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“I never took you for the rough type,” Diana said, glancing at the tie.
He could see the wariness in her dark, narrow blue eyes as she sat back. “Do you not like it rough, Diana?”
“I-I do,” she said. “But it’s been so long since I’ve done anything kinky-”
Hudson grab Diana’s hands and pushed her down onto the bed, holding her arms above her head, before securing it with his tie.
“Does being bound make you so uncomfortable, Diana?” he asked, his breathing uneven as he watched her eyes darken with anxiety.
He was in control. In the bedroom, he was always in control. This was his cage and she was his plaything. Diana knew the rules, but sometimes she liked to forget. Hudson would of course have to show her once again who had the last say and frankly, she wasn’t going to be able to speak much when he was done with her.
She laughed nervously. “A little yes, because we never discussed kinky sex.”
“Good,” he said as he spread her legs apart and fucked her hard that night.
He watched as she arched her back and moaned. He watched as she struggled to touch him. He watched as she came undone.
Her body writhed beneath him and he kept on going until he had come too, his long fingers sliding over her sweaty body as desire travelled through him.
“I love you, Hudson,” Diana whispered breathlessly. “I love you so much.”
Diana loved it when he told her that he loved her back. He had learnt over time how to use certain words to get what he wanted.
“I love you too,” he said blankly, as he undid her hands and then he quickly got off the bed to have a cold shower.
11
Cassiopeia
Parker
TheCassiopeia. The Twenty-Third Annual Charity Ball is on a luxurious superyacht called the Cassiopeia that sits on a tranquil Hudson River.
Its shiny, white painted body reflects on the surface of the dark water as I stand on the deck and lean over the rails to peer into the water.
“Parker!”
I stand up straight and turn around to see my parents approaching. My mother’s arms are wide open and before I can prepare myself, she grabs me in her arms and squeezes my next breath out of me.
I make my eyes big at my dad for help, but he just smiles and waits patiently until my mother lets go of me.
“How are you, dad?” I ask as I hug my father.
“I’m good and you? How is college life treating my girl?” he asks.
I let go of my dad and stand back. “I’m good and college is good. I’m thinking of joining a publishing house as an intern very soon though,” I tell them.
My mother and father are gorgeous as ever, with my mother in a sweeping red dress and my father in the conventional Tux.
“I can get my secretary to email you some favourable references on Monday,” my father tells me.
“Sure, that would be nice, considering that I don’t know where to start.”
“You look gorgeous,” my mother gushes as she studies my dress.
A few servers dressed in crisp white shirts and black pants move in our direction with iced champagne flutes that have edible gold floating on the top.
We each take a flute and join the rest of the crowd as everyone gathers near a stage that has been set up on the deck.
