Page 195 of Enthrall Shadows
We’d played these games at Chrysalis.
There was no denying de Sade had an edge to his mastery.
A high stakes game she could never win.
She panted and moaned and swooned.
I wondered if she knew it wasn’t just us here, that her erotic siren call was rising and falling on the ears below.
“Open the box,” said de Sade, whose fingertip hadn’t left his ingénue’s sex. She trembled, blinking fast and on the verge of coming.
But without his permission she was forbidden to climax.
I snatched up the box and opened it.
Inside was an elegant Rolex.
“Put it on,” said de Sade.
“Why did you get me this?” I fished it out of the box and turned it over.
Surprise caught in my throat at the Iced-Out Rolex, set with diamonds and blue Mother of Pearl inlays. It was the prettiest and most expensive watch I’d ever held.
De Sade let go of the sub and she gasped her frustration.
He’d not let her come.
The poor sub left still aroused and trembling in need.
Ignoring her again, de Sade returned to his chair, picked up a football from beside it and threw it over to Richard.
Richard caught it and then turned it over in his hands. “Is this from the last—”
“Super Bowl,” said de Sade. “Thought you might like it.”
From what I could tell, every team member from the New York Giants had signed it.
Richard set the ball down next to him. “Show’s over. We’ve received our bribes, so what’s this about?”
De Sade returned his gaze. “Booth, you’re here to see we’re not stealing her away from you. Lotte’s already planned on leaving.”
“We’re listening,” said Richard.
“What we’re offering is generous.” He zeroed in on me. “It’s way above what any other dominatrix has ever earned.”
“You’re opening your own club?” I asked.
“It’s already open. Has a strong membership. You’d be given full authority. I’ll throw in a car. A penthouse. Whatever floats your boat.”
“Wow,” said Richard. “You really want her.”
De Sade leaned forward on his elbows. “Charlotte, what do you say?”
“It’s very generous,” I said. “But I’ve already made up my mind. I’m moving over to traditional therapy.”
“Because of Henry?” he said.
“No, not because of him,” I said softly.
