But nothing changed. It was as if Quill had let his guard down with her for one beautiful moment and then pulled it right back up again. Almost immediately, he’d pushed her away, back into the gallery, isolated from him. As if she’d never spent a night in his bed. Or as if it didn’t matter that she had, or maybe he’d found her in some way lacking the same way he seemed to find everything she put on canvas lacking.
Anyone else who didn’t meet his expectations, he could have sent packing, but she knew too many things that could ruin him, she hadn’t signed an NDA, and well, what were the odds he trusted her not to report him for what was essentially kidnapping?
He’d at least started painting with her again, but that same distance permeated the work between them. The only sign of intimacy was the accumulating stack of finished paintings in her image. It was the only real connection between them, the only sign that he felt something deeper when he looked at her.
Beyond that, he’d grown even more distant than before. The only sex or kink they shared was in preparation for a new painting. He was willing to fuck her to capture her on canvas but not for the experience itself. What did that say about her? What the hell did it say about him?
It was even worse with her work. With his, at least there was a sign of life in the finished piece, but when she painted, Quill maintained his distance. He gave no sign of either pleasure or disappointment. And no longer did he give her any direction. No tirades. No pep talks. Just a gaping void of nothing, a space she couldn’t seem to fill with anything to regain his interest in her as an artist.
Quill glanced at her newest painting. A still life. BDSM furniture, but still she was regressing. She kept moving farther from the material instead of closer. She wondered if some part of her did this intentionally, to force his hand, to force any extreme reaction out of him. Anything that felt alive like his paintings. She was baiting him.
But he gave no sign that he cared one way or the other about her creation. Instead, he said, “Nolan will be here in an hour. You should probably get ready.”
Saskia flung her brush down, but still he didn’t react. “Do you really want me to fuck him?”
Why? For what possible reason could he want this? He’d seemed weirdly jealous of Marcus. How could passing her around more help anything? She was perfectly happy to just be his. To truly deeply be his. Why couldn’t she just be his? Why couldn’t he just let her in? She’d only agreed to sleep with Nolan because Quill seemed to want her to. She grasped onto anything he wanted like it would be the last raindrop before an endless drought.
Quill moved closer, the whisper of intensity peeking around the edges of his features. “Yes. I want you to fuck him. And I’m going to watch the whole thing on the cameras. I want you to give yourself to him in any way he demands. I want you to be my whore. It’s the only investment that’s paid off.”
She flinched, unsure which stung more, the words themselves or their icy delivery. Once again, she wanted to hate him. Saskia was sure if he were anyone else in the world, she’d hate him. But no matter how much easier it would be and how much she wished she could flip a switch and be done, Quill continued to loom large in her mind, and the hope of something real with him lingered on.
“He wants you to meet him out on the terrace. You can wear a swimsuit. Lacy left one in the bathroom for you. There will be drinks waiting by the pool.”
Quill turned to leave.
“Wait. Does he know who I am yet?”
“I haven’t told him.”
An hour later, Quill was nowhere to be found. In fact, everyone at the main house had made themselves scarce. A red bikini had been left in the bathroom and a matching sarong.
Nolan was in the pool, a piña colada in one hand, when Saskia arrived. She’d taken advantage of the sarong for as much cover as possible. Which was ludicrous. He’d seen everything in excruciating detail already.
It seemed almost comical for someone with such strong male features to be holding a yellow girlie drink with a pink straw. And yet there he was. He’d already downed one and was working on his second.
“Saskia,” he said, his eyes widening in surprise.
She couldn’t believe he’d actually remembered her name. When she’d met him at the fund raiser, she’d been sure that if she were to meet him again the very next day he would have scrambled to remember it and likely wouldn’t have even gotten the first letter right.
“Nolan,” she said in reply.
“Great, we both remember each other’s names. We’re off to a fabulous start. Join me.”
Nolan wasn’t wearing swim trunks. They floated forlornly in the deep end of the pool like a tragic accident. His erection was visible even from above the surface of the water. He made no comment on the bikini or the fact that she was getting into the pool with him still wearing it.
He handed her a piña colada when she reached him.
Saskia took a sip. “Wow. That’s strong.”
“It’s a lot of rum, very little mix. I imagine that was for your benefit.”
As if drunk drowning in a pool could ever be to her benefit.
“So, how’s the honest reproduction business?” he asked. “Or are you done with that now that you’ve landed a sugar daddy?”
Saskia cringed. He’d seemed genuinely interested in what she did the night of the party, or was he only interested in getting her out of her gown? She gestured to the upper corner of the building at the security camera over the pool. “You know he’s watching this, right?”
“Our host is a bit of a freak,” Nolan said, already forgetting the topic of reproductions. “But then, you knew that already. How did he ever convince you to get in the box at the party? Or are you a bit of a freak yourself?” He winked.
She felt the heat come into her face and took another long sip from her drink. An alcohol buzz rippled over her face, slipping down over her shoulders, wrapping her in a warm hug of slight inebriation.
Nolan’s fingers slid beneath her bikini bottoms, pushing slowly inside her. She let out a gasp, not prepared for things to move so quickly, despite knowing the reason she was there.
“I’ve dreamed about what it might feel like to touch the inside of this pussy with my fingers instead of a glass toy since that night.”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eyes, but Nolan didn’t seem to notice. He was too wrapped up in fulfilling the fantasy he’d paid good money for.
“I say we move this party to the hot tub,” he said. “Even under our host’s watchful eye, I feel safer in shallower water. And I’m sure you’ll find you’re wearing too much in the heat.”
He helped her out of the pool and the few yards over to the bubbling hot tub. If anything, the camera here gave an even better shot of things.
The door to the main house opened and closed with some force. Saskia and Nolan looked up to find Quill striding toward the terrace like he was on a mission. When he reached them, he pulled up a patio chair and sat beside the hot tub.
“Something wrong?” Nolan asked. He was already submerged under the hot bubbling water. He pulled Saskia onto his lap, spreading her legs so Quill could watch his fingers crawl under the fabric again. The water was lit from below, spotlighting Nolan’s every movement.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Quill said. “Saskia, come here.”
She waded over to him. He helped her out and took her out of Nolan’s range of hearing.
“You don’t want to fuck him, do you?”
Saskia shrugged. “I just don’t understand why you want it.”
Quill stroked the side of her face and then wrapped a nearby towel around her to stop her shivering. “I enjoy watching you get fucked by other men. I enjoy them paying me for the privilege. It’s just one of my many kinks. You’ve had a taste of my kink, Saskia. Why should this surprise you? All these cameras? You know I like to watch.”
More than he liked to do?
“But, you were weird about Marcus.”
“Marcus lives with us. Marcus belongs to me. As you do. Marcus was reaching beyond his position to play in ways I didn’t authorize. He wanted that whipping. Trust me.”
Saskia wondered if Marcus had gotten the memo that he still belonged to Quill. Everyone at this house must know it now except for Marcus.
Quill continued. “I want you to submit to Nolan. Spread your legs for him. Let him lick and touch and fuck you in any hole he desires. I’m going to stay out here and watch. I want a front row seat for a live show. Can you handle that, Miss Roth?”
She nodded. “Y-yes, Master.”
It was the most intensity he’d shown her in days, and she found herself drawn into it like a vampire’s compulsion.
He pressed an intercom button on the outer wall and ordered a drink, then he escorted Saskia back to the hot tub where Nolan waited.
She got into the water and waded back over to him. She glanced back at Quill as Nolan pulled her back into his arms. Would he have stopped things? He’d come storming out of the house almost as if he’d meant to rescue her, but such a thing seemed impossible after the words that had come out of his mouth when they were alone. Still, he’d asked what she wanted, and he’d seemed willing to deliver whatever it might be.
“Everything all right?” Nolan asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Quill said. “Saskia, were you aware that Nolan plays the cello? I believe you heard some of his music when you were with Phillip.”
Nolan raised a brow. “Phillip, huh? How was that? Did he do the opera glove thing?”
The question was aimed at Saskia, but Quill answered instead. “Of course he did the opera glove thing. I’ve thought of sending him a case full of opera gloves for Christmas. Sometimes I think he might be more attracted to them than the women wearing them. A store mannequin might please him just as much. So long as she wore the gloves.”
Lacy appeared out of nowhere like a phantom and pressed a glass of scotch into Quill’s hand. Then she retreated back into the main house as quietly as she’d come out.
Quill took a sip of his drink. His eyes were dark, focused, and intense as he watched the two of them in the water as if they were animals expected to breed in captivity. Nolan seemed to have no real problem with this, and it struck Saskia that he’d probably done this sort of thing with a girl of Quill’s before—one of the ones “on probation” that had never reached any full status with him. There was a certain choreography to the night.
Saskia touched the edge of her collar as if making sure it was still fastened in place. She was only the second woman he’d put a collar on. At least he’d committed to having her in his life, unlike the ones on probation, but if he wouldn’t really let her in, what difference did it make?
“So,” Quill said. “I’ve seen you play the cello. Now I want to watch you play Saskia.”
Nolan laughed. “You’ve waited a while to use that line haven’t you?”
“Maybe. I wasn’t aware of your musical talents the last time we did this.”
Nolan shook his head but obliged. He pulled Saskia back against him, stroking her throat as if she were his instrument.
“What kind of sounds do you think I can get out of her?” he asked.
“You’re the expert,” Quill said. “You tell me.”
Nolan stroked every inch of her, while Quill sat there, drinking in both the scotch and the scene before him. Nolan’s fingers played across her collar bone, down her arms, lingering for several minutes on her breasts. He removed her bikini top and pinched and twisted her nipples until she writhed on his lap and moaned. With one quick flourish, he ripped the bikini bottoms off her and let them float on the surface of the water.
“That was Lacy’s swimsuit you just ruined,” Quill commented.
“I’ll buy her another one.” He gripped Saskia’s waist, raised her up, and then pushed her down hard on his cock. She let out something between a whimper and a gasp as she fought to regain her breath.
“Good girl, just ride me,” he said, stroking her back as she raised and lowered herself over him.
When she looked up, Quill was riveted. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him quite like that, and once again the hope renewed in her that he’d somehow open up and let her in, that he wouldn’t forever hold her at this distance.
It only took Nolan a few minutes to come with the way she grinded on him. He held her firmly in place as he emptied inside her. Quill rose to his feet, kicked off his shoes, and unbuttoned and dropped his pants on the terrace. He unbuttoned his shirt and laid it across the chair, then he sat on the edge, with his legs in the water.
“Come here, Saskia,” he said again.
She waded over to him and found herself standing directly in front of one of the jets. If she moved just a few inches, the water would pulse against her clit. From the look in his eyes, Quill knew this. He nodded at her, and she moved those few inches, then he scooted closer.
Her mound pressed against the pulsating jets. Her mouth was mere inches from his erect cock. She didn’t have to ask what he wanted her to do next. Saskia ground against the jets while she licked and sucked him. Nolan came up behind her, kissing and biting the side of her neck. His pressed a finger against her ass and she jumped in surprise at the contact.
He chuckled from behind her.
Saskia clenched around his finger as she came from the jets, having nearly forgotten about the cock in her mouth.
“Miss Roth? Don’t disappoint me.”
Such a statement from Quill carried with it the promise of the most dire consequences. She turned her attention back to her master’s cock and didn’t disappoint him.
And yet, she slept in the gallery.
“Get dressed, we’re going out,” Quill said as he breezed into the gallery dressed in all black. Marcus had left her hours ago to go back to the main house to sleep, but Quill hadn’t been in yet.
Saskia searched his face for any sign of weirdness from the previous night with Nolan. Quill’s friend had fucked her a few more times before he’d retired to the study with Quill for some brandy and cigars, leaving her sore and wrung out from the demands of the two men. She’d wondered if they’d compare notes. Marcus had come out to the pool for her and taken her back to the gallery. Then he’d had his turn with her, albeit a tamer version, given Quill’s parameters and rules.
“Where are we going?” Saskia asked.
“Out.”
She didn’t know why she bothered asking. His answer was always the same.
“Where’s that thing you wore to the club that first time?” Quill asked.
“It’s in the house.” In the room that had become her storage locker because she’d long given up hope that it could ever be her actual room. Even if she never made it into Quill’s bed in a permanent way, she’d held out hope for a time that at least she might earn her way into sharing space with her own things. But no.
“So we’re going to the club?” she asked.
Quill sent her a withering look. “Just put it on. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, Master.”
Lacy had brought her a plate earlier when Quill hadn’t summoned her to the dining room for dinner.
“Good. Be ready to go in twenty minutes.”
The main house felt strangely foreign when she stepped inside it—like it had forgotten her already. But she shook the feeling off and went to the room with her things and put on the outfit he wanted.
She heard a low whistle behind her and spun to find Marcus standing in the doorway slouched casually against the frame. He looked as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. His hair was wet and he wore only jeans. The dragon twisting around his torso seemed to be craning to get a look at what had caused Marcus to whistle.
“Are you coming with us?” Saskia asked.
“Coming with you where?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The club maybe. He won’t say.” She wondered now if Quill hadn’t come to her because he’d been with Marcus.
“Then it’s probably the club. He acts as if acknowledging its existence aloud will break some sacred trust. But no, I’m not going. I’ve been given the night off.”
Saskia let out a long slow breath. If Marcus was being given the night off, it either meant she’d sleep in Quill’s bed tonight or whoever he was leasing her to wanted overnight privileges.
She met Quill out by the Bentley twenty minutes later. He glanced at his watch but made no comment. He simply opened her door for her and then got in on the driver’s side.
They traveled in silence out of the city and into the desert as before. Saskia felt no less self-conscious in the short skirt and boots than she had the last time she’d worn them.
When they reached the gate of Mr. Fizzy Pop Bottling Company, Quill input his code, and the doors swung open again. He parked in the same handicapped spot as before, as if it were his special reserved parking. Without a word, he got out and came around to Saskia’s side.
She started to open her mouth to speak, but Quill pressed a finger against her lips and shook his head. He took a black silk tie from his pocket and blindfolded her. Then he pulled the black cami top off over her head.
“No bra. Good girl,” he said. Quill slipped a hand under her skirt between her legs to find that she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Very good girl.”
He’d wanted her dressed the same as the first visit, and she wasn’t about to irritate him with feigned ignorance about underwear.
Saskia felt her nipples harden in the cool night air.
“Turn around.”
She turned, and a moment later, a piece of tight leather with stiff vertical pieces was being wrapped around her. A corset. There were no hooks, no easy fastenings or buttons or zippers for those who just wanted the “look” without the fuss and muss. No, this was a real lace-up corset.
She drew in a sharp breath as Quill cinched her up like he knew exactly what he was doing. And it struck her as kind of odd that he’d never done this before. He’d painted a few other women in corsets, but he’d always painted Saskia nude.
The corset stopped just under her breasts, leaving them pushed impossibly high and exposed for the viewing pleasure of anybody inside the warehouse. Next, she leather cuffs were placed on her wrists. A metal chain clinked as it was attached to a connecting ring between the cuffs.
Quill tugged on the leash. She tottered in the heeled boots briefly, then got her bearings and followed him. He led her into the building, through the loud, grinding industrial beat, through the secondary doors where the beat faded into a hum, then he held her hands and helped her down the treacherous spiraling stairs to the underground level. Even through the pulsing beat, she heard the staccato rhythm of her heels clicking against the hard floor until Quill halted her with a hand pressed lightly to her stomach.
She waited.
He unlocked one of the cuffs, repositioned her arms behind her back, and recuffed her.
There was a grinding sound as something creaking and metal settled against the ground. When a metal door swung open, Quill helped her inside.
“Kneel and spread your legs.”
She obeyed, and the door shut. She felt herself rise in the air as the creaking metal—which she realized was one of the bird cages—rose a few feet in the air.
The volume of the music seemed more muted now as a small crowd gathered around the cage. A din of speech surrounded her—deep male voices—but she couldn’t pick out a single strand of conversation. Different men’s words bumped up against each other as they seemed to circle and prowl around her cage like a pack of wolves.
Hands stroked her spread thighs, pushing between her legs, massaging and caressing her breasts, stroking the side of her face.
“Give yourself over to it,” Quill whispered from just behind her, his voice the only one she could piece together with clarity.
A hand slid into hers, and she knew it was her master’s.
Saskia began to move her hips, grinding against the strange hands. Multiple hands stroked her thighs now, as two—possibly from two different men—rubbed between her legs. From behind, hands moved on her ass, one teasing her rear entrance. The hands on her breasts became more insistent and demanding. And one hand demanded she suck its fingers into her mouth. She obliged with a whimper as she writhed against the strangers.
“Come for us”, the voices whispered. For one crazy moment, Saskia thought she’d wake up in her own cage in the gallery with her own fingers between her legs, but she didn’t wake up. Instead, she let the hands and voices pull her under their wave of pleasure as she came moaning for them.
One by one, the hands pulled away, and she was left kneeling in the bird cage with the evidence of the events of moments before sliding quietly down her legs.
Several minutes of silence passed. Then there was the talking again. The muffled male voices overlapping, lowering discreetly when they didn’t want her to hear. Saskia felt her whole body blush inside the cage.
She picked up bits and pieces and little phrases here and there, enough to piece together a narrative inside her head. It was a financial negotiation of some sort. What had just happened inside the cage had been... an audition of sorts? A try out for the men who were now talking about money.
Saskia’s anxiety ratcheted higher. She couldn’t pick out Quill’s voice. His hand was no longer in hers. What the hell was happening?
The cage lowered back to the ground, the door opened, she was helped out, and her hands were uncuffed and recuffed once again in front of her. She was led out of the warehouse on the leash the same way she was led in, never once seeing anyone in the club, not even the bouncer outside.
When they reached the car, the passenger side door was opened for her, and she was buckled into her seat belt. The driver’s side door seemed louder closing than hers had been. The car started and backed smoothly out of the parking lot and onto the road.
She was still blindfolded and leashed and cuffed, but now inside the silence of the car, everything felt sharper and the odd fog she’d been in began to fall away. The seat she sat on felt different than she remembered, the leather softer against the backs of her thighs. The car handled differently. Sounded different. Smelled different. She reached blindly in front of her to feel the dash and glove box—very different contours than the Bentley. Her breath sped perilously down the ramp to hyperventilation, but a voice stopped her.
“Relax, Saskia. I’m here,” Quill said from the back seat. But who was driving?
She didn’t care. As long as he was there. He hadn’t abandoned her to a stranger going to God only knew where in the dark of night. For a crazy moment she’d thought he’d sold her off to someone else. Forever.
The trip was much shorter than the time it took to drive from the warehouse to Quill’s house. Saskia didn’t ask to remove the blindfold, nor did she attempt to take it off herself. As long as Quill was there, she could handle whatever this was.
The car stopped, and again the doors opened. This time, she realized the magnification of the sound of the door shutting had been the back seat and the driver’s side closing in concert. Her door was opened next, and she was helped out, led on the leash as she’d been before. She wasn’t sure if it was Quill or the stranger leading her.
Water burbled in a fountain a little way from the car. Suddenly she was scooped up and someone started to carry her.
“Is that really necessary?” Quill asked.
“These cobblestones are too easy to trip over in her boots.”
Saskia recognized that voice. The Viking. Ari. She relaxed a fraction.
He climbed a set of stairs with her, and then set her down just inside the front door. Her heels clicked against a hard, echoing floor. Then Ari led her through the house on the leash. She heard Quill’s footsteps just behind them.
Another door opened, and Saskia was guided through it. She heard flowing water and the crackling, spitting sound of fire in a grate. Ari unhooked the leash and removed the cuffs from her wrists. He raised each wrist and gently rubbed the irritated skin.
“You can take the blindfold off,” he said.
Saskia removed Quill’s silk tie from around her eyes and handed it back to her master. The room was large and solid white with vaulted ceilings that made her feel as if she were in a cathedral. There was a waterfall at one end of the room that emptied into a giant hot tub. The jets were unbelievably silent, giving the illusion that all the bubbling came from nothing more than the waterfall.
Several feet up—where the flow of water started—was a nook one might curl up in to read a book. She couldn’t see any detail in the space itself. She only knew that a person could fit in there and sit and look out over the rest of the room.
“That’s where my pet sleeps,” Ari said. Saskia knew he didn’t mean a dog or a cat. He meant the girl she’d met the first time in the club who’d been wearing the school girl uniform. On closer inspection, Saskia could see light glimmer off the link of a metal chain. She imagined there was a cuff on the end that might be locked around the girl’s ankle at night.
“Where is she?” Saskia asked.
“She’s spending the night in one of the guest rooms.”
Not a cage isolated in a gallery?
The fireplace against the wall crackled and spit some more, and Ari put another log on the fire.
There was a large white bed opposite from the hot tub with an endless pile of pillows on top of it. Metal chains hung from the ceiling, ending in white leather cuffs at various points over the bed. The bed itself was a four poster, the posts made of a sturdy gleaming steel.
There seemed to be endless ways to tie someone to Ari’s bed.
The floor was a blond hardwood, but it was nearly covered in white fur rugs so only a few inches of floor peeked from under them at a time. Small white pillows were clustered in a haphazard pile around the fireplace.
“Undress, please,” Ari said. “Boots, too.” His words were directed to Saskia, but Quill removed his shoes as well to avoid tracking anything onto all of Ari’s fine rugs. Ari also removed his shoes, but Saskia was the only one among them who was to be nude.
She wondered if Ari’s hands had been on her at the club when she’d been locked inside the birdcage, or if he’d stayed back and watched. She didn’t ask because she doubted either of them would tell her.
Quill looked back and forth between Saskia and Ari as if searching for some clue in a great mystery. He seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for.
“Saskia?”
“Yes, Master?”
“I’m going down the hall to play with Ari’s pet. You will stay here and do whatever he asks of you.” He didn’t frame it as a question, but something in the cadence of the sentences made it play that way despite his best effort.
“You aren’t staying to watch?” She felt her skin heat when she caught the smirk on Ari’s face at that.
“Not this time,” Quill said. “You’re in good hands.” His gaze shifted to The Viking. “I’m sure we won’t have a misunderstanding like last time?”
Ari shook his head. “No, Kane. We’re good. Besides, where would I take her? We’re already at my house.”
“Exactly.”
Quill shut the door softly behind him. He left his shoes behind in Ari’s room.
The Viking moved closer and began to unbutton his shirt. He tossed it onto a chair near the door. He left the pants on for now, but hooked his thumbs into the front pockets as if it were the only way he could control some wild thing inside him that wanted to devour Saskia whole.
He was so tall. Quill was tall. The two men were close to the same height, in fact, but Ari’s long blond hair really did make him look like a warrior off an ancient battlefield. As if to put a finer point on it, a faded angry scar slashed across his chest.
Saskia reached out—unable to help herself—and traced the scar. She drew back immediately as if burnt, remembering Quill’s sharp rebuke when she’d touched him without permission.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“It’s quite all right,” Ari said. His smile was easy. There weren’t a million cunning calculations going on behind those eyes. Not like with Quill. It seemed that every man she was with was somehow an easier or better option than Quill, yet in spite of all sound reason, Quill was the one she wanted to be close to, and she felt that every man’s bed he sent her to warm was just another way to keep her out of his heart so she could be kept at an emotional distance.
Saskia’s attention went back to the scar on Ari’s chest. “How did it happen?”
He chuckled. “I got that little souvenir when I didn’t listen to a safe word during edge play. As soon as I untied her, well... this is what happened. She had a few issues and was off her meds, but I still deserved it. And I knew she was off her meds, so shame on me for that, too. I took advantage from start to finish.”
“Oh. It wasn’t your pet?” It could very well be his pet, but the way he spoke made it seem more casual.
“No, just someone I was playing with for a night. Don’t worry. I learned my lesson. And I have a harsh reminder every time I look at it. It won’t happen again. It’s one of the reasons I was so concerned that you were truly there at the club of your own free will. I didn’t mean to try to take you away from somewhere you wanted to be or from someone you wanted to be with. I never should have doubted Kane.”
Oh, no, those instincts were good. But aloud she only said, “It’s okay.”
Ari moved closer. One hand cupped the back of her neck drawing her forward. He kissed her forehead. “You say Red, if you need it. Just like at the club.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Are you hungry?”
She looked uncertain.
He laughed. “Food. I’m asking about food, doll.”
“A little,” Saskia admitted. Dinner felt far in the distant past.
“I’ll be right back.”
Several minutes later, Ari returned with a large glass tray. He laid it on one of the rugs in front of the fireplace.
“Come, we’re going to play a game.”
There was a pitcher of water and two water glasses. In the center of the tray was an assortment of catered finger foods. There were mini-quiches, chicken salad tarts with grapes, something that looked like cream cheese mixed with something on crackers, butter mints, and fancy chocolates. Each portion on the glass was maybe a full bite or two at most.
“I had a party the other night. These are the leftovers. Unfortunately, some of the better stuff ran out first. Like the shrimp, and my pet polished off the last of the salmon puffs this afternoon.”
Saskia glanced toward the door, suddenly wondering what Quill was doing with Ari’s pet. A twinge of jealousy shot through her.
Ari’s hand pressed against her cheek, directing her attention back to him. “You must pay attention, or I’ll have to punish you. I’ll be gentle tonight if you’ll let me.”
Ari’s arctic blue eyes seemed to freeze as if mere verbal warning weren’t enough.
“Y-yes, sir.”
He nodded, the glaciers melting back into a warmer shade. “All right. How hungry are you?”
Now that she thought of it, and now that the wonderful smells were drifting toward her nose... pretty hungry. The Viking only had to see the look in her eyes for his answer.
He smiled. “Good. This game is better if you’re very hungry.”
Saskia swallowed around a lump forming in her throat. Quill wouldn’t have left her alone with him if he wasn’t sure, would he? It was just occurring to her that there had been a comfort in knowing Quill was on the other side of a screen watching, that he’d intervene if anything happened that he didn’t like. Or when Marcus had been just outside the door waiting to pounce if anyone crossed any lines. They’d both guarded her in their own ways.
But it was just her and Ari tonight.
“Don’t look so terrified. I won’t be too horrible with you. The game is simple. I issue an order. You do exactly as I say, and then I let you have a bit of food.”
Saskia nodded, looking from the tray to Ari.
He poured water in each of the glasses and took a sip from his, then he leaned back against the pillows. “Whenever I issue a command, you will say, ’It would be my honor, sir’, and then do whatever it is I’ve ordered. Sound simple enough?”
“Yes, sir.”
“First, I want you to crawl around the room so I can get a good look at you from every angle.”
Saskia dropped to her knees. “It would be my honor, sir.” She crawled slowly around the circumference of the room, avoiding the furniture and the hard marble around the hot tub.
When she returned to Ari, he motioned her closer and fed her one of the chicken salad tarts—or half of one, anyway. It was all she could get in one bite.
He pulled the rest of the tart away. “Don’t be greedy. If you please me, you won’t have to worry about starving in my care.”
Ari watched her kneeling on the rug waiting for his next command for several moments, then he said, “Go stand under the waterfall and wash yourself for me. I like my toys freshly cleaned before I use them.”
“It would be my honor, sir.” Saskia rose and climbed the marble steps, then descended into the hot bubbling water. A bar of peppermint soap rested on a ledge just to the right of the waterfall. The entire suite made her think of winter, from Ari’s long blond hair, to the fireplace, to all the white fur rugs, and now the soap that made the air feel colder when she breathed in its scent.
She bathed under the flowing water, its warmth hiding how her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. Saskia found herself captivated in Ari’s warm gaze. She didn’t know how eyes so pale blue could sometimes be so warm. Why couldn’t Quill look at her with just a fraction of that?
How pathetic. Her master was pimping her out to all these other men and rather than be horrified by it, instead of hating him, all she could do was wonder why he couldn’t touch her with Phillip’s care or caress her with the warmth of Ari’s gaze. Or why he couldn’t watch over her and stay close like Marcus. He seemed to have Nolan’s single-minded fixation with little else attached to it. And yet Nolan had made her the most uncomfortable—the one who’d seemed most like Quill. Shouldn’t that tell her something?
“Saskia?” Ari’s voice dropped deeper. A reprimand.
She looked up, startled. “Yes, sir?”
“Where did you go just now?”
“N-nowhere.”
He didn’t believe her. “Dry off and come back to me. I don’t want any water dripping on my furs.”
“Yes, sir.” Saskia took a towel off the rack next to the hot tub and carefully dried off. She left the towel wrapped around herself, even knowing that Ari probably preferred her to leave it behind. But he made no comment.
Instead, he pushed the tray toward her. “Eat whatever you want.”
Something had shifted in him, and the game was over before it had started. While she ate, Ari stripped off his pants and got into the water. He stood under the waterfall and used the peppermint soap. By the time she’d finished the food on the tray, Ari was next to her, a matching towel wrapped around his waist.
He offered her a helping hand up from the ground and led her over to the bed. He lay down and motioned for her to join him. They both wore their towels.
“What was that back there with you in the water? Seriously, where did you go? What’s wrong?”
Saskia shook her head. She couldn’t tell him. She was sure he’d only go behind her back and tell Quill, and then the two men would have a good laugh about it. No, Ari wasn’t like that. And when she really thought about it, Quill wasn’t either. Her master was hard and demanding and intense, but he didn’t make jokes at the expense of others. At least he never had with her, and she’d never seen any indication that such a thing was part of his character makeup.
Tears began to fall down her cheeks before she could stop or hide them. Ari pulled her against him and petted her hair. “You can talk to me. Whatever you say is just between us.”
Did he still think she was some unwilling captive? Was she? Was The Viking still trying to save her? There was nothing that could save her from her own self-destructive need to truly be Quill’s.
“What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t he love me? He’s so distant. It’s like he doesn’t even want me around.”
“Kane?”
That ridiculous name. If Ari didn’t know any of Quill’s multiple aliases, how could he understand any of this? But then, maybe Kane was just who Ari thought of him as, like Saskia thought of him as Quill. There was nothing to indicate how close Ari truly was to her master or how much he knew or didn’t know about him and all his myriad lives which lay parallel to one another, trying desperately not to cross-pollinate.
“Saskia, you are the second person he’s ever put a collar on. Trust me, it means something.”
But did it? If Ari only knew the truth of how she’d come to belong to Quill, it might not look the same. Whatever Quill had with the last girl he’d collared... surely it had been voluntary and mutual. Saskia was certain that the unnamed mystery woman had held some true place in his heart, that she wasn’t just some thing he possessed. She hadn’t been an impersonal acquisition... an asset. Not like Saskia.
Saskia couldn’t imagine him keeping that other woman locked away in the gallery away from him. If he had, how could he be surprised she’d left? If he was so empty inside that he couldn’t offer even the barest real connection... why did he care who stayed or went?
“Give him time,” Ari said. “Do you remember at the club when you screamed?”
She nodded.
“That look in his eyes when he confronted me about trying to take you out of there... I’ve only seen him that intense about one other person. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll walk out like she did.”
Saskia almost laughed out loud. As if Quill would ever allow that to happen. She’d lain inside her cage in the gallery at night when it was still and quiet, taking her master apart in her mind and putting him back together, making up all sorts of explanations for his behavior. She was sure he’d taken her and started their relationship with a felony just so she couldn’t walk out. He’d already set the tone and pace for them with that one criminal act. So what the hell could he be so afraid of now?
She’d swung almost immediately back to the idea that he didn’t care. He just wanted to punish her for tricking him out of all that money and wounding his ego.
“Can I ask you something?” Saskia said.
“Ask, doll.”
“What happened tonight at the club? I thought he was going to sell me to someone, maybe permanently.”
“It was an auction, you’re right. But just for the night. I was there to make sure it didn’t get out of hand because he would never sell you—even for a night—to someone he didn’t know well. I jumped in and outbid them to get you out of there without any bruised feelings.”
“But I thought this was your rain check from... from before.”
“It is. But the others in the club don’t know that.”
“You still haven’t really done anything with me,” she said, beginning to feel guilty that he kept getting screwed over, when she really did want to play with him.
Ari pulled her closer, his lips brushing softly against hers. “Just forget about all those buzzing worries for tonight.” He gently pulled her towel away followed by his own. And then he proceeded to make slow careful love to her, the kind of thing people who paid for sex didn’t offer. When you paid, you were there to take, but Ari just gave... all the things she’d wanted to come from Quill.
Afterward, he stroked her back until she fell asleep.
Saskia woke with her back pressed tight against a warm, solid chest. But Ari was in front of her, perhaps a foot away. At some point in the night, Quill had slipped into the bed. It wasn’t his bed, but it was a bed with him in it, his arms wrapped around her like she was something he didn’t want to let go of. She wondered if he’d pulled her to him immediately when he’d climbed into the giant bed, or if he’d instead unconsciously reached for her in his sleep.
Had Ari said something to him?
She remained very still the rest of the night, afraid that if she moved, the spell would break and Quill would release her and roll back over, shutting her out again.