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“I thought my deportment was so unacceptable, you’d left forever.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Tessa. Your behavior is as transparent as glass. You’re damned impatient and defiant. Those are not virtues in a submissive. In fact, they could be your undoing, especially when you defy all previous assumptions with the stunt you pulled tonight.”
“But your nights with Martine,” she protested, “isn’t that some kind of clue to your intentions?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t be screwing Martine, if I’d left you.”
“Oh, so that’s suppose to be some sign of your affection for me? She’s just a way to get to me? She means that little to you?” Her voice was high pitched, quite unlike herself.
He jerked her head with his hand, her chin held fast, so she was looking directly into his face.
“Hush!” he said icily. “My relationship with Martine is no business of yours. For a woman in your position, you’re making blunders you will regret.” He let go of her chin. “Put you face on the floor,” he ordered.
Tessa bent down with her head resting on the floor, her face pressed against the plush blue carpeting. Her fingers played with the tufts of fuzz. His hand pushed her down even more, so her breasts were pressed against the carpet. He smacked her ass until she was sure it was bright red.
“I’m sorry, Miles,” she said meekly when he stopped.
“You don’t know what sorry is, not yet.” He sat back in silence, content to watch her grovel before him.
She finally lifted her head slightly, thinking it was safe. “This is Damien’s ball, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice quiet and inoffensive.
“Could be Damien’s hell for you!” He leaned forward and smacked her again, until she groaned from the pain.
He stared at her tear-stained face and smudged make-up. She was beautiful, even like this, and his mood softened.
“Perhaps you are ready, after what I saw earlier.”
“You mean at the club?”
“Blatantly tawdry. I don’t excuse your willfulness, but you did capture the essence of a good exhibitionist,” he commented.
“It was my mood,” she said.
“Well don’t forget the mood, you’re going to have to marshal all your forces tonight.”
This was not the beginning that Tessa hoped for. She’d always imagined a heady wine, a lush dinner, and a seductive eroticism between the two. He’d help her dress. She’d pant with delicious expectation. By the time they arrived at Damien’s vulgar ball, they’d both be ready for the night, in the mood for the mystery.
On the floor at his feet, with an angered Miles looming over her, the trip to the ball took on a consi
derably different aspect, one that Miles seemed unready to change.
In Damien’s house, Miles escorted Tessa to a room she’d not seen on her previous trip there. It was a simple living room, furnished with leather couches, and a softer palette of colors than those that decorated Damien’s masculine study. With a vase of fresh cut flowers on the coffee table, it was clear that this room had had a woman’s touch.
Neither Tessa nor Miles spoke. Their earlier discussions in the limo had failed to restore the tender bond they’d shared in the past. Tessa assumed this was the way he wanted things to remain, for he did nothing to thaw his icy demeanor. As Tessa waited beside the door, Miles strolled about the room gazing at paintings Tessa realized were likely his work.
Their wait was brief. Minutes after their arrival, Damien and two valets came through a door at the other end of the room.
“She’s yours, Damien,” Miles said, “I have places to go.”
Damien nodded first at Miles, then at Tessa, his own impeccable cool intact.
“I wouldn’t suggest you hold back on her, she’s been insolent and shamelessly indiscreet. I’d have already flogged her if I hadn’t known I’d be bringing her here tonight.”
“It isn’t my job to discipline your recalcitrant concubine, Miles,” Damien returned, “This is a night of pleasure.”
“Then pleasure yourselves with her. You have free reign. I’ll return—tomorrow at this time?” he asked.
“If she’s finished. You know we don’t interrupt anything.”
