Текст книги "The Queen"

Автор книги: Tiffany Reisz

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“Did you come here simply to scold me for hurting Kingsley? If so, I am duly contrite,” he said without a trace of contrition. “Now, if you’re not here for me, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. I’m meeting Simone in twenty minutes.”

“I know. She told me. That’s why I’m here. I needed to tell someone,” she said, and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. It was an email she’d printed out earlier today. Søren took it from her, unfolded it and read the words on the page, first with mere interest and then with obvious joy.

“Eleanor, is that what I think it is?”

“I sold my book.”

16

Good News

“A PUBLISHER CALLED Libretto is buying it. Two-book deal. It’s for almost no money, and my agent warned me I wouldn’t see a penny of it for about three months, but they’re a solid company with a really good track record for launching authors.” The words came out fast as they’d been bottled up inside her for twenty-six whole hours. Ever since she’d gotten the phone call and the email with the details, she’d been fighting the need to scream from the rooftops.

Søren raised his hand and touched her smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Me, too. Although I’m terrified. They want another book from me in six months, and I don’t even have a laptop yet. I hope King hooks me up with a rich client soon. I need to get to work.”

“I have the utmost faith in you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever break the habit of telling you everything.”

“I hope you never do. When you start keeping secrets from me, then I’ll know something’s very wrong.”

“I know you won’t tell on me. You’re good at keeping my secrets.”

“It’s what priests do. Should we celebrate?”

“How? You want to take me out to dinner?”

“I wish I could.”

She wished he could, too. And it grated. It grated right on her heart that he, an unmarried adult man, couldn’t take her, an unmarried adult woman, out to dinner without risking a scandal simply because of the collar he wore around his neck and the initials behind his name.

“We could celebrate in private,” he said. “Later tonight...if you wish.”

“If I wish? That’s different. You used to summon me, and I came crawling.”

“You never came while you were crawling. Shortly thereafter, however.”

“If Simone’s listening at the door then she really is going to be very jealous. She’s crazy about you.”

“Simone wouldn’t eavesdrop on us.”

“Fuck, I would.”

Søren smiled. A quick smile, there and gone again like the flash of headlights in a darkened room.

“I should go,” Nora said. She started for the door but Søren grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. “Søren, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t do this?” He wrapped one foot around her calf to lock her against him. He put his hand under her chin and held it in place while he kissed her. Against her will, she warmed to the kiss, to the touch of his hand on her face, his body so close to hers. Every morning she woke up with a ghost in her bed in the shape of his body. His scent was long gone from her sheets. She almost wished for winter so she could smell him without being near him. Being close to him hurt. Being away from him hurt. Søren had told her years ago that to love him was to hurt. She thought that night he referred only to his sadism. Now she knew better.

Reluctantly she pulled away from him again, putting two feet between them. Breathing room.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t tempted, Little One. I know you too well.”

“What I want to do and what I’m willing to do aren’t the same thing anymore. And I can read you, too, you know. And when I look in your eyes, I read warnings. If I go back to you, you will take everything from me that I’ve gained by leaving you.”

“We made a deal, remember? You gave me forever and I would give you everything. I fully intend to hold up my end of the deal, no matter what it costs me.”

“It was a bad deal,” she said. “I made it when I was fifteen. And you haven’t given me everything.”

“I have given you my heart, my body and every secret about me you would ever want to know. I have put my priesthood on the line for you, my work, my reputation, my happiness and quite often my own sanity. What more do you want from me?”

“An apology, for starters.”

“For what? I’ll put it in writing.”

“I’m sure it will be quite well crafted, written with lovely penmanship and entirely insincere. For what? You order me to marry you, order me to never see Kingsley again, break my riding crop and you have to ask what for?”

“You knew what I was. You were warned. I warned you. Kingsley warned you. I will not apologize for who and what I am.”

“Then let’s make a new deal. I won’t ask you to change what you are, and you don’t ask me to change what I am.”

“What are you? Tell me. I’d love to know what you think you are.”

“Free.”

Søren smiled at her. “Is that so? Then why are you still wearing your collar?”

“I’m not.”

He paused long enough to make her nervous. Then he came to her, pressing her back against the wall with the weight of his body. She hated him for being so tall and strong. He could dominate her simply by standing in front of her. She closed her eyes as he slipped his hand down her side, down her thigh, up her thigh... Nora inhaled as he slid his hand into her panties and pressed his fingers against her clitoral ring. He grasped it and tugged lightly.

“I marked you with this, and you haven’t taken it out,” Søren said.

“I don’t want to take it out. It feels good when I’m fucking.”

“Is that the real reason?” Søren’s fingertip caressed her clitoris. It swelled under his touch.

“The only reason.”

“You can lie to me all you want,” Søren said. “We both know the truth.”

He pushed a finger inside her, and she spread her legs for him, too well trained to stop herself. She could safe out. But then he’d stop. Wait, wasn’t that the point? Nora had forgotten the point. How could she remember the point when he was massaging all those little places in her that made her so wet when he touched them?

“This is what you came here for, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“No, I came to ask you a favor.”

“I’d hardly call this a favor,” he said into her ear. “I’m more than happy to do it.”

She held on to his biceps to steady herself. She could feel the tension in his muscles. Knowing him, what he most wanted to do was push her down on his bed, stick her with needles again and fuck her blind. She wasn’t entirely opposed to this idea.

“I wanted to ask you...” she said between breaths, “please don’t come to the Midsummer party. It’ll be hard enough without you there, but if you’re there...”

“If I grant you this favor, what will you give me in return?”

“Me. Right now.”

Søren pulled his hand out of her panties, took her by the back of the hair and pushed her to the bed. He put her on her back near the footboard and knelt between her legs. He yanked her underwear off and tossed them aside. His black T-shirt came off next, but when she reached for the button on his pants, he grabbed her wrists and pushed them down into the bed, pinning her against the sheets. He did it quickly, with terrifying grace and strength.

“My dungeon,” he said. “My rules.”

Søren squeezed her wrists to the point of pain. With Kingsley she would have fought the pain and her urge to cry out. But not with Søren. He needed her pain and she gave it to him freely. His thumbs pushed into the tendon of her wrists and the pain was unbearable. She bore it anyway. The relief when he released her was almost as intense as the pain had been. He opened his pants and nudged her thighs wide-open with his knees. With a slow thrust he entered her. Once inside her, he gently wrapped his fingers around her throat. One hand on her throat...one hand over her mouth, muffling her moans. She could still safe out if she needed to by snapping her fingers in his ear. This wasn’t the first time he’d used his own hand to gag her while he fucked her.

Nora lifted her hips to take him deeper. Søren’s eyes were closed as he moved in her, the fingers on her neck pressing in with each thrust, relaxing with each retreat. Not once did he choke her, cut off her air supply or even push hard enough to scare her. His hand wasn’t there to hurt her or choke her. No...he’d made a collar of his own fingers.

He moved slowly, every movement deliberate.

“You miss this,” he said, punctuating his words with a hard sharp thrust.

She bit his hand, a signal she wanted to speak, and he uncovered her mouth.

“I can have sex whenever I want it with whoever I want.”

“It wasn’t sex I was talking about. You miss being dominated.”

“Not enough to come back to you.”

“But you will...eventually you will.”

She wanted to deny it and would have, but he put his hand over her mouth again to silence her. He fucked her harder now, faster, rougher. His thrusts were possessive. He had a point to make and he was going to make it no matter how much it hurt her. And it did hurt. Beautiful pain, intimate pain, extravagant pain. She panted behind his hand, moaned even as her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts. They moved in tandem, knowing each other’s bodies so well they could have danced this dance blindfolded and in the dark. No one made her feel quite like Søren did. No one filled her as he filled her. No one fucked her as he fucked her. No one loved her as he loved her. That’s what made leaving him so difficult and so necessary. She would never be herself if she went back to him. She would be his and she would like it. She’d love it even as she loved him. But who wanted to be the sort of person who loved being in prison?

The pressure in her body increased. She felt it from her lungs to her knees. She had to come. She was almost there. Søren moved his hand from her mouth and slipped it between her legs. She cried out as he caressed that sensitive spot where their bodies met and joined, the pad of his thumb toying with the ring. Nora’s body went still as her orgasm shot through her, setting her inner muscles to clenching, her vagina pulsing all around him. With the slightest intake of air, Søren came inside her, and she felt the warm fluid spilling into her and out onto his sheets.

Søren rested his body against hers as the last contractions came and faded. Nora laughed softly and Søren pulled up and looked down at her.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I would have let you fuck me even if you hadn’t agreed not to come to the Midsummer party.”

“I wasn’t planning to come to the party anyway.”

She wanted to slap him for that, for manipulating her into submitting to him. But she’d been manipulating him, as well.

“So I was right, I guess. You can’t be bought,” she said.

“When did I say I couldn’t be bought?” Søren asked as he buttoned his pants and ran a hand through his hair. Everything back to normal now. Or at least their version of normal.

“I said it. To Milady.”

“The dominatrix?”

“We had a little run-in the other night.”

“You’ve picked a formidable enemy in her. She’s fairly notorious for being exceptionally cruel. Masochists adore her.”

“And she’s actually more arrogant than you are. Hard to believe, right?”

“Unfathomable.”

“She threatened me with you. She threatened to expose you. Is it possible she knows your real name or where you work?”

“Possible, yes. I wouldn’t worry about me, however. If I have to speak to her, I will.”

“Watch out, she’ll try to bribe you into submitting to her. I told her you couldn’t be bought, that she’d be wasting her time. It probably turned her on.”

“I can be bought, but not with money.”

“Then what?”

“If it meant your happiness, Eleanor, if it meant bringing you home to me, I’d sell my own soul.”

She pursed her lips at him. “We both know you don’t mean that.”

“Only because selling my soul wouldn’t work. Not even the devil would dare cross swords with you. If he tried to drag you home to me, he’d end up on your St. Andrew’s Cross.”

“I’d make him like it, too.”

“I’m certain you would.”

“We’re talking about Kingsley, aren’t we?” Nora asked.

“Who else?”

Nora reached for the doorknob intending to leave, but she stopped first.

“You have a session with Simone.”

“Yes, soon.”

“You see her often?” Nora asked.

“Once a week. She’s a wonderful masochist. Discreet. Kind. High pain tolerance. She asks for no more than I’m comfortable giving her.” She didn’t expect sex, in other words.

“Are you ever going to have sex with her?” Nora asked.

“Would it displease you if I did?”

“Considering I’ve been with other people since I’ve come back...it wouldn’t be fair of me to begrudge you for...you know...”

“Exploiting my newfound freedom to its fullest?” He raised his eyebrow.

“That.”

“I have no intention of breaking my vows with anyone but you, Eleanor. I can’t promise I won’t fail in this. I’ve failed before, as you know.”

“Kingsley doesn’t count.”

“Kingsley counts most of all.” He said the words in such a way she could have sworn she heard an ominous rumble of thunder in the distance.

“I know. I know he does. You know what I mean. He’s one of your three nonnegotiables, right?”

“Even when I want to string him up by his testicles, yes.”

“It might be good for you if you did see someone else. Might calm those testicle-stringing-up urges a little.”

“You don’t want me waiting for you to come back to me, do you?”

“If you do, you’ll be waiting a very long time.”

“I can wait.”

“Out of love for me, or because you’re punishing me?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Søren said.

“You sure about that?”

Søren smiled and it was a sort of smile she hadn’t seen from him before, a smile that scared her.

“Trust me, Little One, when I decide to punish you, you’ll know it.”

Nora swallowed hard but kept her composure.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“You can stay and watch if you like. Simone will be here any minute.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, unlocking the door, wanting to run from him but determined instead to simply walk away. “Søren...”

“Yes?”

“I can’t come back to you, but I know what you need, and I know sometimes I’m the only person who can give it to you. So if you ever do need me, I will come to you.”

“You shouldn’t make such a promise, Little One.”

“Why not?”

“I always need you.”

Nora felt the words like a slap. She would have preferred the slap. Without another word she opened the door and stepped into the hall in time to see Simone walking toward her. A pretty girl in her midtwenties, Simone had rainbow-striped hair and a dozen or more piercings. She was also a PhD student in international relations. When Søren wasn’t beating her on his St. Andrew’s Cross, he was helping her with her doctoral thesis since he’d written two of his own. Kink made for strange bedfellows in their world. Even stranger friendships sometimes.

“Mistress?” Simone greeted her as she came to Søren’s dungeon door. Nora still had her hand on the doorknob behind her. “Something wrong?”

“No. Don’t worry, dear.” Nora put on a fake smile and kissed Simone quickly on the cheek. “Have fun. I warmed him up for you.”

She pulled out her keys and slipped into her own dungeon. The decorator was gone, the workmen were gone. She was alone at last in her beautiful brand-new dungeon. And it was beautiful. Everything she’d dreamed it would be. The front room looked as if it had been plucked out of the Moulin Rouge. Everything—the sheets, the pillows, the love seat, the rugs—red and gold and decadent. The dungeon itself was a beautiful nightmare—rows upon rows of crops hung on the wall in order of length, floggers were arrayed in order of weight and canes arranged by thickness. The medical bed for her medical fetishists sat in one corner. A St. Andrew’s Cross stood along the far wall. And right in the center was her throne. Perfect. She could live in this room. If she had as many clients as Kingsley warned her she would, she just might end up living here. But there was still a week to go before the Midsummer Night’s Fling and she hadn’t seen one client yet. Not even Kingsley, who’d promised to be her first. Then again, she hadn’t passed his stupid test yet. She should forget about passing it and just jump him one night and take him against his will. From what he’d told her about his first time with Søren, he’d probably enjoy it.

Nora stepped out of her dungeon and back into the bedroom.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw someone standing by the bed.

“Sorry,” he said. “The door was unlocked.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I hope that wasn’t a literal statement,” he said.

“Figurative.”

“Whew.” He ran his hand over his brow.

“Thorny, right? That was your name?” she asked, recognizing him as the man on Milady’s cross at the Body House.

“That’s me.” He smiled and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. He wore a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had nice arms, sculpted biceps, but she imagined he’d gone sleeveless to show off his beautiful tattoos. She would have, too, if she had ink like that.

“Can I help you with something?” Nora asked.

“No, but I can help you with something.”

“I didn’t know I needed help.”

“You pissed off Milady. Trust me, you need help.”

Nora gave a slight rueful laugh. “Yes, I hear I’ve made a formidable enemy.”

“I know one of her slaves. She’s planning on fucking with you at the Midsummer Fling. I wanted to warn you about that. Not sure what she’s going to do, but I’m guessing it’ll be some kind of challenge.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the heads-up.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask why you’re telling me this? I mean, you and I barely know each other and, as you know, pissing Milady off is apparently not a good idea.”

“I like pain,” he said.

“Who doesn’t? But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m getting there. I like pain, but I hate whips. My father used to whip me with a switch. Feels a lot like a single-tail. Floggers are great. A good flogging is the greatest thing ever but whips are my hard limit.”

“She paid you to get over that.”

“I should have asked for more money. But you...you stood up for me when she was beating me. You stepped between me and a whip and not that many people would do that for a whore, no matter how cute I am.”

“You’re not a whore.”

“Yes, I am. It’s on my business cards. See?” Thorny pulled his wallet out of his pocket and passed her a business card covered in scrolling thorned vines.

Thorny, Whore for Hire.

“Wow. It really does say whore on your business cards. Look, Thorny, I don’t care that you’re an escort. I do care that she was beating someone who had safed out.”

“That’s why I’m here. I owe you.”

“Do you know what Milady’s planning?”

“If I had to guess I’d say she’ll probably do something to try to make you look weak in front of everybody.”

“Every domme’s nightmare.”

“Don’t freak out. Just do what they do in prison—find the biggest, baddest guy in the club and destroy him. You defeat the alpha and you become the alpha. That’s how it works.”

“Good advice, Thorny. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mistress. Always good to get on a domme’s good side. Now if you’ll excuse me, my favorite client is waiting for me. She gives me wood.”

“Hot, is she?”

“Yes. But she’s also a lumber heiress. She’s bringing me some nice high-grade maple tonight. I’m making my own bed.”

“You’re weird, Thorny. I like that about you.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” He playfully bowed to her and turned to leave.

“Thorny?” Nora called out.

“Yes, Mistress?” he said as he turned on his heel to face her.

“Is it hard?”

“Not at the moment, but if you took your clothes off that would help.”

She gave him the look that would send future clients wondering if their health insurance covered dungeon-related injuries.

“Oh, you mean the job?” Thorny said. “It’s a good job if you’re the right person to do it. And I am. My clients are all women. Professional women who are rich, successful, busy. Too busy for a serious relationship. They call me and I give them a night or a week. Whatever they need. I give the best Boyfriend Experience in the state, and it’s all the fun.”

“What about you? You don’t want a serious relationship?”

“I can’t have one,” he said with a shrug.

“Why? Just because you’re an escort?”

“No,” he said. “Because I’m dying.”

Nora’s eyes widened and Thorny laughed.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to drop dead here and now, right this second. Wait. I might actually. I have a brain aneurysm. It could burst today. It could burst ten years from now. It could never burst. But I don’t know when it will, and when you live with the fear you can go any minute, the last thing you want to do is drag someone else into that nightmare. Not a wife. Definitely not kids.”

“I’m... I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m at peace about it. Getting the shit beat out of me regularly helps keep things in perspective.”

“Is this why you and Milady were...close?”

“I was her sub for a while. Until you came along I thought all dominatrixes were like her.”

“Like her how?”

“Like they did what they wanted to do to you without taking your feelings into consideration.”

“Bad dominatrixes do that. The good ones are there for the client’s needs, not their own.”

“I get that now. Before I thought it was just the way it was, but I kept going back to her, because she was so good at giving me pain and getting me into subspace. Pain takes me out of myself, helps me forget for a while.”

“Subspace is good for that. I understand.”

“Choosing to be in pain helped me get to stage five of the grieving process.”

“Stage five is acceptance, right?”

“Right. Acceptance and tattooing.”

Nora laughed. “Getting tattoos is part of your grieving process?”

“When one part of your body is out of your control, it feels good to take control of another part. I can’t do anything about my brain, but I could master my skin. With ink and kink.”

“The tattoos are beautiful. I thought so the night I met you. All thorns, no roses.”

He held out his arm so she could see them close up. With her fingers she traced the winding thorny vine tattoos from his shoulder to his wrist.

“‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may / Old Time is still a-flying / And this same flower that smiles today / Tomorrow will be dying.’” Nora recited the famous Robert Herrick poem.

“Exactly,” Thorny said. “I want to live my life so that when I die, there’s not a single rosebud left on the bush. I will have picked them all and there’s nothing left on the ground but stems and thorns. Gathering rosebuds sounds much more romantic than notching the bedpost, right? And it’s better for the bed, too. Seriously, I notched my bedpost so much it broke off.”

“Hence the lumber heiress,” she said.

He pointed at her. “Precisely. Speaking of, I’m late for a very important date.”

“Here’s your card back.”

“Keep it,” Thorny said. “Who knows? You might need the Boyfriend Experience someday.”

Nora walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“I just might. I’ve never had a real boyfriend before. Go have fun with your wood.”

“I always do.” In her doorway he stopped and turned back. “Oh, one more piece of advice, Mistress. You know, from one flesh peddler to another.”

“I’ll take all the advice I can get.”

“I like my clients. I love my work. But never forget, you’re not there to make friends. You’re there to do a job. Don’t get personally involved with your clients. And whatever you do, always get your money up front.”

With that he gave her a wink and walked out of her dungeon.

And then it hit her like a slap to the face—a really sexy slap that’s the precursor to hair pulling and rough and dirty sex. That kind of slap. The best kind of slap.

Always get your money up front.

Nora fished in her bag for her cell phone Kingsley had bought for her. She dialed his number and when Juliette answered, she asked for Kingsley.

“Oui, Maîtresse?” Kingsley said.

“Come to my dungeon tonight at nine.”

“Why?”

“Because I have good news,” she said. “I know how to pass your test.”