By: Tara Crescent

“I might not need a Dominant,” I whispered in reply. “But I want one.”

“In this room,” he said darkly, “you’ll have to trust that I’ll give you what you want. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” I desperately hoped that this crazy, unearned trust that I was giving him wouldn’t backfire in my face. “Yes Sir.”


I didn’t see much of Alexander over the next day. After showing me the playroom, he’d disappeared into his study. He’d given me free rein over the house, but warned me that I wasn’t to enter his study without permission.

So many secrets. I wondered what Alexander concealed in his study. The accounts of the slave trade all over the world? Would there be the details of Dylan’s next victim? Would there be information that would help us take down Sylvia, if we even could? Our mission had stayed narrow so far. Both Lucien and I were driven by our demons. We’d cared about Dylan and only Dylan. But it was hard to ignore the rest of it when it was so within reach of me.

I pushed those thoughts away. I was Alexander’s submissive. I was an American who had never left home. I would be expected to see the sights of Paris, and so I did. I rode the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I browsed the antique stores in the Left Bank. I walked the cobbled streets of Montmartre, Alexander’s credit card in my purse. “Use it,” he’d instructed me. When hell freezes over, I wanted to reply, but I didn’t. Apart from my natural desire to be independent, I was too keenly aware of where his wealth came from. His fortune was built on the backs of the misery of others. Just because he was one-step removed from the actual abduction and buying of human beings didn’t make the truth of who he was any better.

But as much as I should have been repulsed by him, I wasn’t. When he emerged from his study to seek me out for meals and conversation, I sparkled under his attention. When we shared stories of our favourite books, curled up in the comfortable chairs in the library, I cuddled up to him and indulged shamelessly in my fantasy that this was a man I could get involved with. When he teased me for the innumerable cups of coffee I drank, I blushed in response.

He was charming. He was kind. None of it was real. I knew that. I didn’t care. I was just busy counting off the seconds before I could be in his playroom.

Chapter 19

Ellie / Jenny:

“Ready for the rules?”

My heart was beating so loudly in my chest that I was convinced he could hear it. Hell, I was convinced Elodie could hear it, and she was three levels below us.

I couldn’t form words so I just nodded mutely. Alexander flashed me a grin. “You look nervous again, cherie. Relax. Have fun.”

“Yes Sir.” I knew one rule already and I abided by it. In a session, I called him Sir.

I was wearing a simple charcoal grey dress that ended a few inches above my knees. Not exactly a look that screamed sex siren, but it was made of cotton and was perfect for a day of walking around Paris in the muggy heat.

“Good. Remember, be honest about your desires. Tell me what you want and tell me what you don’t want. Okay?” He shot me a reassuring look. “This is our first time in the playroom and I’m not going to do anything too intense. Do you want to use red and yellow as your safe words?”

“Yes Sir.”

His lips thinned. I got the feeling he wanted me to talk to him but I was too busy holding it together and had no words to spare.

“Come here.”

I closed the space between us, standing in front of him with my eyes lowered. “No, no,” his sexy voice, with its undertone of a French accent, rebuked. His fingers tipped my chin up so that I looked at him. “I would like you to keep your eyes on me. I want to watch your reactions.”

He moved to my side. “I would enjoy hearing you moan. Don’t hold it back. Don’t hide from me.” His breath tickled at my ear. A sharp flare of lust combusted in my body as his big, strong hand gripped my forearm firmly and led me in front of the large X of the St. Andrews Cross.

“What do you think?” he asked me, his eyes intent. “Want to be tied up?”

He told me I had safewords. He promised he wasn’t going to punish me. He said this wasn’t going to be very intense. And in Paris, two years ago, I’d trusted him enough to go back with him to his house.

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