Page 70 of Prey Tell
“Okay. Well, I hope you have a good night’s sleep. See you Tuesday. Don’t forget about the thing on Friday night.”
I rub my face.Fuck.I’d forgotten about the party at the gallery.
“Are you bringing a date?” he asks, chewing something on the other end.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Right. Well, it might help our image if we have dates. Just saying.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sure you will,” he adds, his voice serious. “Night, Chase.”
He hangs up, and I stare at my computer screen for several seconds before I close it and rub my eyes, mentally preparing myself for tomorrow.
Though tomorrow is the official first day of The Hunt, and the Dominants are supposed to use today as a warm-up of sorts for their submissives. There’s no formal hunt or event—it’s merely a space for people to play however they want to, in a safe, inclusive setting. Unlike my other parties, there would be no masks or timers unless required by a Dom.
Each couple would choose how they spent the weekend.
And tomorrow, I knew I’d want to play with Parker.
I stand up and grab my computer as well as the amended business contract I’ve been pouring over. Work can wait until next week. I sent the email I’ve been dreading—the email that lays out our terms and reiterates that we wouldn’t budge on one of our terms. It’s possible they’ll walk away from the deal, but it’s done now.
They can take or leave our money, and something tells me they’ll take our money after making me sweat a bit.
They need me.
And I was willing to exploit that need until I got what I wanted.
I trek upstairs and unlock the door to my living quarters, finding the living area empty. The bedroom door is closed, and the light appears to be off. I glance around the tidied suite, no evidence that she was laid out on the couch with cake before I left to work. I set my computer down on the dining room table and remove my shoes. Walking over to the bar, I pour myself a small finger of scotch, sitting on the couch.
Juliet did well today. Extremely well. I’m proud of her. I wasn’t sure she’d be able to hand over her power, to transfer the power she’s so used to, but she did it. I think of the way she stiffened in that broom closet at her engagement party. How her eyes fluttered slightly at my command. Perhaps she’s a natural submissive. The thought makes my blood heat, causing the burn of the scotch to send another wave of arousal to my aching cock.
We didn’t speak much as she ate, but I could tell she was tired and wanted to decompress. Being a Dom means that I need to be able to read my subs well, and with Juliet, I knew she wanted to relax, so I left her alone. I could tell by her relaxed posture that she felt safe. I didn’t want to push, either. We covered a lot of bases today, and I wanted to give her time to adjust. I would move at her pace, and that meant knowing when to pull away.
I wasn’t lying when I told Parker that this whole thing was unprecedented for me. I’m losing track of the rules I’m breaking for her, but I’m finding that with each encounter, I care about that less and less.
I’ve wanted this,her—both unconsciously and consciously—for a decade.
In fact, I vowed not to touch myself tonight so that when I have her tomorrow, it would be as explosive as possible.
Yearsof pent-up tension, of holding myself back, of being careful and choosing my words around her.
But not anymore.
Tomorrow would change everything, and I still fully expect her to walk away from all of this—andme—at the end of the weekend.
But she has to learn for herself.
She’s desperate to see the kind of sex that I liked, and I would show her.
But she might hate me for it.
Or, maybe she’ll like it.
That small inkling of hope—the same one that sparked through me when Louis told me she was here—sputters to life again.
If she does like it, if she decides to continue…
