted to get “kinky,” he might spank her. But what he didn’t know—and how Zerrin caught him on that bullshit—was the submission aspect. The service, the obedience, the leadership. She wanted a Dom to teach her those things. If she wanted just kinky sex, she wouldn’t be wasting her time on a date with him. They would’ve just screwed at his house while Zerrin looked up, trying to figure out how many figures could she make out in the popcorn ceiling.

  “If I tell you to do something, you would do it?” Nathaniel asked.

  “That’s what a submissive does,” Zerrin explained, wondering why she was telling a so-called Dom something He was supposed to know already. “Whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do.”

  Nathaniel thought quickly. “If I tell you to bark like a dog, you would do it?”

  So BDSM is a game to you? Gotcha. “Why would I bark like a dog?”

  “You just told me if I told you to do something, you would do it,” Nathaniel licked his lips and smiled. “I’m just seeing if you’re serious or full of shit.”

  Now you’re insulting me? This date is gonna end early. “I see.” Zerrin contemplated how badly she wanted to throw her Moscato at him. Instead, she took the classy route. The good old bathroom escape. “Excuse me, I need to go use the bathroom.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Zerrin said a silent thank you to God for only bringing her clutch and nothing else. Easy escape. She went to the bathroom and on her way back, she hurried out of the restaurant.

  It would be the last time she would go online to find a Dom.

  One

  Nick’s eyes flew open upon hearing the shrieking loud alarm clock on his cell phone. It was six o’clock in the morning, and it was going to be a long day. First, he had a meeting with his other colleagues in the English department to discuss the new teaching assistant assignments for the spring term. Then he had two classes and office hours. Finally, he needed to go to his mother’s home for dinner. He had already blown off dinner with her two weeks ago and she politely told him in not so many words that she wasn’t having it. “If you can afford to see those floozies, you can afford to see your mamma,” Nicola warned him.

  Nick managed to get out of bed and began his morning routine—exercise, shower, and breakfast while he watched the morning news. Quickly finishing up his coffee, Nick hurried out of the building. It took him thirty minutes from his townhouse to the main New York University campus, where he spent most of his day. He had a lot of work to do.

  The oldest of five brothers, Nick had surprised everyone in the family by becoming a professor. While his brothers opened up their own businesses or helped run the family floral shop, Nick chose academia. He knew there would always be a place for him at Madre’s, but his passion was teaching. He knew he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger, helping his brothers with their homework and becoming a college tutor to high school students.

  His size suggested he could’ve been a quarterback; he stood over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He kept his ebony hair neatly trimmed, and he dressed in light sweaters and jeans, the clothes almost tailored to his body. He hid his sharp blue eyes behind black hipster frames.

  Nick walked around NYU like he owned it, his confidence and appearance showing up in a room long before he arrived. He didn’t take any bullshit from anyone and would quickly let a person know if they were wasting his time.

  He showed up early at the English department meeting and placed his items down. He was making a cup of tea when he was approached by one of his colleagues.

  “Did you check out the new crop of freshmen this term?” Professor Bob Bucklee commented. “I swear the older I get, the younger they get.” Bob was an older White man with white hair and matching beard. He was of average height with a rotund frame. He always smelled like cigarettes and cheap whiskey, despite the fact that he neither smoked nor drank.

  Bob was the perv of the English department. A married man of thirty years, he never propositioned his students. But it didn’t stop his fascination with the newest set of tits and ass that showed up every term.

  “They’re lovely women,” Nick commented to appease Bob. While Nick occasionally slept with his students, he didn’t like to discuss their physical appearances. There was something innately wrong about it.

  “Lovely? Pssh!” Bob looked around to see if anyone was listening. “They’re fucking hot! I tell ya, man, if I weren’t married to Sally, I would…”

  “Bend one over and lick her asshole until she came on your tongue,” Nick finished the sentence for Bob. It was the same sentence Nick had heard every term for the past seven years.

  Bob slapped Nick’s back and let out a laugh that sounded like he was wheezing. “You know it, kiddo!” He then lef
t for his seat.

  Nick smiled and shook his head. If there was one thing he could count on, it was he knew he wasn’t the pervert of the English department.

  “Good morning, Nicholas,” Herschelle Pastora poured a cup of coffee as she walked up alongside Nick. Herschelle was an Italian woman with long ebony hair and hazel eyes. In addition to being a professor, she was also a belly dancer by trade during the weekends. She had often asked Nick to come to her performances.

  “Good morning, Herschelle,” Nick greeted her, “how are you this morning?”

  “I’m doing just fine,” Herschelle grabbed a donut and set it on her plate. She admired the young man beside her and twirled her hair a little. Nick wasn’t that much younger than she was—only five years—but he had the body of a twenty-something jock. She could tell by the way his jeans and sweaters hugged his body that he was hiding something muscular and hard for her to play with underneath.

  And she had heard whispers from some of his former students about his sexual prowess and how dominating he could be. Fucking Professor D’Amato is like running a goddamn marathon, she once overheard a student comment. It was a thought that often gave Herschelle delicious wet dreams. “So I was wondering if you would need any more assistance for your research this weekend?”

  Nick forced a grin. Each time Herschelle offered to help Nick with his research, she really wanted to play ‘Hide the Penis’ with him. Nick had declined her advances for years, and it only seemed to make Herschelle want him more. It was a cat-and-mouse game in which only Herschelle was an active and willing participant. Nick briefly wondered if she would make the same advances to Bob. “Um, I’ll let you know.”

  Herschelle winked at Nick. “Anytime, Professor,” she rubbed shoulders with him.

  Nick forced another grin and piled some fruit and a muffin onto his plate. He grabbed an orange juice and made his way to his seat, waiting for the meeting to begin. He got a text from one of his submissives and he smiled upon seeing the picture. She was a slender Black woman with ebony hair pinned on top of her head. She was soaking in a bubble bath with a knee peeking out from the bubbles. At Your service, Master read the text.