Page 33 of Prey Tell
The guard looks over my shoulder and gives the man behind me a simpering smile. “Of course, Mr. Hearst.” He holds out two forms over the marble stand, and I glance over the standard NDA before signing. The man behind me does the same.
The guard gestures to let us through to the elevators. I nearly skip inside an open one as the man follows me through the double doors.
“Thank you,” I tell him as the doors slide shut, and he presses the button labeled, ‘P’ for penthouse.
“Of course,” the man says, coming to my side as we smoothly glide up several stories. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I left a beautiful woman like you outside in the cold?”
I smile even though it’s 74º right now. Definitely notcold.
Before I can thank him again, he bends down and speaks directly into my ear. “I assume you like to play?”
Chills run down my spine. “Um, play?” I ask, keeping the fake smile plastered on my face as the doors open at just the right moment.
My eyes widen as we walk into the living area. I’ve been here before to visit Jackson, but only a handful of times. I was always hesitant to run into Chase, so I kept my distance. So while the room we enter into is familiar, I also notice the details that aren’t so familiar. Like the black roses on every table, the candles, and the fact that the entire party feels more like a glitzy soiree rather than whatever the hell Chase was hinting at two weeks ago. I expected women in chains, maybe even a fire-breathing lion tamer or something.
You couldn’t handle it.
Yeah fucking right. I can handle a fancy party just fine.
My eyes dance over the familiar-yet-unfamiliar room, and the man guides me through the crowd until we’re walking onto a large balcony I’ve never seen before. It’s three times the size of my house, the walls are open to the air, and I can see all of downtown Crestwood glittering below. There are high tables and chairs, a full bar, soft music, and a few people dancing in the center of the patio to the music playing softly through invisible speakers.
“Yes. Play. You said you know Chase Ravage, so I can only assume you’re one of his subs.”
Subs.Right.
“Just an observer tonight,” I tell him.
He chuckles, pointing to the bar. “Point taken. Can I at least buy you a drink?”
I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
He walks away, leaving me to explore by myself. I hold my gold clutch at my side as I walk to the balcony, leaning over slightly to take in the view. It’s dark out, but the city is all lit up. From this vantage point, it looks like any other large city, but I know that Crestwood is different. Smaller. Wholesome. A haven of independent shops, cafés, and restaurants. There are only a few high rises, as the rest of the city is made up of old, Victorian houses, brick buildings that somehow weren’t damaged during the recent earthquakes, and greenery. It’s not perfect, but it’s home. I turn around as the man walks over with two cocktails.
“I hope you like vodka martinis,” he says suavely, handing me a crystal coupe.
I try to hide my grimace. “Thanks.”
“I’m Ben Hearst,” he says, holding his hand out.
“Juliet Parker,” I tell him, shaking his hand firmly.
If there’s one thing I’ve perfected being a woman in academia, it’s a firm handshake.
“So,Juliet,” he drawls, sipping his martini. “If you’re just an observer, why are you here?”
I pretend to sip the vodka. “I was curious,” I tell him honestly, leaning against the glass railing.
“About BDSM, or about primal play?”
“Both,” I answer without thinking.
What the hell is primal play?
My heart is racing as he smirks and sets his drink down on the steel banister. “Oh, so you’re new.”
My cheeks flush. “Yup,” I say quickly, taking a sip. “Care to enlighten me?”
Ben chuckles again. “I’d love to.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Primal play is a type of BDSM that focuses on… natural impulses and urges,” he says slowly. “Raw feelings, raw actions. That means something different for everyone.” He sips his martini. “Sex with little-to-no restraint.”
