Page 56 of The Beast Who Bought Me
I tuck him back into his trousers, button him back up, and smooth over that fancy fabric he justhadto have. It’s like nothing happened, except that he’s still hard.
And so am I.
The first act ends to thunderous applause, and as it dies away, I turn to him and straighten his bow tie. “There we go,” I tell him softly. “No one but me will know. Not unless I decide to let New York in on your dirty little secret: that youenjoybeing treated like this.”
He’s flushed, trembling, beautiful in his frustrated need. His eyes are glassy with want and humiliation. He’s…
Perfect.
The lights come up for intermission. Mrs. DuPont turns to us with bright eyes. “Wasn’t that absolutely marvelous?”
The Clemenza’s smile is flawless. No one would guess I just spent over an hour edging him. “Breathtaking,” he agrees. “I’ve never had an experience like it.”
I smother an unwilling snort of laughter.
“You wanna get a drink?” I ask once the DuPonts have left their box and the house is emptying below. “Or would you prefer I finish you off with the lights up? Let you spray your spunk all over the cheap seats below us?”
The look he gives me could melt steel. “Champagne sounds delightful. And isn’t that why we’re here? So you can show me off to your betters?”
He barely flinches when I slide a hand into his hair and tug hard, not caring who sees this time.
But he’s right, isn’t he? These people with their old money and inherited culture, their casual entitlement and generational power—theyarebetter than me, in every way that matters to this glittering world.
But they’re not better thanhim.
That’s his message.
I let his hair go and run my fingers through it, smoothing out the waves. “Sure,” I say. “Let’s go parade you around.”
“Wonderful.” He rises, adjusting the gold and diamond cufflinks I provided for him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had stimulating company.”
I follow him into the hallway outside the box, watch him greet some rich asshole I don’t know with a smile that lights up his whole face.
I pull him close and drop my voice as soon as we have a moment alone. “You’re showing off again, little prince. And you know what that means.”
I feel his shiver and smile to myself. But I hope he keeps pushing. Hope he keeps punching all my buttons, hard as he can.
Because when we get home tonight, I swear to God I will make him pay for every moment he tried to make me feel small.
CHAPTER 22
CALIGULA
I’m poking the bear.
I suspected it when Sal Rossi approached us and greeted me first, Damiano second. I confirmed it when he got annoyed at my talking to Ambassador DuPont’s wife, who gasped out my name with delight but didn’t even ask for his.
The Met’s chandeliers shine like captured stars above us, and the fabric of my brand-new tuxedo feels liquid against my skin. I haven’t felt like myself in years. But right now, surrounded by the glittering elite of New York, I feel…
Dangerous. Alive. Powerful.
And I am going to poke this bear until he roars.
Even if it means he’s going to spank me again. Even if it means I can’t sit comfortably for a week—and God knows the opera house seats aren’t exactly cushiony-soft against my still-smarting skin.
I’veneverbeen touched like that. And I shouldn’t have liked it. God, Ireallyshouldn’t have liked it. Still can’t believe how I responded.
Self-preservation. That’s what I told myself it was.
