Page 219 of Enthrall Shadows
An erotic story was about to be told in real time; a fantasy on the precipice of realization for a young submissive. Her devastatingly handsome master was ready to reveal his unique set of talents. Senior dominant Atticus Sinclair would be showcasing his new submissive to the VIPs.
Heavy green drapes covered the floor-to-ceiling windows to block out the fading light. A chandelier hung above the central four-poster bed with a plush velvet duvet.
What set this room apart from other luxury venues were the chains dangling over the four-poster.
And there was Henry, standing at the back, camouflaged in his black tuxedo and masquerade mask, appearing like he belonged.
A few of the men turned to watch me enter as I strolled elegantly into the room.
With a nod, I feigned there was nothing out of the ordinary going on, that we didn’t have an interloper in our midst.
Henry emanated charisma, looking so damn sexy in that gold Venetian mask and suave tux.
He was annoying gorgeous and arrogant enough to believe he deserved to step into this sanctum.
No,that wasn’t it at all. I hated him for making me want to say yes to a clandestine affair. I understood his reasoning. He’d become such a hazardous addiction.
Closing the space between us, I walked slowly so as not to arouse suspicion, peering up at this regal stud of a man.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
His right hand glided down my spine until it rested at the arch of my lower back, the warmth from his palm saturating through my bodice.
If he’d meant to ignite a sense of arousal, he’d accomplished it.
The room hushed.
“You can’t stay,” I whispered.
“Silence,” he said sternly.
Cameron is going to fucking kill me.
I drew in a sharp breath at the door being locked by a young submissive.
No one else was coming in.
Or out.
Atticus Sinclair came in from a side door, strolling with his usual arrogant swagger that appeared extra sinister. His tattooed hands complimented his remarkable black tuxedo that reflected a stark sophistication.
He was like a walking pheromone.
And he was exceptionally choosy about which submissive he trained. He had a type. Not necessarily in appearance but more in their ability to be subservient. He loved them to beg. And they always begged him for more.
The young submissive being showcased today was twenty-year-old Olivia Bancroft.
Wearing a filigree mask, she was being pulled along by a fine chain connected to her collar, her large breasts naked. He’d permitted her to wear a thong.
The brilliant Atticus was noted for his level of precision, being a talented surgeon, which was a surprise to those who misread his tattoos. His downtime included expeditions to territories as far reaching as the North Pole. His inked hands threw his patients at first, right up until he showed them the remarkable things he could do, saving the lives of those who would have died under another doctor’s care.
He displayed a reckless but controlled vibe.
Olivia was a reasonable match for him. She was a lifestyle blogger who’d made a name for herself on social media as an all-round good American girl.
We were seeing her secret persona.
What we would witness tonight was her passion for kink, her appetite being as filthy as her masters.
