Page 82 of His Keepsake

The blitz of sensation was momentary while I tensed and shuddered. I was left wrung out for a few seconds while I tried to breathe without making horribly loud sounds. I didn’t think anyone had noticed, but I had.

I slowly panted down from that higher plane of existence, hyperaware that my panties were a slick mess in the crotch area. Carefully, I pulled my fingers out of my skirt, hiding the marks from the pressing of the elastic on my wrist.

No one said good girl or anything. Grayson and Axl re-commenced some inane conversation and behaved as if nothing had happened.

When we landed and walked through the busy airport, it felt like a letdown. A man called Lukas or Leon met us. His name was something German, but I didn’t catch it and he guided us to the parking lot, where a long black limo with a chauffeur waited. The engine was running, so someone had messaged ahead. I ran my hand over the smooth reflective paint.

“Impressive. Are you sure you aren’t my sugar daddies?”

The dark-suited bodyguard almost smiled—I saw his lips twitch.

“You know we aren’t. Grayson?” Axl opened the passenger door.

“Everything is organized. Hey, Axl, Lukas wants to see the show tonight, too.”

Suspicious, I eyed them and the bodyguard-cross-translator who looked as if he did bench presses using elephants. I didn’t know German and Grayson and the bodyguard had been talking on the way here.

“The show? I promise it will be good. I thought he was going to be there anyway, unless you want him outside in the car?”

“No. Good! I said he could come inside. Get in, Emme.” Grayson gestured at the door, and I slid in next to Axl. I pulled my skirt straight and was grateful I had several layers between my panties and the seat cover.

Our suitcases were tossed into the trunk, and Grayson joined us in the back, while Lukas sat up front. The limo set off, winding down the levels and headed onto busy roads toward whatever accommodation they had arranged.

Sitting between Axl and Grayson, I felt vulnerable and skittish. Four men were in this car, and I knew none of them well. “Why Germany? Have you something special in mind?”

Axl answered, “We have a club slash restaurant to go to tonight, and my yacht is off the coast at St Helier.”

“But that’s nowhere near here.”

“Berlin has more night life. Flying to where my yacht is moored is easy. You’ll see. Now tell Daddy Grayson why you disobeyed us in the plane.”

“Daddy? I knew it.” I chortled.

Grayson swore a little under his breath before casually running his hand into my hair and twisting his fist into it. He grinned at the shock on my face and shook me, then scrunched his hand into a tighter hold. I gasped and wrapped my hands over his, plucked at them.

“No. Emme. Not unless you wish your bare ass paddled here, now.”

I couldn’t quite turn my head enough to meet Grayson’s eyes. “Let go!”

Rent by abrupt pain and feeling as if my hair might uproot from my scalp, I was torn between dragging my nails through his flesh, to make him stop, and wondering about the bodyguard. He had turned to look. The driver seemed unconcerned.

“Let go?” I tried again. “Please?”

“This is so you know to answer questions when I ask them, and that no one…” He shook my head again. “Who is employed by us will come to your aid if we don’t want them to. Okay?”

“Yesss.” I whimpered and managed not to scratch him.

“Lower your hands and put them on your lap.”

Slowly, teeth clenched, I obeyed.

“Excellent. Why didn’t you obey?”

“On the plane?”

He nodded.

“It was stupid and like a regular Dom would ask.” He wanted a real answer, didn’t he? If not, I may have doomed myself there.

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