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“She’ll take well to chains and rings, once she’s healed,” Maya said, standing back and admiring her work. The gold sparkled, as the sunlight brought out its brilliance. “Show her off, darling,” Maya said, as she pulled Tessa from the stool, and pulled the suit coat back around her shoulders. “Don’t let them get infected and don’t play with them until they’re healed,” the woman warned Miles.
“You’re telling me this?” he queried, feigning annoyance.
“I’m telling her,” Maya bitched back, pointing to the blonde.
“She’ll behave,” he said, as he took Tessa by the arm. “This should suffice,” he added, as he laid several green bills on her desk. With a seductive gleam in her dark eyes—as if she just been paid for turning a trick, Maya picked them up, counted them, and stuffed them down her dress.
Even though the shop was hot from the sun, Tessa was shivering. She wanted to leave, as if knowing that staying she might have ended up in the black woman’s bed—not that the prospects of that wouldn’t have been exciting, but she was too shaken by Miles’ world, by the curious throbbing at her breasts, and the strange feel of heavy metal pierced through her body. The liquor made her stomach squeamish, her mind an incoherent blur, and she leaned against her lover for support.
“I’ll pierce her cunt next time,” Maya insisted as she walked her customers to the door.
“When she deserves it,” Miles replied wryly, and they exited the shop, Miles eyebrows rising playfully at the woman who was fast disappearing from their view.
As they pair sat across from each other in the limousine, Miles’ cool mien covered her like a blanket of fog, He stared out the window, while Tessa watched his impassive face.
Gazing back at her, her finally spoke, “You’ve disappointed me.”
Had she done something horribly wrong? She wondered. “For hesitating, in the shop?” He didn’t answer.
“Then you’ll punish me?” she asked.
“In good time,” he confirmed with pursed lips, “but not until I’m ready.”
Moments later, the limousine stopped in front of her apartment building and he opened the door.
“Will I see you again?” she asked.
He snickered, “Of course. We’ve only begun, my dear Tessa. Just begun.”
Saying no more, he practically pushed her from the car, if not physically, certainly with his annoyed voice. He never did hand her back her dress, so she flew up the apartment stairs wearing just her stockings, garter belt, and his suit coat. Falling into her bed, she slept for hours.
The next morning, Tessa opened her eyes to see Martine staring down at her. The covers had strayed during the night, and she was naked to the woman’s inquisitive eyes.
“Trinket’s on your nipples, how lovely,” she purred like a cat. Leaning down, she gave the right one a good tug.
“Ouch! That hurts!”
“Oh, but they do make you look more like yourself.”
“How’s that?” Tessa asked.
“You’re the kind of woman who needs to be some man’s sexual trinket,” the saucy minx replied.
“That’s what Miles would say,” Tessa answered her.
“Then he must know you well.” Martine snickered as knowingly has Miles had the afternoon before.
Chapter Four
Miles invited Tessa to lunch three days later.
The symbols of his claim to her were becoming more comfortable and less painful each day. With the gold penetrating her nipples, she felt as bound to him as she might feel after being with someone for many years. Even so, Miles Bryce remained a mystery to Tessa Cotille.
The twinges in her breasts, the occasional throbbing, and especially the passing thoughts of this enigmatic man kept her body at a steamy edge, in anticipation; so much so, that when he called, she was ready to meet him anywhere and to do anything he asked. It was her hope that they would have a first sexual interlude, even if it were only to satisfy his needs and hers were left abandoned, again. Miles, however, saw things differently. Being in control of Tessa was more important to him than hopping into bed for a hasty fuck. He would wait, let the anticipation build, bring their energies to a boiling point before they broke steamily into an act of sexual release.
They lunched together in an elegant restaurant where they were sequestered in a semi-private booth. She was instructed to scoot in next to another man, Arturo. With Miles at her other side, she was wedged closely between the two; their combined domineering attitudes swam over her like a ocean wave—she became drowned in the sensation of submission.
“He wants to see your jewelry,” Miles told her, “show him.”
