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SEVEN
Jarradek
I take one final moment to admire the writing across my taut lower belly before I drop my shirt and find my trousers. A fucking stroke of genius that. Nevermind the effect on Lady Mel, it’s doing things to me, and has been since I wrote the words there. I have just redrawn them after showering, making sure I’m groomed and fresh and ready to please her.
God, I hope I can please her. Something tells me she’s not going to make it easy on me.
The West Boulevard Hotel is one of my favorite spots in Heartstone. The staff are well-trained and discreet, and the rooms are well-appointed with excellent views. Almost as good as my penthouse. As much as I’d like to host her at my place, I need to know her a little better before I do that.
The evening is a beautiful one. Lights twinkle across the city as the last smudge of orange fades on the horizon and night takes hold.
My cock is already semi-hard. I’ve been waiting all day for this. I ignore it, however, and run over my game plan in my head one more time.
It’s clear she didn’t enjoy my story the other night. So I need to keep my mouth shut and be respectful, and pray she gives me what I need so badly. I haven’t come since I wrote the words on my belly two nights ago. It didn’t feel right. I haven’t gone this long without coming since I was about twelve, and I hope I haven’t made a terrible mistake. It would be mighty embarrassing to spill on her leg or her palm like a fucking calf.
A knock at the door makes me spin. I hurry over to open it and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She’s wearing a simple black dress under a slightly faded jacket and the black heels she wore to dinner the other night. No jewelry adorns her neck or ears or fingers. She doesn’t need it. The beauty in her stern face is breathtaking. Yet it makes me yearn to buy her pretty things.
“My Lady.” I hold the door open and stand aside so she can enter.
Her gaze sweeps the room.
“Huh. Nice.”
Not the reaction I was hoping for, but it could be worse.
She walks to the coffee table and sets down her bag, then she continues to the floor to ceiling windows looking out over the city. I drift into place behind her, longing to touch her, but trace the contours of her neck and shoulders with my eyes instead.
“You made your list?” She doesn’t turn.
“Yes, My Lady.”
“Tell me.”
“Hard limits are anything public. Marks on my body that people could see, branding, wax play, cock cages, chastity, knife play, feminization, and ahem... piss and scat.” I did my research.
She coughs. “Fine. Good. Soft limits?”
“Pegging? Assplay.” I can’t believe I’m saying this, but under the right conditions, I’d consider it. After all, I’m here to test my boundaries. To find the new and exciting, right?
She makes that little huffing sound again. I can’t decide if she’s impressed or amused. “Desires.”
