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She quickly wound her hair up into a knot on the top of her head and crossed to the vanity to reapply her blood red lipstick. After adding a fresh coat of mascara to her lashes, she was mostly presentable. She was ready—or as ready as she would ever be to face a crazed maniac who had threatened to kill her.
Eleanor hurried to fetch her crop from where she had thrown it during her session with Frank. She gripped the instrument in her hands tightly, reminding herself that she wasn’t defenseless. She had drawn blood with this crop once tonight, albeit unintentionally, and she could do it again.
She had also managed to do some damage with her shoes, and there was no way this loser could be as big as Frank. If he was that manly, he wouldn’t have to resort to writing threatening letters to a woman half his size.
“Right,” she whispered aloud.
With a deep breath, she took up her customary position in the center of the room.
“Mistress, may I enter?” came a raspy, hushed voice from the west dressing room seconds later.
Shit, it was him.
It was time to step into character. Ready or not, her homicidal maniac had arrived.
CHAPTER NINE
Frank
“Enter, slave.” Eleanor’s voice sounded from the room, her tone twice as haughty as it had been when he had first entered her parlor.
Frank was impressed, but still worried. He didn’t want her out there alone. What had sounded like an acceptable course of action when he hadn’t known Eleanor—hadn’t tasted her, touched her, watched the walls behind her eyes come crashing down as she abandoned herself to pleasure—did not seem acceptable now.
Sure, he could see her on the surveillance monitor and would be able to reach her in seconds, but it didn’t feel like enough. He felt unprepared. Of course, when he had been prepping himself and the team for this moment, he’d had no idea that he would be emotionally invested in the outcome.
He had come here wanting to do a good job for his queen, to protect her estranged stepmother. Now, he was sitting in this dressing room, sweating his balls off, determined to save the life of a woman he wanted for his own.
He would bet his left arm that tonight had been her first time in the submissive role, but she had taken to it like a fish finding water. The trust she’d given him so freely had overwhelmed him. He didn’t want another man to be on the receiving end of that kind of trust. It would be too easy to abuse her, to take advantage of her while she was new to the scene. And she would be new to the scene. There was no way she would be able to resist another experience after what they’d done tonight.
She would start to crave the freedom of submission, and he was already craving the sweet responsibility of instructing her in the art.
You’re craving more than the privilege of instructing her. You want her, man, all of her.
As if on cue, his cock started to swell and thicken, recovering from the softening brought on by Nate’s untimely appearance on the scene. Thank God the kid had shown up, or Frank might not have been able to stop himself from finishing what they’d started. He’d only meant to kill a little time and relax Eleanor in the process. He’d never intended for things to go so far or imagined that he would be tempted to take things further.
By the time she’d begged him to fuck her, he’d nearly forgotten the reasons he shouldn’t. What did a dozen men waiting for his command and a suspected stalker on the way matter when his cock felt like it would explode if he didn’t get inside Eleanor?
The taste of her still lingered in his mouth, sweet and addictive. She tasted clean yet decadent, a compelling mix of innocence and abandon.
It made him wonder…who was the real Eleanor? Was she the woman she’d given him a glimpse of—a widow betrayed by a confused teenager? Or was she a better actress than he had assumed, the kind of woman who knew how to read her clients and give them what they wanted, even if it wasn’t something usually on the menu?
Frank felt a knot form in his chest as suspicion took root. Could she have taken him for a ride? He’d never hired a woman for pleasure; what did he really know about the way the transactions worked?
Watching Eleanor prowl the center of the room with complete confidence in the presence of a man she assumed was a psychopath made him wonder—was he the teacher or th
e student in their relationship?
“Hello.” The odd voice sounded from the opposite side of the room. Frank forced his mind back to the work at hand. There would be time to dissect his relationship with Eleanor after he made sure she was safe.
Relationship. He’d just thought of what they had as a relationship.
Damn, he really was in trouble.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Eleanor’s client spoke again, soft and scratchy. He was clearly trying to manipulate his voice, which made Frank nervous. He’d never heard the man speak, but maybe Eleanor had.
Why else would he be attempting to disguise his voice? Maybe Eleanor’s stalker was someone she knew. That would explain why the man was still in his disguise.
In over a month of tailing him, no one had seen the man out of that wide-brimmed hat he kept pulled low over his features. Frank’s people had been tracking him long enough to know that Eleanor wasn’t the only woman he had been stalking. The sicko was a busy man, terrorizing half the sex workers in the city. So far he hadn’t acted on any of his twisted threats, but he was still managing to inflict serious damage.
