Page 10 of Her Royal Master
Chelsea
My legs wobbled as I stumbled to the shower, rubbing my neck.He hadn’t even squeezed it.Yes, I’d felt like I was choking, but when I looked in the mirror, there weren’t even fingerprints on my throat.My brain just immediately went to strangulation.
But what kind of perverse mind fuck was that?He purposely put in me in a position he knew would scare the shit out of me and then pulled me back from the ledge.Soothed me.Or was that just showing me he was the boss?That he had my number and could dial it at any time?
No.Well, yes, but no.Not quite.Because why tell me I’m okay?It was some sort of dominant trust exercise.That was my best guess.I knew exactly zero about BDSM, but it sort of made sense.He wanted me nervous, not scared.
I turned on the shower water, infinitely grateful he’d given this order.The water felt wonderful—a little too hot on my spanked ass—but still blissful.I stood under the spray, sorting through my thoughts.
Despite all Darius’ threats and even the way he’d manhandled me—spanked me and slapped my breasts—he’d been a gentleman, too.
He’d rescued me from the collar, tossed me his t-shirt.Had waited for my consent to have sex, even though I’d come in the guise of a prostitute paid to do whatever he wanted.And now he’d gone to get me food.So yeah.You could make a dom out of the royal, but you couldn’t take the royalty—or in this case, chivalry—out of the dom.
I went still, struck by a realization that I should’ve seen sooner.Darius Halsburg wasn’t a violent abuser of women; he was a dominant.
He never assaulted his girlfriend.
Or rather, whatever ‘assault’ occurred had been sex play.The woman who’d pressed charges—what was her name again?Madison something—had used the ol’ Monica Lewinsky trick.Seduce a public figure and powerful man, collect the evidence and use it to destroy him.
Or in Madison’s case, receive an enormous payoff to shut up and drop the case.But not before the duke’s name had been disgraced.
Bitch.
Her ploy had worked because he had a history of violence—when he was in his early twenties he’d pulled a Sean Penn and punched a camera man.
Goosebumps rose on my arms.
In that case, it had been in defense of a woman.He’d been protecting his girlfriend at the time from being hounded.Yes, all the clues still pointed to Darius being a gentleman.A rough-around-the-edges one, but a gentleman, nonetheless.
I suddenly wanted nothing more than to write the exposé on Madison.Her manipulation of what must have been a consensual BDSM arrangement.Because I was sure, now, it had been exactly that.If the duke asked and waited formypermission to have sex—a girl who had boarded the yacht as acall girl—I couldn’t believe he would abuse a partner.
Fearing I’d been in the shower too long and would miss Darius’ knock, I shut off the water and quickly dried with a soft towel.The luxury of it brought back my mind-blowing situation with a bang.I was on a two-hundred-million-dollar yacht with the Halsburg royals of Austrinia.I just had sex with Darius Halsburg!
As out of my comfort zone as I was, and even though two hours ago I was sure it had been the biggest and most dangerous mistake of my life, I now had no regrets for my decision to boardSweet Surrenderunder false pretenses.I would get an amazing story out of this, even it if was only my personal tell-all on being taken to task by the infamous Devil Duke.
But no, that felt wrong.One woman had used him that way and done irreparable damage.Even if my intent was to shine a sweeter light on the duke, he’d probably hate me for it.I could certainly write a big reveal on the playboy prince’s activities.But that didn’t feel right, either.
Well, I had three more days on this yacht to figure it out.In the meantime, my BDSM education had begun.
~.~
Darius
Chelsea answered the door in my t-shirt.Her thick, wet hair had dampened the shoulders of it and those American thighs looked smoking hot where they jutted out below the hem.
I gave her a disapproving look.“Shirt off.”
Fuck.Although she blushed, her look was pure come-hither as she pulled the shirt over her head, tits bouncing.
Aaaand I was a goner.
I handed her the plate of food.I’d love to make her kneel and eat from my fingers, but I didn’t think she was ready for that kind of submission.Don’t get me wrong—she loved surrender; she just didn’t know it yet.
“Thank you.”She accepted the food with a shy smile—the one that had knocked me on my ass the moment we’d met—and carried it to the bed, where she sat and placed it on her lap.The chef had put together a bread, cheese, fruit, and olive plate for me.
I picked up an olive and popped it in my mouth, watching as she arranged a piece of cheese on bread.
“I figured something out,” she said before taking a bite.
