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“It’s cold as hell out on the water at this time of year. I almost froze to death coming to rescue you. Plus, I was worried sick.”
I make a noncommittal noise.
“Come on, Emerson. Look at her tits. They’re perfect for it.”
“For what?” asks Daphne.
“Punishment,” says Sin. “I don’t suppose you have any items we could use.”
“Bedroom closet. Third drawer on the right, second row down.”
Daphne gasps, but Sin’s already walking away.
I turn her to face me. No tears line her eyes, but emotions glint in them, chasing each other across her expression. Daphne swallows hard.
“Little painter.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll tell us when you’re ready to apologize.” She is at once determined and relieved, as if she’d already decided to offer herself up. “But I still have a guest, and you won’t neglect him.” I pull her arms back over her head and walk her a few steps toward Will.
“I don’t like this,” he says, clutching his empty glass in his palm.
“Bullshit.”
Will rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but reach down to adjust himself.
“Look at my acquisition, Will.” His jaw works. “She’s here for you to look at. I’ve bound her to keep her still so you won’t be interrupted.”
“It’s a dick move,” he says, but he’s already looking at Daphne.
“Perhaps, but that’s irrelevant. What’s relevant is that she’s mine.” I catch his eye from my place just behind Daphne and try to communicate, silently, that this is a game we’re playing. That, in fact, Daphne likes this game. “Will.”
“What?”
“You thought we were going to fuck her together when you came in. Has something changed?”
“Yes.” He says, snappish and short. His resolve crumbles. I’m impressed he held it together for this long. Thank Christ. I don’t want Daphne to be uncomfortable for an instant because Will is trying to maintain the moral high ground. “I saw you and Sin putting your hands all over the art.”
“And you wanted a turn. I apologize, Will. I was rude. Would you like a private showing?”
Daphne moans, a quiet, bitten-off sound. It’s the conversation that’s turning her on. I’ll never get enough of her.
“Yes.” It’s fairly fascinating, watching him hide his desire in sullenness. I’d be far more interested if Daphne didn’t exist. But she does. I take her over to Will with her hands above her head, then pull them down behind her so her back is arched and all my marks are on display again.
He folds his arms over his stomach and looks.
“You can touch her, you know.”
“It’s rude to get your fingerprints on the art within the first minute of the showing.”
I almost laugh, but no. “I’ll do it for you, then.”
I get a better grip on Daphne’s wrists and turn her from side to side, letting Will see her from every angle this way. I cup my hand under her chin and make her arch her neck. I arrange her hair this way and that on her skin.
“There’s a certain appeal to the three-dimensional,” I say to Will, and turn her away from him. I pay particular attention to Daphne’s wrists, easing them from behind her head and pulling them in front of her.
Farther.
