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The King

“What?” Lachlan asked, eyeing him.

“We’ll have male submissives, too,” Kingsley said, knowing most straight men wouldn’t be comfortable watching two men engage in kink. “Male submissives with male or female dominants. They’ll also need a watcher, a protector. That bother you?”

“I protect whoever needs protecting. I’m in this fucking city ten thousand miles from home because my sister married the world’s biggest wanker. I’m not leaving until I can take her back to Sydney with me.”

“Introduce her to me. I have a way of getting women to leave their husbands.”

The man shook his head and laughed. The laugh transformed his expression from one of stony suspicion into boyish amusement.

“I might call your secretary. I might not. I might hunt down that arse with the bullhorn and shove it down his throat.”

“Then this might induce you to come work for me,” Kingsley said. “That arse with the bullhorn? I’m buying a building from him to turn into my club. Whether he likes it or not. And I promise, he doesn’t.”

“Then I’ve only got one question for you.”

“Ask it,” Kingsley said.

“When do I start?”

Kingsley shook hands with Lachlan and found a pay phone.

“Do you have your clipboard?” Kingsley asked Sam when she answered.

“Aye, aye, Captain? Who do we have now?”

He filled her in.

“You found a bouncer at an abortion clinic?” Sam asked.

“He’s very cute.”

“Speaking of cute, you have a message.”

“What is it?”

“Mistress Felicia’s home. And you’ve been summoned.”

30

KINGSLEY LEFT THE city at one o’clock and arrived at Felicia’s shortly before two. She’d given him his own key, and he used it to enter through the patio door per her instructions.

Felicia had a perfect retreat from the city out here in Bedford—a classic New England cottage. He entered through the side door into her dining room, a small intimate setting with a table for two and a candelabrum in the center. The first night he’d stayed with her, he’d made love to her on this table, and she’d doused him with the candlewax after as a thank-you. But it appeared they weren’t to be dining today. He locked the door behind him. On the table he found a box with a white card on top. The card said two words—Wear me.

Inside the box, Kingsley found a black silk blindfold. Felicia was in a mood to play games today.

He tied the blindfold on and waited. He wasn’t going to take a step farther without instructions. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long for step two.

“It’s a good look for you.” Felicia’s elegantly accented voice came from the right where a doorway opened into the hallway. “You should wear a blindfold more often.”

“It makes it difficult to find my way to you.”

“You don’t need your eyes today. Only your ears. Turn toward the sound of my voice.”

Kingsley turned right.

“Good,” she said. “Now two steps forward.”

He took the two steps with surety, knowing her house as well as his own by now.

“What game are we playing?” he asked, knowing he was close to her because he could smell the heat of her body mingling with her perfume.

“The game where I blindfold you and make you do everything I tell you to do.”

“Good game,” he said. “What’s my first order?”

“Kiss,” she said. He felt her mouth on his mouth, and he kissed her with shameless hunger. Her mouth tasted sweet and warm, and he had to reach for her body. Before he could touch her, she pulled away. “I said ‘kiss.’ I didn’t say ‘touch.’”

“I changed my mind. Terrible game.”

“Glad you like it. Now...” Her voice grew fainter, and he could hear she’d moved away from him. “Hands and knees. Crawl to me.”

His pride rebelled at the order, but his erection gave into it immediately. He went down on his hands and knees and crawled toward the direction of Felicia’s voice. He reached her quickly.

“Mistress?” he asked.

“Kiss again.”

He started to stand but felt Felicia’s hand on his head. She stoked his hair, his cheek, his lips.

“Not my mouth.”

Kingsley paused long enough for her to know he was following her orders with the most extreme reluctance. He reached out with one hand until he felt her bare foot, her bare toes. He dropped a kiss on to the top of each of her feet.

“Ankles,” she said. Ankles he kissed.

“Calves,” she said. Calves he kissed.

Thighs. Hips. Stomach. Mistress Felicia was obviously naked, and he wasn’t complaining. Breasts. Nipples. Neck. He was so hard now it hurt. Left shoulder. Right shoulder. Left wrist. Right wrist. If she didn’t let him fuck her soon, he would not be held responsible for his actions.

“One more kiss for now,” she said, and he felt something against his lips. The back of her hand. He pressed a kiss into her skin, and her hand shivered in his. Nice to know she was as eager for him as he was for her. He needed this day with Felicia. He needed her desire for him. He needed her attraction to him that she did nothing to hide. He adored Sam to the point it made his stomach hurt when he held her in his arms, but those nights in his bed holding her while they slept but doing nothing more were hard on his pride. And right now his pride was unbearably hard.

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