Page 11 of Jace
Stacey and her husbands have no idea who we really are, and they probably don’t care. As long as Grant and I do our jobs, securing this lavish store, we’re good.
But being good doesn’t include breaking the sex furniture on display.
“We don’t put cameras in this room for a reason,” Stacey chides. “We ensure our client’s full privacy, and ours too. So we need someone to confess, please.”
All stares look away, combing over this sprawling third-floor bedroom, now designed for demonstrations.
My humming gaze studies the black walls and gleaming ceiling as if I’m seeing them for the first time.
Would you look at that? Billowing ivory curtains. A crystal chandelier. Antique wooden floors covered by white fur rugs.
It’s luxe meets lust in here, thrilling our exclusive customers with demonstrations on how to use the BDSM furniture we sell, as well as the sex toys available downstairs.
It used to be Stacey and her husbands giving the demonstrations. But her pregnancy put a stop to that.
Though last night, there was no stopping Vale. She passed our test with orgasmic flying colors. Soon, we’ll initiate her as a queen in our new throne room down the hall.
My brother Axel, our head King, is setting up the room.
To everyone else, Axel’s a Charleston lawyer, hiding behind his pseudonym, Michael Cummings. To the staff at Delta’s, he’s an inked Dom renting an opulent, private sex room on the third floor.
To me and my brother Grant, convened as possible suspects in this sexy crime, we’re looking forward to initiating another queen. It’s a sacred honor.
But to my quiet colleague, Vivian, standing by the red velvet sex chaise and wringing her graceful hands… this is awkward as fuck.
She’s not guilty.
I know it.
Vale and Grant do as well.
But all eyes fall on her since she’s our recent hire.
Stacey hired Vivian months ago. They met through Stacey’s friend, Luca Mercier, the CEO of The Mercier Hotels.
Vivian is Luca’s prized photographer for his five-star hotels. She’s also trusted to shoot hisveryprivate parties. Parties that Stacey and her husbands have attended.
Knowing Luca Mercier and the kinky BDSM gear I’ve watched him buy at Delta’s, it makes my cock twitch, imagining what Vivian has seen at his events.
But it’s not his taboo soirees that intrigue me; it’s Vivian. It’s how innocent she seems. All bright eyes and beaming smiles and sweet to everyone.
Stacey told the staff that Vivian was in the middle of a nasty divorce and needed some extra income. So Stacey let Vivian turn a second-floor bedroom at Delta’s into a boudoir studio.
In a month, Vivian was booked for the year.
I’ve been happy for her success because I hear the rumors. It’s my job.
Quietly sit. Secretly listen. Suspiciously watch. Immediately protect.
I’ve heard how Vivian’s husband is an amateur model and influencer, popular with the local surfing brands. He’s never met a mirror or a woman he didn’t want to fuck.
Word is he’s trying to take Vivian’s money. Money she inherited from her late father, a renowned philanthropist. But Vivian has frozen her father’s assets, protecting them from her greedy husband.
It’s left her with little money as well, though it’s obvious Vivian loves her work.
Still, she’s been her husband’s sugar mama while he’s been a punk-ass boy too precious to bake his own cookies.
Seems Vivian’s almost free of his freeloading ass. Her divorce is almost final.
