Home > The Deep End (Honey #1)(9)

The Deep End (Honey #1)(9)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Go hit that, tigress,” Mirabelle urged, and Amélie looked to her.

Before she could say a word, Mirabelle continued.

“Get in there. Three times here, he’ll have heard of you. He’ll be holding out in hopes you’ll be extending the invitation to initiating him to our playrooms. I know it.” She leaned across the table. “Rock his world, lovely.”

She studied her friend, the open excitement, the budding love she was experiencing with her submissive, that time when life takes on clarity so pure and extraordinary, you want everyone to experience it with you.

She turned her head to the beast.

Years of experience only marred twice by two toys she’d had who held great promise, but who eventually fell short of the real thing, taught her that tonight, she would definitely enjoy herself.

But he might be champagne. He might be bourbon. He might, surprisingly, be cognac or port.

The bottom line was that she had to keep expectations low so she wouldn’t be devastated when he didn’t turn out to be top-shelf whisky.

two

Rainbow?

AMÉLIE

She slid out of the booth with murmurings of “good night” and “have fun,” taking her stiletto-heeled-sandal-shod feet with the will of steel her mother had begun the process of instilling in her and her training as a Domme had completed.

She could not have her legs give out on her and she could not expose her nervous anticipation.

And she wouldn’t.

But, God, she had not felt like this in years. That sub she’d spied or she’d had who was so promising or such a transcendent experience to play with that she could barely control her own reactions to exploring that promise or again feeling the wholeness, togetherness, oneness with another.

She moved in his direction, no game playing. She didn’t even glance at Stellan in his booth.

Amélie didn’t participate in those games, not ever. There was no reason for her to be coy with a sub.

And she moved with the gait and bearing that it was solely her mother who’d ingrained in her in the sporadic times they’d had together, doing it with an unrelenting fervor that it would take the threat of death to force her to move any other way.

Chin up. Shoulders straight and slightly back. A sway of her hips so subtle, it was elusive. Long, confident strides.

Amélie could walk a catwalk.

She could also make a specimen she was approaching get so hard his cock was aching by the time she made it to him.

She hadn’t even gone halfway when he sensed her approach and she was gratified that his response was instantaneous.

He pushed from the wall. He turned fully to face her. And she felt his eyes drop, not with the respect a sub owed a Domme, but to take her in from sandals to hair.

Then his gaze locked on hers and he didn’t look away.

He didn’t look away.

He watched her approach not like he was taking the risky liberty he was taking but like it was his God-given right.

Amélie felt her clit quiver.

She arrived at him, stopping several feet away, knowing that the minute her body language made it clear she was going in for the capture, most eyes in the room, if not all, were on her.

She did not care about this. Not that she’d ever care about this (which she wouldn’t), but because, now close to him, she found to her enchanted surprise, he was not big.

He was colossal.

A mighty beast.

A magnificent beast.

Exquisite.

He was not six foot five. He was at least six-six, more likely six-seven. A mountain of compacted muscle encased in a very fine, very expensive suit.

Taking him in, in proximity, she wanted him more than she’d already wanted him. She wanted no boundaries. She wanted everything. Her diverse skill set, experience, imagination, creativity, and if it came down to it, sheer determination and grit, she’d utilize it all to wring him dry in a way he’d contemplate murder in order to have the opportunity to come back for more.

She was on the verge of speaking when he did.

His direct gaze appreciative, an arrogant smile curving his full lips, he asked, “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

She froze.

Full eye contact. Speaking without being spoken to. Using an unconsented and unearned endearment.

The already damp gusset of her panties soaked to the point her wet crept up the silk of her front and back sides.

But her brows snapped together, her censure clear, and her lips ordered, “Follow me.”

She shifted on her sandal and strode toward the door to the playrooms.

She did this and did not look back to see if he followed.

A feeling so foreign she almost didn’t recognize it, that being fear of rejection, stole through her belly as she moved unerringly toward the door.

The feeling melted and elation replaced it as she felt him following.

She stopped at the door, moving slightly to the side, and he finally demonstrated his understanding of the game. He opened the door for her and held it as she moved through.

However, he did this with his eyes firmly planted on her breasts.

He was deliciously unbelievable.

He was not green, even though his actions might communicate that. Aryas didn’t allow beginner subs to roam the hunting ground. He allowed membership to them and they were available for play to only a small cadre of Aryas-approved Dominants who would guide them through the submissive experience with unerring attention to detail.

Amélie was an approved Domme. Even so, she had long since stopped partaking. She had a wealth of patience, but she also had a wealth of practice.

   
Most Popular
» Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University #1)
» Kill Switch (Devil's Night #3)
» Hold Me Today (Put A Ring On It #1)
» Spinning Silver
» Birthday Girl
» A Nordic King (Royal Romance #3)
» The Wild Heir (Royal Romance #2)
» The Swedish Prince (Royal Romance #1)
» Nothing Personal (Karina Halle)
» My Life in Shambles
» The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen #4)
» The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)
romance.readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024