Page 129 of Enthrall Ecstasy
“Have you heard what we do in the Harrington Suite?” When I started to move, he gestured for me to stop. “No, keep that position. It pleases me.”
I spread my thighs even wider, showing off my pussy. The arousal I felt was making me giddy, my body trembling with need.
He was to be mine and I his.
“Faulkner is here to claim you.” Shay gestured for my obedience. “We’ve come to an agreement. However, when a submissive belongs to a Dom, even temporarily, there’s a rule for how the transition takes place. A ceremony.”
“I don’t care what happens,” I said, “as long as I become yours.”
“It’s a tradition. A way to make it known that you are under my command.”
His words resonated like a chant. The promise of salvation.
I didn’t mind an erotic ceremony. I just hoped it was highly sexual and didn’t involve any pain.
My flesh ignited like I was already there—even with these unanswered questions.
“Sir, what happens in the Harrington Suite?”
I’d always admired my willpower, but having to leave Rue with her body inviting me to take her hard and fast meant reaching a whole new level of self-control.
I’d left her to prepare for tonight.
Our senior Dominatrices would make sure she was ready.
By leaving Chrysalis for several hours, I would be able to think this through—away from temptation.
This place wasn’t bad. It was just so fucking loud.
I’d have one drink. By the time I returned to Chrysalis the liquor would have worn off.
Anyway, cancelling tonight’s opportunity to spend time with this special someone wasn’t an option.
It’s easy to tell who your closest friends are. They’re the ones who—no matter how much time you’ve had to spend apart—make you feel like no time has passed at all.
When it came to this Navy buddy and my ex-commanding officer, I felt nothing but respect for Henry Cole. Cameron’s older brother had shown the kind of bravery that most men weren’t capable of achieving in a lifetime.
We were two retired frogmen in a sea of civilians.
The Edison was not my kind of bar. I was surprised it was his, with its swanky décor, dark-themed rooms and loud music that screamed decadent youth.
Everyone was looking down at their phones—even the bartender. It annoyed the hell out of me, but then I had to admit I’d glanced at mine several times, too.
Just in case any update came out of Chrysalis.
Not Henry though, he was too much of a gentleman and too old-fashioned to fall into that tech trap. With his impressive height, broad shoulders and confident swagger, he drew attention from everyone we walked past.
Both of us had donned a different kind of uniform now—jeans and T-shirts with tailored jackets, because we weren’t that slovenly yet.
This post-industrial venue was set in the sub-basement of a renovated power plant, located on the corner of Second and Main off Harlem Place Alley in L.A.’s historic core.
A strange thought popped in my head—perhaps Rue would like it here. Maybe I’d bring her, like we were a couple.
“This way,” shouted Henry, leading me down a long corridor, cognac in hand.
We moved away from the noisy action toward a quieter corner, finding leather-covered chairs in a seating area that was more private.
“Makes me feel old,” I said, taking the seat beside his.
