Page 62 of Stand Your Ground
She shrugged. “You not knowing is half the fun. I may praise you. I may degrade you. I may present you with toys you’ve never seen or heard of. The key here is trust. So… do you trust me?”
I swallowed thickly. “Yes. I trust you.”
Her lips curled. “Excellent. Now, remind me what our safe words are?”
“High stick,” I said with a laugh. “Which I already have, thanks to you dressed in this.” I plucked at the lace over her stomach.
Livia rewarded me with a buttery laugh, and then she hooked her arm through mine and led me farther into the house.
For a while, we just circled the room, Livia whispering into my ear about each person or group we passed. She squeezed my arm when I witnessed a man pull another man’s cock out and start rubbing him, and she chuckled with amusement when I full-on stopped to watch one of the women who’d been divvying out champagne glasses drop to her knees and start sucking a guest’s cock.
As suspected, I was hard and curious and a little uncomfortable by the time we’d made a full pass around the room, and that’s when we were approached by a couple who appeared to be in their mid- to late-fifties.
They were impossible to miss or overlook, both of them elegant and sexy and undeniably in charge.
“Look alive, Rook,” Livia said low in my ear, squeezing my arm where she held it. “You’re about to meet our hosts and the masterminds behind The Manor.”
The couple smiled at us before chatting in hushed voices to one another, but they were still on track for us.
“Who are they?” I asked Livia, feeling a bit foolish that I hadn’t thought to ask until this moment.
“Marcello and Evelyn Rovelli. He’s a real estate tycoon and owns half the west coast of Florida. She’s a retired ballerina and a philanthropist.”
“She’s wearing a dog collar.”
Livia chuckled before straightening and offering a small wave to our approaching hosts.
Marcello Rovelli moved like a man who’d never once rushed in his life. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with perfectly groomed silver hair and espresso-toned skin. He wore tailored black slacks and a crisp, open-collar dress shirt with the sleevesrolled, his chest exposed, wrists dripping with gold. His hand held a thin, polished chain leash.
The leash was attached to the collar of his wife — who was stunning.
Evelyn’s skin was deep bronze, her hair a cascade of black coils pinned up in a loose chignon that exposed the long, graceful line of her neck. Her makeup was dramatic — dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, deep plum lips — and her dress, if you could call it that, was sheer mesh embroidered with gold thread in ornate patterns that just barely shielded the curve of her breasts and the apex of her thighs. Beneath it, I saw nothing but a high-waisted thong and the glint of jewelry.
And at her throat, that thick leather collar that I couldn’t take my eyes off.
“Tesoro,” Evelyn purred, letting go of her husband’s arms just long enough to sweep Livia into a hug once they reached us. I didn’t miss how she seemed to knowjusthow far she could stretch away from her husband without the leash catching. “You look edible, darling.”
“Are you telling me I’m good enough to eat, Ev?”
“Always.”
She winked as Marcello stepped in and took Liv’s hand in his, planting a soft kiss to the back of it. “What a pleasure to have you with us tonight, Mistress Livia. It’s been too long.”
“I agree. But I’ve had a…projectoccupying my time.” Livia slid her arm back through mine with those words, and our hosts swung their gaze to me.
Marcello’s eyes swept over me from head to toe, not unkindly, but like a man assessing the quality of a rare bottle of scotch. He nodded once, satisfied. “Carter Fabri. We’re honored.”
His voice was drenched in power, just like everything else about him.
“Welcome to our home,” Evelyn added, her gaze twinkling with mischief. “We’ve heard lovely things about you.”
That alone made my stomach clench. I shifted on my feet, but Marcello lifted a hand, his tone softening just enough to reassure.
“She only means from Livia when she delighted us with her request to bring you as her guest. And let me ease your mind. You have our full discretion,” he said. “No one here will utter a word about hockey, and no one outside these walls will know you were ever here.”
“You’re safe,” Evelyn echoed, brushing her fingers over the chain that connected her to her husband once more. “Free to explore. To observe. To indulge. And if at any point, you’d prefer to disappear into one of the private rooms, Livia knows the way.”
Their words settled over me like warm water, and somehow, I felt both more exposed and more at ease than I had all night.
