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At such moments he knew the truth. Even if he became just one of her subs at The Zone, she was his Mistress. One and only.
He would accept that, make that be enough. Because to want more would be to ruin what he had today.
Chapter Fifteen
Her presentation was scheduled soon after they landed, so Regina had them do a quick check in at the hotel to drop off their stuff, and then Marius accompanied her to the offices nearby where she was doing her workshop. After she disappeared into the building, he walked a couple blocks to Harrah's Casino.
He studied the opulent logo lit up in neon outside the Roman-looking building and wandered into the casino. The flashing colors and incessant noise reminded him of a fight crowd, one he couldn't tune out by immersing himself in preparation for combat. He liked the intricate sculptures hanging from the ceiling, though. One looked like a sea king's chariot, surrounded by mermaids.
He headed out of the cacophony and toward the riverfront, where he bought himself a sandwich and listened to some live music.
He didn't let himself think about too much. His ass hurt every time he moved, since the denim chafed against the raw flesh. Since he'd still managed to get a hard-on numerous times since this morning, he was certain the straps of the cock harness would leave a permanent impression when it was removed. He was ready for that. His gaze slid to his wrist. He wasn't ready for the bracelet to be removed. He hoped she required him to wear it for the whol
e trip.
Eventually, he returned to the big office building, sitting down on a bench in a landscaped area. He watched a mix of panhandlers, tourists, business and street people. The sunshine made him sleepy, so he dozed off and on until she emerged.
When she did, everything else around her disappeared. Well, in a way. It did something powerful to a man's insides, seeing a woman he felt was his--at least for the moment-- out in public, dressed up for business, the whole world seeing only one side of her, when he knew so many more.
She'd removed her blazer, so the silky thin blouse molded to her curves with the fluttering breeze, the hint of her bra showing under the thin fabric. Her slacks outlined her hips, long thighs and incomparable firm ass.
But as good as all those things were, it was her face, the eyes hidden behind sunglasses, that held him. The auburn and black locs danced along her shoulders in shimmering ripples as she walked.
She'd seen him, her lips curving as if in genuine pleasure at seeing him waiting for her. When was the last time a woman had felt that way about him? And she'd made it impossible to tear himself down by saying she didn't know him well enough to know better. Because she did know him. Sometimes better than he knew himself.
When she sat down beside him, he presented her two gifts, a voodoo doll and a strand of sparkling beads. She held up the beads, her lips pursing. "Did they tell you women would flash their tits at you to get these?"
"Yes," he said solemnly. "I was told it works on any woman in New Orleans. So if I'm giving them to you, at some point, you'll have to show me your breasts."
"Look. They're right here. For all the world to see." She threw back her shoulders and posed side to side, making him chuckle.
"So unfair, Mistress."
"I know, I'm a bitch." She looked more closely at the voodoo doll and started laughing. "Who did this?"
"This guy up on Canal Street. You give him a few features, and he does the rest. He slaps the nametag on them, though, in case you don't recognize who it's supposed to be. I was pretty sure you wouldn't have that problem."
The doll's head was a ball of twine, the body of soft cloth. It appeared to have bulging biceps and was well stuffed under the denim trousers. It was also wearing a pair of handcuffs made out of a paper clip. She gestured to the distended groin area. "Someone may have exaggerated their attributes."
"Or underplayed them," he informed her.
She smoothed her hand over the paper tag that read Marius. Flipping it over, she noted the back said Duncan. Her gaze lifted to his.
"A voodoo doll is the ultimate gift for a Domme," he pointed out. "You can stick pins in it, tie it up, twist the dick into all sorts of knots, even when I'm not in front of you."
"It's far more fun to do it in person." She held the doll up next to him, comparing critically. "Still, the head made of yarn is a close match. And the biceps are pretty good." She tested his with her grip, caressing the muscles since he had his arm crooked on the back of the bench. Then she pinched the doll's. "They should have used something firmer, like concrete."
It pleased him, stupidly, he knew, so he pretended not to react to her approbation. "Well, he only had cotton."
"It's a very thoughtful gift. Thank you." She hung the beads around his neck, tugging on them. "Now you'll have to show me your bare chest when demand it. I need to go to the room to change so we can head for Dale's." She nodded in the direction of their hotel. The Belle Maison was only a few blocks over from their current location. "Stay here."
"I could go with you."
"No." She gave him an appraising look, and the flash of heat in her eyes startled him. "If I get you in a room right now, we won't leave anytime soon."
He rose when she did. "I can take care of your needs pretty damn fast, Mistress. And not worry about mine."
Her gaze heated. "Now that is a gift," she purred. "How fast?"
