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Tessa sat in the high-backed velvet chair for nearly three hours, fighting off the urge to sneeze from the fumes of cigar smoke. She waited on the men, bringing them drinks as they instructed her. Otherwise, she was ignored by them all, including Miles, who assumed a visage as icy as Damien’s. Only an occasional glance suggested that a couple of the men deliberately restrained their urge to play with her.
Tessa decided early on that this humbling interlude was a gesture by Miles to Damien: a message to him perhaps, that his submissive was indeed up to the task of compliant service. With that in mind, she played the part carefully, making certain not to falter at any point, for any reason.
When they left, Miles continued his vacant, icy manner. Where Tessa had hoped they would be together for a night, she was disappointed to find him dropping her at her apartment with no further sexual escapades. She would have begged to have him whip her raw, if only he would display some of the passion beneath the surface of his wintry cold. This ice was horrid to endure.
“I’ll be arranging things with Vincent,” he announced, as the apartment elevator came to a stop with a sudden jerk.
“For when?”
“Now how would I know that now?” he snapped.
“I guess I’m anxious,” Tessa offered.
“Much too anxious,” he replied.
Tessa entered the elevator and was on her way, without any inkling of affection from the man she loved.
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa’s doorbell blared its obnoxious noise until it woke her. “Sleeping in” was cut short. Glancing at the clock it was ten a.m.. She pulled herself from bed and threw a robe around her, dashing out of the room. The bell still buzzed offensively, and it did so until she finally opened the door.
With a broad smile and fitful laughing, Martine pushed her way past Tessa, with Miles and Vincent trailing.
“Why didn’t you use your key?” was on the tip of Tessa’s tongue to say, but she was too surprised by the men to speak at all.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Why I’d think you’d have that all figured out,” Miles said, cheerfully. His mood was one hundred and eighty degrees opposite what it had been two nights before, when he’d left her at the elevator. His quick changes always took her off guard.
Tessa had suspected that Miles and Martine were spending the night together when her roommate slipped out of the apartment the night before, with that typically vague smile of lust written on her arrogant face.
“We just had breakfast,” she announced, looking at Tessa haughtily. “Then we grabbed Vincent to come along. I’ve been dying to see you pierced, my love. I’ve always wondered what it would look like seeing a needle poke through your unwilling flesh.”
“You are horrible,” Tessa said.
The three plopped down in the living room with an unabashed insouciance. Tessa had never seen Miles so exuberant.
“I suppose, if you’ve had breakfast, I don’t need to make you coffee?” she asked.
“Do you have any beer?” Miles asked.
“In the morning?” Tessa countered.
“It’s almost noon,” he said.
“It is not!” she snapped back—to her surprise and theirs.
Miles didn’t seem to care what she said, or how she said it; though he did look as if he was keeping count of all her faults for later.
“C’mere,” he said, motioning her to him, “C’mere.” She hesitated, but he was patient.
Her robe had fallen open because she hadn’t taken the time to tie it. But she didn’t bother covering anything. Why should she be modest, when they’d all had a thorough knowledge of her body, sex and all?
Presenting herself to Miles with a pout on her face amused him. His expression was positively wicked, and though she knew what was likely to follow, she wondered what bizarre scheme he’d cooked up to accompany the ritual. The three of them looked much too inspired to have some mundane ceremony in mind. Martine was looking as amused as Miles, and Vincent was eyeing Tessa with a studied interest that sent a quick chill through her from head to toe.
Tessa stood to Miles’ left side as he lounged in a chair looking up at her. She realized that this was one of the few times that he’d been in her apartment. Unlike times before, he was planning to stay. Why here? Why now? she wondered. Why not pierce her in the dark confines of Maya’s salon, or the created theatre of the garret? Her apartment was bright and cheerful with sunlight streaming through the half closed blinds, hardly the place for decadent piercing rituals.
Miles fingered her nether jewelry as he looked at her face. She was aroused by his play, and though she remained placid, she gave herself away with the nectar seeping from her pussy.
