The pleasure protocol a.., p.1
The Pleasure Protocol: A Scorching Billionaire Romance, page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Darcy Romaine and Kat Alexander
All rights reserved.
Cover design: Megan Barker
Editor: Nia Quinn
EBook ISBN: 979-8-9903719-1-0
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9903719-2-7
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the authors, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law and for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, contact Darcy Romaine at darcy@darcyromaine.com.
The story, names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are used fictitiously. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased) is intended or should be inferred.
All brand names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders.
To those photos of a lingerie-clad Rachel Evan Wood perched on Mads Mikkelsen’s lap, thanks for launching a thousand kinks and inspiring our dirty little minds to write this.
contents
Authors’ Note
1. Sir Meets Pet
2. A Formidable Companion
3. Desperate Little Thing
4. Indulge Me?
5. To Sundays
6. Delayed Gratification
7. Devoured
8. F*** Me Boots
9. Holy Week
10. Schastlivoy Paskhi
11. Schooled
12. Thank you, Mr. Zaitsev
13. Persephone's Choice
14. Rules and Propositions
15. The House Protocol
16. Collared
17. The Pet Store
18. G.R.W.M. Part I
19. G.R.W.M. Part II
20. Leashed
21. Greedy Girl
22. What Are the Rules, Pet?
23. Like You Were Made for It
24. I Love to Hear You Beg
25. Drop
26. Work
27. Seeing Red
28. Temptation Incarnate
29. Labeled
30. Wrapped Around Your Little Finger
31. Three Hundred Thousand
32. Bare
33. Choked
34. You Are Good
35. Foolish
36. Deep Breaths
37. Philadelphia
38. Unfiltered
39. Please Don't Do This
40. The Number One Rule
41. F***ing Woo Her
42. Yours
43. Mine
Epilogue
Bonus scene!
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
authors’ note
The Pleasure Protocol was originally available on Kindle Vella and has received minor updates to be published in novel format.
This book is for mature audiences. It contains explicit sexual content between consenting adults, including consensual non-consent, teacher/student roleplay, and intense objectification (specifically, being treated and referred to as an actual object). There are mentions of parent death, a mention of domestic violence, and a mention of anti-sex-work language.
Take care and enjoy!
ONE
sir meets pet
NIKOLAI
Nikolai Zaitsev has been using the Calypso Escorts service for years.
As the CEO of Zaitsev Security, the largest cybersecurity company in the world, he doesn’t have time or energy for dating or relationships. He finds paying for companionship easier than trying to keep a partner happy or pawing off suitors who are more interested in the money than him. It’s a transaction, a finite moment of intimacy. No strings, no worries, and no heartbreak on either end.
That’s appealing to a businessman such as himself.
He will admit he’s a man of habit, which is why Elijah has been his only escort for several years. Elijah is a brat of the highest order, but he knows Nikolai, knows what he likes in a date, and knows what he likes in the bedroom.
Their arrangement has worked fine until Nikolai texts him one Monday afternoon to ask what Elijah will wear to the charity function they’re attending in five hours.
He sets his phone down to get back to work, but not even a minute later, it lights up with an incoming call from Elijah.
He furrows his brow, alarm bells going off in his head at the immediate phone call in response to a routine text. “Elijah. Fashion trouble?”
Elijah’s laugh is a higher pitch than usual. “Nikolai, darling, how are you?”
His eyes narrow as the bells get louder. “I was fine until you called me sounding like that.”
“Well. What if I told you a very handsome gentleman has swept me off my feet, and I’m quitting the business? And also, we’re in Vegas until tomorrow, and”—the rest rushes out so quickly Nikolai barely catches it all—“I couldn’t possibly make it back to Chicago tonight to be your date?”
Irritation flashes through him. He swivels in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees. “Elijah. You’re not serious right now.” He can’t be. He can’t be. Tonight is too damn important.
“Darling, I got so caught up in the beauties of love and Las Vegas that I completely lost track of, well, everything.” Elijah makes that same little whine as when he’s been bad and his ass is about to face the consequences of Nikolai’s hand. “I really am sorry.”
Fuck. Nikolai rubs his forehead, a headache building in his temples. Another reason he hires from Calypso is to guarantee dates to functions where the lack of one would raise irksome eyebrows. Now he’s stuck.
“I’m happy you’re happy, Elijah, but this is shitty to do to a long-standing client. It’s not professional. Though, it sounds like you don’t need to worry about that anymore.” He groans. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. You could… hmm, let’s see.” Elijah snaps his fingers. “I could ask my best friend, Corinne. She’s worked at Calypso for years. She’s charming and gorgeous, and you will love her.”
Nikolai closes his eyes, his head falling to rest on the back of his chair. “You know how important this event is, Elijah.” He likes to ease into a new companionship with a lower-stakes event, until he’s confident they’re a proper fit. “Are you sure she’s the one for it?”
“She’s the best in the business. She’ll dazzle all the suck-ups you hate, and”—a smile lights up his voice—“she’s great in bed. I brought her in for a threesome with a female client who’d never been with a woman, so I’ve got firsthand experience. I promise you, Nikolai! You will not be disappointed!”
He doesn’t have much of a choice, does he? He could call Calypso’s owner, his long-time friend, Margot, but he can’t afford to wait to be matched with whoever might be available on such short notice.
“Alright,” he sighs. “You’re sure she can make it? We’re down to the wire here.”
“I know, but what are best friends for?”
Elijah gives Nikolai her number and another apology before leaving him to his own devices.
Nikolai stares out his office windows, the view of Lake Michigan and the other high-rises in the Loop as good as invisible as his brain works through the logistics of switching companions for tonight—and for every other event Nikolai has on the books.
He looks at the number he hastily scribbled on his desk notepad and takes a deep breath before picking up the phone again.
It rings so many times he’s preparing to leave a voicemail when she finally answers. “Hello, this is Corinne.” Her voice is pleasant but a bit breathless, no doubt from her racing to the phone.
“Hello, my name is Nikolai Zaitsev. Elijah gave me your number. He was supposed to accompany me to an event this evening but has canceled last minute. He provided your information as an alternative.”
“Oh, Elijah,” she sighs. “I guess he didn’t fly back from Vegas last night after all. I’m sorry, Mr. Zaitsev, but I have plans this evening, and I don’t take last-minute clients. I need at least forty-eight hours’ notice.”
Fucking hell, Elijah. “Which I would have been happy to provide, had it been provided to me.” Deliberating his options, he stands and crosses to the window, traffic crawling along forty stories below him. He sighs. He doesn’t love this move or being that guy, but it’s a tactic that works.
When in doubt, throw money at the problem.
“Whatever your regular rate is, I’ll triple it.”
“Triple? My fee is higher than Elijah’s. That’s a lot of money for one night.”
She’s damn right, but it’s not like he can’t afford it. “Which should express that while I’m happy Elijah is happy, I am also very inconvenienced.”
“I’m going to a concert tonight. So you see, it’s not something I can cancel.”
Fuck. “Pick any other night of the tour in any location of your choice, and you will be there with the full VIP experience: front-row seats, backstage passes, hotel, and flight.”
“But—”
“Including your friend or date.”
It takes her a moment to respond. “What’s so important that you’re willing to spend that much money for a date with a woman you’ve never even seen, let alone met?”
He pinches the brid
“That sort of attention makes me uncomfortable,” he continues. “And when I get uncomfortable, I am less tactful than my position demands. I don’t want to ruin the night for the charity, so I need a buffer, badly. And, on top of all that, Elijah says you’re the best in the business.”
“A buffer,” she repeats. “That is a role I play sometimes.” She pauses. “Is your profile with Calypso up to date?” The service keeps a profile on every client—complete with photos, their preferences, dislikes, limits, and sexual health results. It’s a beast to fill out, but an escort will have access to everything, from a client’s favorite food to their favorite position.
He tries not to let himself hope this could work out. “Yes, it’s all up to date. I made sure of it at the new year.”
“I’m sending mine to you now.” His phone buzzes with a link from her number. “Oh, look, the devil himself is calling me. Glance over that while I deal with him for a minute, hm? You should at least know who you’re asking out on a date.”
“Thank you, I’ll do that.” When the line clicks over, he pulls the phone away from his ear, putting it on speaker so he can look at her profile but hear when she comes back on.
Her photo appears first, and Elijah was right. With dark hair, full lips, and a heart-shaped face, she’s beautiful. His eyes quickly scan the page: she’s twenty-nine years old, a trained artist, and has lived in Chicago her whole life, just like him. She’s open to most sexual activities and has experience as both a dominant and submissive—his eyebrows arch—though it says her complete kink limit list is available upon request.
He’s scanning over her limits—no lasting marks, amongst a few others—when she switches over.
“Elijah’s always been flighty, but even this takes the cake for him.”
He laughs, a tiny breathy thing, more a release of tension than amusement. “You see my dilemma, then. I wouldn’t have predicted this from him at all.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry he left you in a lurch. Since this is so last minute, do you just want a date for the event? Or do you want private time afterward? Companionship? Sex?”
He takes his phone off speaker mode.
“The event is my priority, but I’d like everything if you're amenable.” She’s gorgeous; he won’t give up the chance to take her to bed. “I can have one of the standard Calypso contracts adjusted with my proposed rates and sent to you in the next half hour. If you choose to agree, of course.”
Corinne hums. “You’re lucky Billie Eilish is playing in LA next month, where it’s nice and warm.”
Nikolai both laughs and breathes a sigh of relief.
Then she adds, “And that your profile photo is quite dashing.”
He leans back with a lazy smile. Maybe Elijah's faux pas won't be such a disaster after all.
A few hours later, Nikolai is standing in his foyer, waiting for his new companion’s text. He’s making last-minute adjustments to himself—retying the silk bow tie, straightening the shawl collar of his oxblood velvet tuxedo, smoothing his black hair one final time—when Corinne lets him know she’s downstairs. He shoots off a reply and heads out of the apartment with his coat in hand. A private elevator runs exclusively to his floor, but meeting guests in the lobby is easier.
And when he steps out of the elevator, she’s difficult to miss.
The picture on her profile was nothing compared to the vision before him: deep brown eyes and full red lips. She’s in a cream halter dress with a cinched waist and a dramatic slit at the thigh. The collar is secured by a cape split down the back and draped over her shoulders. Her dark hair, styled loose and wavy like a starlet of old, brushes down her back. And there’s the barest peek of thigh-high stocking covering pale skin as she steps up to meet him.
She immediately puts her hand on his arm and kisses his cheek like they’ve done this a hundred times before. “Hello, Nikolai.”
He returns the kiss, pulling back with a smile. Even in heels, she only comes up to his chin. “Corinne,” he says, unable to stop himself from giving the curves of her body another once-over. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. I have a very important date tonight.” She gives him a secret smile. “Who apparently cleans up very handsomely.”
He nods his thanks. “If you’re ready, I’ll help you with your coat.”
It’s pale gray and fitted with a fur collar and cuffs. After he assists her, he shrugs on his own and offers his arm, then leads her outside to the black Range Rover waiting at the curb. It’s January in Chicago, frigid and unforgiving. But he’s never minded it; even if he's spent all forty-one years of his life here, he's still Russian. He’d be disappointed in himself if it did bother him.
He opens the door for her, and when he joins her on the heated leather seats on the other side, his driver, Adrian, takes off.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to set my expectations for tonight.”
“Of course. That’s exactly what you should be doing.”
He settles himself, one ankle propped on the opposite knee. “I need someone good with small talk and can navigate the brown-nosers and rich investors who think they know what they’re talking about but do not. Witty and likable, but also knows how to exit a conversation gracefully.” He smiles ruefully to himself. “I would prefer you to be slightly less of a flirt than Elijah always was, though I knew him long enough to know that was just his nature.”
Corinne laughs. “There’s no controlling that man, and I’m sure you know that even more intimately than I do. Alright, small talk, wrangling incompetent suck-ups, and no flirting. The last one is easy when my date looks the way he does.” She looks him up and down quickly, but obviously, so there is no mistaking her intent.
But then she’s right back to business. “Anything else? Anyone I should know so I can say, ‘Oh, Mrs. Packard, I’ve heard so much about you!’ and win you brownie points?”
He taps his fingers on his knee. “I make it a point not to know any of the guests too personally. Most hope to talk business, and anything seen as special treatment encourages them. But playing up the devoted-date aspect can’t be bad. Make me look good to the old ladies, at the very least.”
Nikolai pauses for a moment before continuing. “To be frank, Corinne, I donate to this charity because they help first-generation kids of immigrants, and that’s important to me. But it also means I receive a lot of attention as a thank you.” He clears his throat. “Which I do not care for.”
Her brows pinch together, and she nods. “That makes sense. I’m sure they appreciate your generosity, but I understand how that might feel overwhelming.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not generosity. It’s an obligation.” His tone is sharp. Fulfilling that obligation is the least he can do, but it’s not generosity.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Alright. Well then, we’ll try to steer clear of that attention, hm?”
“Thank you,” he says, appreciating that she doesn’t object like many others when he mentions obligations.
“Now, for tonight,” he continues, “I typically enjoy PDA with my partners. Nothing grotesque, but physical affection is the norm. Circumspect but also obvious.”
He slides a little closer, draping his arm over the seat, enough to play with the shoulders of her coat. Part of him wishes she’d taken it off for the drive. Her skin looked so tempting in the lobby, and he’d like to feel it beneath his fingers. “I tend to use pet names,” he says, “so is there anything you’d rather not be called? Any areas you don’t want to be touched, anything off-limits?”
She leans toward him, allowing his fingertips to brush against her throat. It’s just as soft as he imagined. “Any pet name is fine. I don’t like sexual groping in public unless the particular event calls for it, but I’m open besides that.”
“Excellent. Sounds like we’ll do well.”
