five
Courtesy
AMÉLIE
Wednesday evening at nine-thirty, when Amélie walked into the hunting ground, as it was not a difficult task, she spotted Olivier immediately.
He was standing, wearing another very nice suit, facing the door at a bar table in the middle of the room with his big hand wrapped around a pilsner glass of beer, three female subs sitting on stools around the table.
Amélie felt a pang of something she’d never felt before, it was unpleasant and extreme, before he noticed her arrival, smiled, and said not a word to his companions as he moved away from the table, taking his glass with him, and started walking toward her.
Denying her discomfiture even at the possibility she’d just experienced the wrench of jealousy, she watched his big body move.
He walked with an athletic bearing, but there was a slight lumber to his movements that she suspected any man of his size couldn’t quite get past, his frame not that of a linebacker, but a defensive end.
She stopped to await his arrival, and when she got it, he looked into her eyes, then at her mouth as he said, “Mistress Amélie.”
“Good evening, Olivier.”
He seemed to find that amusing, something she found enthralling, and to control that reaction, which was far more intense than it should be simply being in his presence for three seconds, she looked from him to cast her gaze around the room.
She felt her focus shift when she saw Mirabelle, alone, in a booth.
Where was Trey?
She looked back to Olivier and her focus shot right back.
She took half a step closer, and as he should when he didn’t have her permission to do anything else, he held his place.
He was in the mood to be good tonight.
That was titillating.
Though, she hoped he again felt in the mood to misbehave, and soon.
“Did you come to me as I asked?” she queried.
He gave her the gift of his teeth appearing, scraping his lower lip for only a beat before he answered, “Yeah.”
An altogether different pang hit her at knowing he’d harnessed himself for her.
She rewarded him by edging a little closer. “And, my chevalier, did you follow my instructions?”
This time, his answer was a disgruntled, “Yeah.”
She studied him, pleased to see it wasn’t that he disliked what she’d asked him to do, just that, in a good way, he disliked what she asked him to do and now was very ready to play.
“Excellent, mon chou. Go back to your friends.”
His heavy brow drew in at the bridge of his nose but she kept talking.
“Finish your drink. I need to have a word with Mistress Mirabelle.”
He shifted as if to scan the room but obviously decided against it, likely not being around long enough to know who Mirabelle was so taking his attention from her wasn’t worth it as he wouldn’t know where to look.
She lifted her hand and rested it lightly on his broad chest.
He looked down at her and she again had his complete attention.
“When I move toward the playrooms, you’ll follow me. Yes?” she ordered.
“Yes, Mistress.”
She struggled against her need to caress his cheek, sift her hands through the hair on his forehead, run her fingers along his jaw.
This struggle further concerned her as to her reaction to Olivier, for Amélie was known to be affectionate with her toys but not so publicly, unless it was a rare occasion where she led one to the social room.
He’s getting under your skin, Leigh, and fast, her mind warned.
“Go, my beast,” her lips said.
He nodded, stepped back a step that for other men would be two, shifting to the side.
Yes, he was being good. Not turning his back on her, as a good toy would do, he simply got out of her way.
She gave him an upward curve of her lips before she made her way to Mirabelle.
“Not going to immediately pounce on that?” Mirabelle asked as Amélie slid in the opposite side of her booth.
“I was,” Amélie replied, eyeing her closely, “until I saw you here without Trey.”
Mirabelle looked to the hunting ground. “He’s got a business meeting tonight.”
“He’s got a meeting and you’re here because…?” Amélie prompted.
Mirabelle looked back to Amélie, and clearly done with holding it in, she let fly.
“He’s not giving me any signs. He’s not giving me any openings. He’s certainly not asking me out. He’s not giving me anything. Except it’s clear he wants me to play with him, make him come hard, then he’s good to go away.”
Amélie harked back to Trey’s silent response to Mirabelle’s words about Bryan, obviously misinterpreting them as his Mistress having interest in the other sub, and not liking it.
It was unusual for Mirabelle not to be exceptionally attuned to her subs. She might miss something if she wasn’t looking, but if the reaction Amélie saw indicated how Trey felt, he would be giving other things away.
Perhaps with her heart getting involved, she was missing things.
Or perhaps Amélie had misread his reaction.
“So I’m just checking things out,” Mira went on. “There are some fresh, sweet babies out there that Aryas has approved. Trey has been all I’ve done for weeks. Maybe I need a new experience to clear my head.”
“So now it’s not once bitten, twice shy. It’s once bitten, two thousand times shy.”